All are not such. I had a brother oncePeace to the mem'ry of a man of worth, A man of letters, and of manners too! Of manners sweet as Virtué always wears, When gay Good-nature dresses her in smiles. He grac❜d a college,* in which order yet Was sacred; and was honour'd, lov'd, and wept, By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. Some minds are temper'd happily, and mix'd With such ingredients of good sense, and taste Of what is excellent in man, they thirst With such a zeal to be what they approve, That no restraints can circumscribe them more Than they themselves by choice for wisdom's sake. Nor can example hurt them; what they see Of vice in others but enhancing more The charms of virtue in their just esteem. If such escape contagion, and emerge Pure from so foul a pool to shine abroad, And give the world their talents and themselves, Small thanks to those, whose negligence or sloth Expos'd their inexperience to the snare, And left them to an undirected choice.

See then the quiver broken and decay'd,
In which are kept our arrows! Rusting there
In wild disorder, and unfit for use,

What wonder, if discharg'd into the world,
They shame their shooters with a random flight,
Their points obtuse, and feathers drunk with wine.
Well may the church wage unsuccessful war
With such artill'ry arm'd. Vice parries wide

Bene't Coll. Cambridge.

The' undreaded volley with a sword of straw,
And stands an impudent and fearless mark.

Have we not track'd the felon home, and found His birthplace and his dam? The country mourns, Mourns because ev'ry plague, that can infest Society, and that saps and worms the base Of the' edifice, that Policy has rais'd, Swarms in all quarters: meets the eye, the ear, And suffocates the breath at ev'ry turn. Profusion breeds them; and the cause itself Of that calamitous mischief has been found: Found too where most offensive, in the skirts Of the rob❜d pedagogue! Else let the' arraign'd Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge. So when the Jewish leader stretch'd his arm, And wav'd his rod divine, a race obscene, Spawn'd in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth, Polluting Egypt: gardens, fields, and plains, Were cover'd with the pest; the streets were fill'd; The croaking nuisance lurk'd in every nook; Nor palaces, nor even chambers, 'scap'd; And the land stunk-so num'rous was the fry.

THE TASK.

BOOK III.

Ji 2

ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK.

Self-recollection and reproof--Address to domestic happiness.Some account of myself -The vanity of many of their pursuits, who are reputed wise.-Justification of my censures.Divine illumination necessary to the most expert philosopher.— The queston, What is truth? answered by other questions.Domestic happiness addressed again -Few lovers of the country. My tame hare.-Occupations of a retired gentleman in his garden-Pruning -Framing.-Greenhouse.-Sowing of flower seeds.-The country preferable to the town even in the winter.-Reasons why it is deserted at that season.-Ruinous effects of garning, and of expensive improvement.-Book concludes with an apostrophe to the metropolis.

THE TASK.

BOOK III.

THE GARDEN.

As one, who long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil'd
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging and half despairing of escape;

If chance at length he find a greensward smooth.
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,

He cherups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease;
So I, designing other themes, and call'd

To' adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe'er deserv'd),
Long held, and scarcely disengag'd at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large,
Courageous, and refresh'd for future toil,
If toil await me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect Most part an empty ineffectual sound,

What chance that I, to fame so little known,