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And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides,
Come! and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe;
And, in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty-
And, if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy Crew,
To live with her and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free:
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And, singing, startle the dull Night,
From his watchtower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come in spite of sorrow
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweetbriar or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine;
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn door
Stoutly struts his dames before;
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn,
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn,
From the side of some hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Sometime walking, not unseen,
By hedge row elms, or hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries digbt,
While the plouglunan near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the mower whets his scythe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasuresin
Whilst the landskip round it measures ;
Russet lawns and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The lab'ring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim, with dasies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements it sees,
Bosom'd high in lufted trees,
Where, pherhaps, some beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by a cottage chinbey smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,
Are at their savoury dinner set,
Of herbs and other country messes,
Which the neathanded Phillis dresses;
And then in haste, her bower she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;
Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the taon'd haycock in the mead.
Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men,
Where throngs of knights and barons bold,
In weeds of peace high triumph hold;
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commendi
There let Hymen oft appear,
In saffron robe, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask, and antique pageantry;
Such sights as youthful poets dream,
On summer eves, by haunted stream.
Then to the well trod stage anon,
If Johnson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood Totes wild.
And ever, against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting soul may pierce,
In notes with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running ;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of Harmony :
That Orpheus' self may heave his head
From golden slumber, on a bed
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains, as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free,
His half regain'd Eurydice.
These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
III. - On the Pursuits of Mankind.-Pope.
HONOUR and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part-there all the honour lies.
Fortune in men has some small difference made;
One flaunts in rags--one flutters in brocade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd;
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
"What differ more," you cry, “than crown and cow??"
friend a wise man and a fool.
You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
Or, cobler like, the parson will be drunk ;
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunella,
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race,
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece:
But by your father's worth if yours you rate,
Count me those only who were good and great.
Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood
Has crept through scoundrels ever sense the flood :
Go! and pretend your family is young,
Nor own your fathers have been fool so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
Look next on greatness-say where greatness lies.
Or make an enemy of all mankind !
Not one looks backward; onward still he goes;
Yet ne'er looks forward, farther that his nose.
No less alike the politic and wise;
All fly slow things with circumspective eyes.
Men in their loose, unguarded hours they take,
Not that themselves are wise, but others weak.
But grant that those can conquer; these can eheat;
'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great.
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave,
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains ;
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates that man is great indeed.
What's fame? a fanci'd life in others' breath,
A thing beyond us, e’en before our death.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert,
Plays round the head but comes not to the heart;
One self approving hour whole years outweighs
of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas:
And more true joy, Marcellus exil'd, feels,
Than Cesar, with a Senale at his heels.
In parts superiour what advantage lies?
Tell, (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'Tis but to know how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own;
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
Without a second, or without a judge.
Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land;
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
Painful preeminence! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
Bring then these blessings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions, see to what they 'mount:
How inuch, of other, each is sure to cost;
How each, for other, oft is wholly lost;
How inconsistent greater goods with these ;
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease;
Think. And if still such things thy envy call,
Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall ?
To sigh for ribands, if thou art so zilly,
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wise.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd;
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame.
If all, united, thy ambition call,
From ancient story, learn to scorn them all.
IV.-Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn.--MILTON.
THESE are thy glorious works! Parent of good! Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wond'rous fair : Thyself how wond'rous, then, Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne, rejoicing. Ye in heaven! On earth, join, all ye creatures, to extol Him first, him last, him inidst, and without end. Fairest of stars ! last in train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With the bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou Sun! of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and wlien thou fall'st. Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st, With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies; And ye five other wand'ring fires ! that move In mystic dance, not without song ; resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye elements ! the eldest birth Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, inultiform, and mix And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change