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Heart-foft'ning plaints demand the pitying tear,
And peals of hideous laughter shock the ear.
Within this lonely lodge, in folemn port,
A fhiv'ring monarch keeps his awful court,
And far and wide, as boundless thought can stray,
Extends a vast imaginary fway.
Utopian princes bow before his throne,
Lands unexisting his dominion own,
And airy realms, and regions in the moon.
The pride of dignity, the pomp of state,
The dazzling glories of the envy'd great,
Rise to his view, and in his fancy swell,
And guards and courtiers crowd his empty cell.
See how he walks majestic through the throng!
(Behind he trails his tatter'd robes along)
And cheaply bleft, and innocently vain,
Enjoys the dear delusion of his brain
In this small spot expatiates unconfin'd,
Supreme of monarchs, first of human kind.
Lo! here a wretch to avarice refign'd,
'Midst gather'd scraps, and shreds, and rags confin’d;
His riches these for these he rakes and spares,
These rack his bofom, these engrofs his cares ;
O'er these he broods, for ever void of rest,
And hugs the sneaking passion of his breaft.
See! from himself the fordid niggard steals,
Referves large scantlings from his flender meals;
Scarce to his bowels half their due affords,
And starves his carcase to increase his hoards;
Till to huge heaps the treasur'd offals swell,
And stink in ev'ry corner of his cell.
And thus with wondrous wisdom he purveys
Against contingent want, and rainy days,
And fcorns the fools that dread not to be poor,
But eat their morfel, and enjoy their store.
Behold a fage! immers'd in thought profound :
For science he, for various skill renown'd.
At no mean ends his speculations aim,
(Vile pelf he scorns, nor covets empty fame)
The public good, the welfare of mankind
Employ the generous labour of his mind.
For this his rich imagination teems
With rare inventions and important schemes.
All day his close attention he applies,
Nor gives he midnight slumbers to his eyes;
this his toilfome studies crown, And for the world's repose neglects his own.
All nature's secret causes he explores,
The laws of motion, and mechanic powers :
Hence e'en the elements his art obey,
O’er earth, o'er fire, he spreads his wondrous sway,
And through the liquid sky, and o’er the wat’ry
All problems has his lively thought fubdu'd,
Measur'd the ftars, and found the longitude,
And squar'd the circle, and the tides explaind:
The grand arcanum once he had attain'd,
Had quite attain'd, but that a pipkin broke,
And all his golden hopes expir’d in smoke.
And once, his soul infiam’d with patriot zeal,
A scheme he finish'd for his country's weal.
This, in a private conference made known,
A ftatesman stole, and us’d it for his own,
And then, O baseness ! the deceit to blind,
Our poor projector in this jail confin'd.
The Mufe forbears to visit ev'ry cell,
Each form, each object of distress to tell;
To fhew the fopling, curious in his dress,
Gayly trick'd out in gaudy raggedness;
The poet, ever wrapt in glorious dreams
Of Pagan gods, and Heliconian streams ;
The wild enthufiaft, that despairing fees
Predestin'd wrath, and Heav'n's severe decrecs ;
Through these, through more fad scenes she grieves
And paint the whole yariety of woe.
Mean time, on these reflect with kind concern,
And hence this juft, this useful leffon 'learn:
If strong defires thy reasoning powers controul;
If arbitrary passions fway thy soul ;
If pride, if envy, if the luft of gain,
If wild ambition in thy bosom reign,
Alas! thou vaunt'st thy sober sense in vain.
In these poor Bedlamites thyself survey,
Thyfelf, less innocently mad than they.
That life fo soon must fleet away,
And dust to dust return.
Alas! from death the terrors fly,
When once 'tis understood;
'Tis Nature's call, 'tis God's decree,
And is, and must be good.
Wearied his limbs with honeft toil,
And void of cares his breaft,
See how the lab’ring hind finks down
Each night to wholesome rest.
No nauseous fumes perplex his sleep,
No guilty starts surprise ;
The visions that his fancy forms,
All free and cheerful rise.
So thou, nor led by lusts astray,
Nor galld with anxious strife,
With virtuous industry fulfil
The plain intent of life.
Pass calmly thy appointed day,
And usefully employ,
And then thou’rt sure whate'er fucceed
Is reft, and peace, and joy.
T must be fo con terms so slight
Does Heaven its choicest gifts bestow, To point our fond affections right,
And wean us from the world below,
See, all extinct the vital flame,
She lies consign’d to sacred rest ; She who but now, where'er she came,
Inspir'd with gladness ev'ry breast.
From this dark scene of human woes
Her spotless soul dismiss’d away, The full rewards of virtue knows,
And shines in God's eternal day.
Celestial joys has she to share,
Whilst we our general loss deplore, Since now of all that's good and fair,
The brightest pattern is no more.
But still the tears that copious flow
O'er her fad' urn, are all in vain ;
Nor, when stern fate has struck the blow,
Can call departed life again,