« ForrigeFortsæt »
To hopeless passion yields her heart a prey:
So mourns th' imprison'd lark his hapless fate, In love's soft season ravish'd from his mate; Fondly fatigues his unavailing rage, And hòps and Autters round and round his cage; And inoans and droops, with pining grief opprest, Whilst sweet complainings warble from his breast.
Lo! here a wretch to avarice resign’d, 'Midst gather'd scraps, and shreds, and rags, con
fin'd; His riches these for these he rakes and spares, These rack his bosom, these engross his cares; O'er these he broods, for ever void of rest, And hugs the sneaking passion of his breast. See, from himself the sordid niggard steals, Reserves large scantlings from his slender 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 wondrons wisdom, he purveys Against contingent want and rainy days, And scorns the fools that dread not to be poor, But eat their morsel, and enjoy their store.
Behold a sage! immers'd in thought profound: For science he, for various skill renown'd. At no mean ends his speculation aim, (Vile pelf he scorns, nor covets empty fame) The public good, the welfare of mankind, Employ th'gen'rous 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; Content of this, his toilsome studies crown, And for the world's repose neglects his own. All nature's secret causes he explores, The laws of motion, and mechanic pow'rs; Hence ev’n the elements his art obey, O’er earth, o'er fire, he spreads his wond'rous
sway, And thro' the liquid sky, and o'er the wat'ry way.. Hence ever pregnant with some vast design, He drains the moor-land, or he sinks the mine, Or levels lofty mountains to the plain, Or stops the roaring torrents of the main; Forc'd up by fire, he bids the water rise, And points its course reverted to the skies, His ready fåncy still supplies the means, Forces his tools, and fixes his machines,
Erects his sluices, and his mounds sustains,
The Muse forbears to visit ev'ry cell, Each form, each object of distress to tell; To shew the fopling, curious in his dress, Gaily trick'd out in gaudy raggedness: The poet, ever wrapt in glorious dreams Of Pagan gods and Heliconian streams: The wild enthusiast, that despairing sees Predestin'd wrath, and Heaven's severe decrees ! Thro' these, thro’ more sad scenes she grieves
And paint the whole variety of woe.
Meantime, on these reflect with kind concern, And hence this just, this useful lesson learn: If strong desires thy reas'ning pow'rs control; If arbitrary passions sway thy soul; If pride, if envy, if the loss of gain, If wild ambition in thy bosom reign, Alas! thou vaunt'st thy sober sense in vain : In these poor Bedlamites thyself survey, Thyself, less innocently mad than they.
SHEPHERD AND THE PHILOSOPHER
REMOTE from cities liv'd a swain,
His wisdom, and his honest fame
A deep Philosopher (whose rules
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consum'd the midnight oil ? Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey'd, And the vast sense of Plato weigh'd Hath Socrates thy soul refind, And hast thou fathom’d Tully's mind? Or, like the wise Ulysses, thrown, By various fates, on realms unknown, Hast thou through many cities stray'd, Their customs, laws, and manners weigh’d!
The Shepherd modestly reply'd,