With trips to town life to amuse,
To purchase books, and hear the news,
To see old friends, brush off the clown,
And quicken taste at coming down,
Unhurt by sickness' blasting rage,
And slowly mellowing in age,
When Fate extends its gathering gripe,
Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe,
Quit a worn being without pain,
Perhaps to blossom soon again.

But now more serious see me grow,
And what I think, my Memmius, know.

Th' enthusiast's hope, and raptures wild,
Have never yet my reason foild.
His springy soul dilates like air,
When free from weight of ambient care,
And, hush'd in meditation deep,
Slides into dreams, as when asleep;
Then, fond of new discoveries grown,
Proves a Columbus of her own,
Disdains the narrow bounds of place,
And through the wilds of endless space,
Borne up on metaphysic wings,
Chases light forms and shadowy things,
And in the vague excursion caught,
Brings home some rare exotic thought.
The melancholy man such dreams,
As brightest evidence, esteems;
Fain would he see some distant scene
Suggested by his restless Spleen,
And Fancy's telescope applies
With tinctur'd glass to cheat his eyes.
Such thoughts, as love the gloom of night,
I close examine by the light;
For who, thougii brib'd by gain to lie,
Dare sunbeam-written truths deny,
And execute plain common sense
On faith's mere hearsay evidence ?

That superstition mayn't create,
And club its ills with those of Fate,
I many a notion take to task,
Made dreadful by its visor-mask.
Thus scruple, spasm of the mind,
Is cur'd, and certainty I find,
Since optic reason shows me plain,
I dreaded spectres of the brain;
And legendary fears are gone,
Though in tenacious childhood sown.
Thus in opinions I commence
Freeholder in the proper sense,
And neither suit nor service do,
Nor homage to pretenders show,
Who boast themselves by spurious roll
Lords of the manor of the soul;
Preferring sense, from chin that's bare,
To nonsense thron'd in whisker'd hair.

To thee, Creator uncreate,
O Entium Ens! divinely great!
Hold, Muse, nor melting pinions try,
Nor near the blazing glory fly,
Nor straining break thy feeble bow,
Unfeather'd arrows far to throw :
Through fields unknown nor madly stray
Where no ideas mark the way.
With tender eyes, and colors faint,

And trembling hands, forbear to paint.
Who features veil'd by light can hit?
Where can, what has no outline, sit?
My soul, the vain attempt forego,
Thyself, the fitter subject, know
He wisely shuns the bold extreme,
Who soon lays by th' unequal theme,
Nor runs, with Wisdom's syrens caught,
On quicksands swall'wing shipwreck d thought;
But, conscious of his distance, gives
Mute praise, and humble negatives.
In one, no object of our sight,
Immutable, and infinite,
Who can't be cruel or unjust,
Calm and resign'd, I fix my trust;
To him my past and present state
I owe, and must my future sate.
A stranger into life I'm come,
Dying may be our going home,
Transported here by angry Fate,
The convicts of a prior state.
Hence I no anxious thoughts bestow
On matters I can never know ;
Through life's foul way, like vagrant pass'd,
He'll grant a settlement at last,
And with sweet ease the wearied crown,
By leave to lay his being down.
If doom'd to dance th' eternal round
Of life no sooner lost but found,
And dissolution soon to come,
Like sponge, wipes out life's present sum,
But can't our state of pow'r bereave
An endless series to receive;
Then, if hard dealt with here by Fate,
We balance in another state,
And consciousness must go along,
And sign th'acquittance for the wrong.
He for his creatures must decree
More happiness than misery,
Or be supposed to create,
Curious to try, what 'tis to hate :
And do an act, which rage infers,
'Cause lameness balts, or blindness errs.

Thus, thus I steer my bark, and sail
On even keel with gentle gale ;
At helm I make my reason sit,
My crew of passions all submit.
If dark and blust'ring prove some nights,
Philosophy puts forth her lights;
Experience holds the cautious glass,
To shun the breakers, as I pass,
And frequent throws the wary lead,
To see what dangers may be hid;
And once in seven years I'm seen
At Bath or Tunbridge, to careen.
Though pleas'd to see the dolphins play,
I mind my compass and my way,
With store sufficient for relief,
And wisely still prepar'd to reef,
Nor wanting the dispersive bowl
Of cloudy weather in the soul,
I make, (may Heav'n propitious send
Such wind and weather to the end)
Neither becalm'd, nor over-blown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.

To the mind's ear, and inward sight,
Their silence speaks, and shade gives light:
While insects from the threshold preach,
And minds dispos'd to musing teach:
Proud of strong limbs and painted hues,
They perish by the slightest bruise ;
Or maladies, begun within,
Destroy more slow life's frail machine;
From maggot-youth through change of state,
They feel like us the turns of fate;
Some born to creep have liv'd to fly,
And change earth-cells for dwellings high ;
And some that did their six wings keep,
Before they died been forc'd to creep;
They politics like ours profess,
The greater prey upon the less :
Some strain on foot huge loads to bring;
Some toil incessant on the wing,
And in their different ways explore
Wise sense of want by future store ;
Nor from their vigorous schemes desist
Till death, and then are never miss'd.
Some frolic, toil, marry, increase,
Are sick and well, have war and peace,
And, broke with age, in half a day
Yield to successors, and away.

Let not profane this sacred place,
Hypocrisy with Janus' face;
Or Pomp, mixt state of pride and care;
Court Kindness, Falsehood's polish'd ware ;
Scandal disguis'd in Friendship's veil,
That tells, unask'd, th' injurious tale ;
Or art politic, which allows
The Jesuit-remedy for vows;
Or priest, perfuming crowned head,
'Till in a swoon Truth lies for dead;
Or tawdry critic, who perceives
No grace, which plain proportion gives,
And more than lineaments divine
Admires the gilding of the shrine;
Or that self-haunting spectre Spleen,
In thickest fog the clearest seen;
Or Prophecy, which dreams a lie,
That fools believe and knaves apply;
Or frolic Mirth, profanely loud,
And happy only in a crowd ;
Or Melancholy's pensive gloom,
Proxy in Contemplation's room.

O Delia! when I touch this string,
To thee my Muse directs her wing.
Unspotted fair! with downcast look
Mind not so much the murm'ring brook ;
Nor fixt in thought, with footsteps slow
Through cypress alleys cherish woe :
I see the soul in pensive fit,
And moping like sick linnet sit.
With dewy eye, and moulting wing,
Unperch’d, averse to fly or sing ;
I see the favorite curls begin
(Disus'd to toilet discipline)
To quit their post, lose their smart air,
And grow again like common hair;
And tears, which frequent kerchiefs dry,
Raise a red circle round the eye ;
And by this bur about the Moon,
Conjecture more ill weather soon.
Love not so much the doleful knell:
And news the boding night-birds tell ;

Nor watch the wainscot's hollow blow;
And hens portentous when they crow;
Nor sleepless mind the death-watch beat;
In taper find no winding-sheet:
Nor in burnt coal a coffin see,
Though thrown at others, meant for thee:
Or when the coruscation gleams,
Find out not first the bloody streams;
Nor in imprest remembrance keep
Grim tap'stry figures wrought in sleep;
Nor rise to see in antique hall
The moonlight monsters on the wall,
And shadowy spectres darkly pass
Trailing their sables o'er the grass,
Let vice and guilt act how they please
In souls, their conquer'd provinces;
By Heaven's just charter it appears,
Virtue's exempt from quartering fears,
Shall then arm'd fancies fiercely drest,
Live at discretion in your breast ?
Be wise, and panic fright disdain,
As notions, meteors of the brain ;
And sights perform’d, illusive scene!
By magic-lantern of the Spleen.
Come here, from balesul cares releas'd,
With Virtue's ticket, to a feast,
Where decent Mirth and Wisdom, join'd
In stewardship, regale the mind.
Call back the Cupids to your eyes,
I see the godlings with surprise,
Not knowing home in such a plight,
Fly to and fro, afraid to light.-

Far from my theme, from method far,
Convey'd in Venus' flying car,
I go compell’d by feather'd steeds,
That scorn the rein, when Delia leads.

No daub of elegiac strain These holy wars shall ever stain; As spiders Irish wainscot flee, Falsehood with them shall disagree; This floor let not the valgar tread, Who worship only what they dread: Nor bigots who but one way see Through blinkers of authority. Nor they who its four saints defame By making virtue but a name; Nor abstract wit, (painful regale To hunt the pig with slippery tail!) Artists, who richly chase their thought, Gaudy without, but hollow wrought; And beat too thin, and tool'd too much To bear the proof and standard touch : Nor fops to guard this sylvan ark, With necklace bells in treble bark : Nor cynics growl and fiercely paw, The mastiffs of the moral law. Come, nymph, with rural honors drest, Virtue's exterior form confest, With charms untarnish’d, innocence Display, and Eden shall commence; When thus you come in sober fit, And wisdom is preferr'd to wit; And looks diviner graces tell, Which don't with giggling muscles dwell; And Beauty like the ray-clipt Sun, With bolder eye we look upon ; Learning shall with obsequious mien Tell all the wonders she has seen;

&

THE SPARROW AND DIAMOND.

A SONG

I LATELY saw, what now I sing,

Fair Lucia's hand display'd ; This finger grac'd a diamond ring,

On that a sparrow play'd.

The feather'd plaything she caress'd,

She strok'd its head and wings; And while it nestled on her breast,

She lisp'd the dearest things.

With chisel'd bill a spark ill-set

He loosen'd from the rest, And swallow'd down to grind his meat,

The easier to digest.

She seiz'd his bill with wild affright,

Her diamond to descry: 'Twas gone! she sicken'd at the sight,

Moaning her bird would die.

The tongue-tied knocker none might use,

The curtains none undraw, The footmen went without their shoes,

The street was laid with straw.

Reason her logic armor quit,
And proof to mild persuasion sit;
Religion with free thought dispense,
And cease crusading against sense ;
Philosophy and she embrace,
And their first league again take place :
And Morals pure, in duty bound,
Nymph-like the sisters chief surround;
Nature shall smile, and round this cell
The turf to your light pressure swell,
And knowing Beauty by her shoe,
Well air its carpet from the dew.
The Oak, while you his umbrage deck,
Lets fall his acorns in your neck;
Zephyr his civil kisses gives,
And plays with curls instead of leaves :
Birds, seeing you, believe it spring,
And during their vacation sing;
And flow'rs lean forward from their seats,
To traffic in exchange of sweets ;
And angels bearing wreaths descend,
Preferr'd as vergers to attend
This fane, whose deity entreats
The fair to grace its upper seats.

O kindly view our letter'd strife,
And guard us through polemic life;
From poison vehicled in praise,
For Satire's shots but slightly graze;
We claim your zeal, and find within,
Philosophy and you are kin.

What virtue is we judge by you;
For actions right are beauteous too ;
By tracing the sole female mind,
We best what is true nature find:
Your vapors bred from fumes declare
How steams create tempestuous air,
Till gushing tears and hasty rain
Make Heav'n and you serene again.
Our travels through the starry skies
Were first suggested by your eyes ;
We, by the interposing fan,
Learn how eclipses first began:
The vast ellipse from Scarbro's home,
Describes how blazing comets roam :
The glowing colors of the cheek
Their origin from Phæbus speak;
Our watch how Luna strays above
Feels like the care of jealous love;
And all things we in science know
From your known love for riddles flow.

Father! forgive, thus far I stray, Drawn by attraction from my way. Mark next with awe the foundress well Who on these banks delights to dwell; You on the terrace see her plain, Move like Diana with her train. If you then fairly speak your mind, In wedlock since with Isis join'd, You 'll own, you never yet did see, At least in such a high degree, Greatness delighted to undress; Science a sceptred hand caress ; A queen the friends of freedom prize ; A woman wise men canonize.

The doctor us'd his oily art

Of strong emetic kind, Th' apothecary play'd his part,

And engineer'd behind.

When physic ceas'd to spend its store,

To bring away the stone, Dicky, like people given o'er,

Picks up, when let alone.

His eyes dispell’d their sickly dews,

He peck'd behind his wing; Lucia, recovering at the news,

Relapses for the ring.

Meanwhile within her beauteous breast

Two different passions strove ; When av'rice ended the contest,

And triumph'd over love.

Poor little, pretty, fluttering thing,

Thy pains the sex display, Who, only to repair a ring,

Could take thy life away.

Drive av'rice from your breasts, ye fair,

Monster of foulest mien :
Ye would not let it harbor there,

Could but its form be seen.
It made a virgin put on guile,

Truth's image break her word, A Lucia's face forbear to smile,

A Venus kill her bird.