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Silence he cannot bear, noife is distraction,

Noife kills with bustle, filence with reflection;

No want he feels,

-what has he to pursue ?

To him 'tis less to suffer, than to do.

The busy world's a fool, the learn'd a fot,
And his fole hope to be by all forgot :

Wealth is procur'd with toil, and kept with fear,
Knowledge by labour purchas'd cofts too dear;
Friendship's a clog, and family a jest,
A wife but a bad bargain at the best;
Honour a bubble, subject to a breath,

And all engagements vain fince null❜d by death;
Thus all the wise esteem, he can despise,
And caring not, 'tis he alone is wife:
Yet, all his wifh poffeffing, finds no rest,
And only lives to know, he never can be bleft.

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Faithful now and stedfast prove,
God of truth and God of love!
Since at length my aged eye

Sees the day-spring from on high.
Son of righteousness, to thee
Lo! the nations bow the knee,
And the realms of diftant kings
Own the healing of thy wings.
Those whom death had overfpread
With his dark and dreary shade,
Lift their eyes, and from afar
Hail the light of Jacob's ftar ;
Waiting till the promis'd ray
Turn their darkness into day.
See the beams intensely shed
Shine o'er Sion's favour'd head.
Never may they hence remove,
God of truth and God of love!

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On the Invention of LETTERS.

'ELL me what Genius did the art invent,

The lively image of the voice to paint;

Who firft the fecret how to colour sound,
And to give shape to reason, wifely found;
With bodies how to cloath ideas, taught;
And how to draw the picture of a thought:

Who

Who taught the hand to speak, the eye to hear
A filent language roving far and near;

Whose softeft noise outftrips loud thunder's found,
And spreads her accents thro' the world's vaft round:
A voice heard by the deaf, fpoke by the dumb,
Whofe echo reaches long, long time to come;
Which dead men speak as well as thofe alive-
Tell me what Genius did this art contrive.

T

The ANSWER.

HE noble art to Cadmus owes its rife,

Of painting words, and speaking to the eyes;

He firft in wond'rous magic fetters bound

The airy voice, and ftop'd the flying found:
The various figures by his pencil wrought,
Gave colour, form, and body to the thought.

On W IT.

RUE wit is like the brilliant stone

TRUS

Dug from the Indian mine;

Which boasts two various powers in one

To cut as well as shine.

Genius, like that, if polish'd right,

With the fame gifts abounds;
Appears at once both keen and bright,
And sparkles while it wounds.

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On a SPIDE R.

RTIST, who underneath table
my

Thy curious texture haft difplay'd;

Who, if we may believe the fable,

Wert once a fair ingenious maid :

Infidious, restless, watchful fpider,
Fear no officious damfel's broom,
Extend thy artful fabric wider,

And spread thy banners round my room.

Swept from the rich man's coftly ceiling,
Thou'rt welcome to my homely roof;
Here may'st thou find a peaceful dwelling,
And undisturb'd attend thy woof.

Whilft I thy wond'rous, fabric stare at,
And think on hapless poet's fate;
Like thee confin'd to lonely garret,
And rudely banish'd rooms of state.

And as from out thy tortur'd body
Thou draw'ft thy flender ftring with pain,

So does he labour, like a noddy,

To spin materials from his brain.

He

He for fome fluttering tawdry creature,
That spreads her charms before his eye ;
And that's a conqueft little better

Than thine o'er captive butterfly.

Thus far 'tis plain we both agree,
Perhaps our deaths may better fhew it;

'Tis ten to one but penury

Ends both the spider and the poet.

K

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The PLAY-THING chang'd.
ITTY's charming voice and face,
Syren-like, first caught my fancy;
Wit and humour next take place,
And now I doat on fprightly Nancy.

Kitty tunes her pipe in vain,

With airs moft languishing and dying;

Calls me falfe ungrateful swain,
And tries in vain to shoot me flying.

Nancy with refistless art,

Always humourous, gay, and witty;

Has talk'd herself into my heart,

And quite excluded tuneful Kitty.

Ah Kitty! Love, a wanton boy,

Now pleas'd with fong, and now with prattle,

Still longing for the newest toy,

Has chang'd his whistle for a rattle.

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