E’en Wisdom's high conceit great wants would feel,

If not supply'd from Fancy's boundless store; And nought but shame makes pow'r itself conceal,

That she, to satisfy, muit promise more.

But tho' experience will not fail to how,

Howe'er its truth man's weakness may upbraid, That what he mostly values here below,

Owes half its relish to kind Fancy's aid ;

Yet should not Prudence her light wing command,

She may too far extend her heedless Aight; For Pleasure foon shall quit her fairy-land

If Nature's regions are not held in sight.

From Truth's abode, in search of kind deceit,

Within due limits she may fafely roam ; If roving does not make her hate retreat, And with averfion fhun her

proper

home.

But thanks to those, whose fond parental care

To Learning's paths my youthful steps confind, I need not fhun a state which lets me share

Each calm delight that soothes the ftudious mind.

While genius lafts, his fame shall ne'er decay,

Whose artful hand first caus'd its fruits to spread ; In lasting volumes stampt the printed lay, And taught the Muses to embalm the dead.

To him I owe each fair instructive page,

Where Science tells me what her sons have known ; Collects their choicest works from ev'ry age,

And makes me wise with knowledge not my own.

Books rightly us'd may ev'ry state secure :
From fortune's evils

peace defend; May teach us how to fhun, or to endure,

The foe malignant, and the faithless friend.

may our

Should rigid Want withdraw all outward aid,

Kind stores of inward comfort they can bring ; Should keen Disease life's tainted stream invade,

Sweet to the soul from them pure health may spring.

Should both at once man's weakly frame infeft,

Some letter'd charm nay still relief supply; 'Gainst all events preparé his patient breast,

And make him quite resign'd to live, or die.

For tho' no words can time or fate restrain;

No sounds suppress the call of Nature's voice; Tho' neither rhymes, nor spells, can conquer pain,

Nor magic's self make wretchedness our choice;

Yet reason, while it forms the subtile plan,

Soine purer source of pleasure to explore, Must deem it vain for that poor pilgrim, man,

To think of refting 'till his journey's o'er ;

Must

Muft deem each fruitless toil, by heav'n design'd

To teach him where to look for real blifs ; Else why should heav'n excite the hope to find

What balk'd pursuit must here for ever miss ?

The GROTTO: An Ode to SILENCE.

By the Same.

OME, musing Silence, nor refuse to shed

Thy sober influence o'er this darkling cell:
Thy desart waste and lonely plain,
Could ne'er confine thy peaceful reign;

Nor dost thou only, love to dwell
"Mid the dark manfions of the vaulted dead :

For still at eve's serenest hour,
All Nature owns thy foothing pow'r:
Oft hast thou deign'd with me to rove,
Beneath the calm fequefter'd grove;
Oft deign'd my secret steps to lead
Along the dewy pathless mead;

Or up the dusky lawn, to spy
The last faint gleamings of the twilight sky.
Then wilt thou still thy penfive vot’ry meet,
Oft as he calls thee to this gloomy seat :
VOL. VI.

G

For

For here, with many a folemn myftic rite,

Wert thou invok'd to consecrate the ground,
Ere these rude walls were rear'd remote from fight,

Or ere with moss this shaggy roof was crown'd :

Hail! blessed parent of each purer thought,
That doth at once the heart exalt and mend !

Here wilt thou never fail to find
My vacant folitudę inclin'd

Thy serious lessons to attend.
For they I ween shall be with goodness fraught,

Whether thou bid mę meditate
On man, in untaught nature's state ;
How far this life he ought to prize;
How far its transient scenes defpife :
What heights his reason may attain,
And where its proud attempts are vain :

What toils his virtue ought to brave,
For Hope's rewarding joys beyond the grave :
Or if in man redeem'd

you

bid me trace Each wond'rous proof of heav'n's transcendent grace ; Then breathe same sparks of that celestial fire,

Which in the raptur'd seraph glows above, Where sainted myriads crowd the joyful choir,

And harp their praises round the throne of love.

The

The trifling fons of Levity and Pride
Hence shall thy aweful seriousness exclude ;

Nor shall loud Riot's thoughtless train
With frantic mirth this grott profane.

No foe to peace shall here intrude.
For thou wilt kindly bid each found subside,

Save such as soothes the lift'ning fense,
And serves to aid thy influence ;
Save where, soft-breathing o'er the plain,
Mild Zephyr waves the ruftling grain :
Or where some stream, from rocky fource,
Slow trickles down its ceaseless course ;

Or where the sea's imperfect roap
Comes gently murm’ring from the distant fhore,
But most in Philomel, sweet bird of night,
In plaintive Philomel, is thy delight:
For fhe, or ftudious to prolong her grief,

Or oft to vary her exhaustless lay,
With frequent pause, from thee shall seek relief,

Nor clofe her strain, till dawns the noisy day,

Without thy aid, to happier tasteful art,
No deep instructive fcience could prevail :

For only where thou doft preside,
Can wit's inventive pow'rs be tried :

And reason's better talk would fail,
Did not thy haunts the serious theme impart,