Juft what is elegantly useful's there;
Of aught beyond he scorns th' unworthy care;
Nor would, for all the trim that pride can show,
One fingle act of focial aid forego;

For this he labors to improve his ftore,'

For this he wishes to enlarge his pow'r;

This is his life's great purpose, end, and aim: Such true ambition is, and worthy fame.

How different Rapax spent his worthless hour! With treasure indigent, a flave with pow'r : Large fums o'erlooking, ftill intent on more, He wasted, not enjoy'd, his tasteless store. His growing greatness rais'd his hopes the high'r, And fan'd his restless pride's increafing fire. 'Twas thus amidst profperity he pin'd; For what can fill the falfe-ambitious mind? With all the honors that his prince could give, With all the wealth his av'rice could receive, 'Midft outward opulence, but inward care, Reproach and want was all he left his heir.

'Tis true, the patriot well deserves his fame, And from his country just applause may claim. But what avails it to the world befide, That Brutus bravely ftab'd, or Curtius dy'd?

While Tully's merit, unconfin'd to place,
Diffuses bleffings down through all our race;
Remoteft times his learned labors reach,

And Rome's great moralift ev'n now shall teach.
Averse to public noise, ambition's ftrife,
And all the fplendid ills of bufy life,

Through latent paths, unmark'd by vulgar eye,
Are there who wish to pass unheeded by ?
Whom calm retirement's facred pleasures move,
The hour contemplative, or friend they love;
Yet not by fpleen, or fuperftition led,
Forbear ambition's giddy heights to tread;
Who not inglorious spend their peaceful day,
Whilst science, lovely star! directs their way?
Flows there not fomething good from fuch as these?
No useful product from the men of ease?
And fhall the Muse no focial merit boast?
Are all her vigils to the public lost?
Though noify pride may scorn her filent toil,
Fair are the fruits which bless her happy foil:
There every plant of useful produce grows,
There science sprang, and thence inftruction flows;
There true philosophy erects her school,

There plans her problem, and there forms her rule;

There

There every feed of every art began,

And all that eases life, and brightens man.

'Twas hence great Newton, mighty genius! foar'd, And all creation's wond'rous range explor'd.

Far as th' Almighty stretch'd his utmost line

He pierc'd in thought, and view'd the vast design.
Too long had darker ages fought in vain
The secret scheme of nature to explain;
Too long had truth escap'd each fage's eye,
Or faintly fhone through vain philofophy.
Each shapely offspring of her feeble thought,
A darker veil o'er genuine fcience brought;
Still ftubborn facts o'erthrew their fruitless toil;
For truth and fiction who fhall reconcile?

But Britain's fons a furer guide pursue;

Tread fafe the maze, fince Newton gave the clue.
Where-e'er he turn'd true Science rear'd her head,
While far before her puzzled Ign'rance fled:
From each bleft truth thefe noble ends he draws,
Ufe to mankind, and to their God applause.
Taught by his rules fecure the merchant rides,

When threat'ning feas roll high their dreadful tides;
And either India fpeeds her precious ftores,
'Midft various dangers fafe to Britain's shores.

VOL. I.

Long

Long as thofe orbs he weigh'd fhall shed their rays,
His truth fhall guide us, and shall last his praise.
Yet if so just the fame, the use fo great,
Systems to poife, and spheres to regulate;
To teach the fecret well-adapted force,

That fteers of countless orbs th' unvaried courfe;
Far brighter honors wait the nobler part,

To balance manners, and conduct the heart.
Order without us, what imports it feen,
If all is restless anarchy within?

Fir'd by this thought great Afhley, gen'rous fage,

a

Plan'd in fweet leifure his inftructive page.

Not orbs he weighs, but marks, with happier fkill,
The scope of actions and the poife of will:
In fair proportion here defcrib'd we trace
Each mental beauty, and each moral grace;
Each useful paffion taught, its tone defign'd
In the nice concord of a well-tun'd mind.
Does mean felf-love contract each focial aim?
Here public transports shall thy foul inflame.
Virtue and Deity fupremely fair,

Too oft delineated with looks fevere,

Refume their native fmiles and graces here:

See the Characteristics, particularly the enquiry concerning Virtue and the Moralifts.

I

Sooth'd

Sooth'd into love relenting foes admire,

And warmer raptures every friend inspire.
Such are the fruits which from retirement fpring;
These bleffings eafe and learned leisure bring.

Yet of the various tasks mankind employ, 'Tis fure the hardest, leisure to enjoy.

For one who knows to tafte this godlike bliss,'
What countless swarms of vain pretenders miss?
Though each dull plodding thing, to ape the wife,
Ridiculously grave, for leisure fighs,

(His boasted with from bufy fcenes to run)
Grant him that leifure, and the fool's undone.
The gods, to curfe poor Demea, heard his vow,
And business now no more contracts his brow:
Nor real cares, 'tis true, perplex his breast,
But thousand fancied ills his peace moleft:
The flightest trifles folid forrows prove,

And the long ling'ring wheel of life fcarce feems to move.

Useless in business, yet unfit for ease,

Nor skill'd to mend mankind, nor form'd to please,
Such spurious animals of worthless race

Live but the public burthen and disgrace :
Like mean attendants on life's stage are seen,

Drawn forth to fill, but not conduct the scene.

The