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Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease,
Account him an incumbrance on the state,
Receiving benefits, and rendering none.
His sphere though humble, if that humble sphere
Shine with his fair example, and though smalle
His influence, if that influence all be spent
In soothing sorrow and in quenching strife,
In aiding helpless indigence, in works,
From which at least a grateful few derive
Some taste of comfort in a world of woe,
Then let the supercilious great confess
He serves his country, recompenses well
The state, beneath the shadow of whose vinet
He sits secure, and in the scale of life
Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place.
The man, whose virtues are more felt than seen,
Must drop indeed the hope of public praise;
But he may boast what few that win it can,
That if his country stand not by his skill
At least his follies have not wrought her fall.
Polite refinement offers him in vain

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Her golden tube, through which a sensual world
Draws gross impunity, and likes it well,

The neat conveyance hiding all the offence.com
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode :
Because that world adopts it. If it bear you
The stamp and clear impression of good sense, do
And be not costly more than of true worth,
He puts it on, and for decorum sake
Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she.

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She judges of refinement by the eye, He by the test of conscience, and a heart Not soon deceived; aware that what is base No polish can make sterling; and that vice, Though well perfumed and elegantly dressed, Like an unburied carcase tricked with flowers, Is but a garnished nuisance, fitter far For cleanly riddance than for fair attire. So life glides smoothly and by stealth away,.. More golden than that age of fabled gold Renowned in ancient song: not vexed with care Or stained with guilt, beneficent, approved Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. So glide my life away! and so at last, My share of duties decently fulfilled, May some disease, not tardy to perform Its destined office, yet with gentle stroke, Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat, Beneath the turf, that I have often trod. It shall not grieve me then, that once, when called To dress a Sofa with the flowers of verse, I played awhile, obedient to the fair, 3.4. With that light task; but soon, to please her more, Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, Let fall the unfinished wreath, and roved for fruit; Roved far, and gathered much: some harsh, 'tis true, Picked from the thorns and briars of reproof, But wholesome, well-digested; grateful some To palates, that can taste immortal truth; Insipid else, and sure to be despised.

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But all is in His hand, whose praise I seek.
In vain the poet sings, and the world hears,
If he regard not, though divine the theme.
'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime
And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre,
To charm his ear, whose eye is on the heart;
Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain,
Whose approbation-prosper even mine.

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DEAR JOSEPH-five and twenty years agoAlas how time escapes! 'tis even so— With frequent intercourse, and always sweet, And always friendly, we were wont to cheat A tedious hour-and now we never meet! As some grave gentleman in Terence says, ' ('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days) Good lack, we know not what to-morrow bringsStrange Auctuation of all human things! True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, But distance only cannot change the heart: And, were I called to prove the assertion true, One proof should serve-a reference to you.

Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurred to kindle strife, We find the friends we fancied we had won, Though numerous once, reduced to few or none? Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch? No; gold they seemed, but they were never such.

Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overawed

Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad.
Go, fellow!whither turning short about→→
Nay. Stay at home-you are always going out.
'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.→→→
For what? An please you, sir, to see a friend.
A friend! Horatio cried, and seemed to start
Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart.-
And fetch my cloak; for though the night be raw
I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.

I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
And was his play thing often when a child';
But somewhat at that moment pinched him close,
Else he was seldom bitter or morose.
Perhaps his confidence just then betrayed,
His grief might prompt him with the speech he
made;

Perhaps 'twas mere good-humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind,
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

But not to moralize too much, and strain
To prove an evil of which all complain,
(I hate long arguments verbosely spun,)
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done.
Once on a time an emperor, a wise man,
No matter where, in China or Japan,
Decréed that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,

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