Nor, of the gift, for tuneful ends defign'd,
Allow one part to decorate his fong.
While ridicule, with ever-pointing hand
Confcious of ev'ry fhift, of ev'ry shift
Indicative, his inmost plot betrays,

Points to the nook, which he his study calls
Pompous and vain! for thus he might esteem
His cheft, a wardrobe; purfe, a treafury;
And fhews, to crown her full display, himself.
One whom the pow'rs above, in place of health,
And wonted vigour, of paternal cot,
Or little farm; of bag, or fcrip, or staff,
Cup, dish, spoon, plate, or worldly utenfil,
A poet fram'd; yet fram'd not to repine,
And wish the cobler's loftieft fite his own;
Nor, partial as they feem, upbraid the fates,
Who to the humbler mechanifm, join'd
Goods fo fuperior, fuch exalted blifs!

See with what feeming eafe, what labour'd peace
He, hapless hypocrite! refines his nail,

His chief amufement! then how feign'd, how forc'd, That care-defying fonnet, which implies

His debts difcharg'd, and he of half a crown

In full poffeffion, uncontested right

And property! Yet ah! whoe'er this wight
Admiring view, if fuch there be, distrust
The vain pretence; the fmiles that harbour grief,
As lurks the ferpent deep in flow'rs enwreath'd.
Forewarn'd, be frugal; or with prudent rage
Thy pen demolish; chufe the truftier flail,
T 3

And

And bless thofe labours which the choice infpir'd.
But if thou view'ft a vulgar mind, a wight

Of common fenfe, who feeks no brighter name,
Him envy, him admire, him, from thy breaft,
Prefcient of future dignities, falute

Sheriff, or may'r, in comfortable furs

Enwrapt, fecure: nor yet the laureat's crown
In thought exclude him! He perchance shall rife
To nobler heights than forefight can decree.
When fir'd with wrath, for his intrigues difplay'd
In many an idle fong, Saturnian Jove

Vow'd fure deftruction to the tuneful race;
Appeas'd by fuppliant PHOEBUS, "Bards, he said,
Henceforth of plenty, wealth, and pomp debarr'd,
But fed by frugal cares, might wear the bay
Secure of thunder."-Low the Delian bow'd,
Nor at th' invidious favour dar'd repine.

The RUIN'D

OR,

ABBY;

The EFFECTS of SUPERSTITION.

A

T length fair peace with olive crown'd regains

Her lawful throne, and to the facred haunts Of wood or fount the frighted mufe returns. Happy the bard, who, from his native hills, Soft-mufing on a fummer's eve, furveys

His azure ftream, with penfile woods enclos'd!
Or o'er the glaffy furface, with his friend,
Or faithful fair, thro' bord'ring willows green
Wafts his fmall frigate. Fearless he of shouts,
Or taunts, the rhetoric of the wat❜ry crew

That ape confufion from the realms they rule!
Fearless of these; who fhares the gentler voice
Of peace and mufic; birds of sweeteft fong
Attune from native boughs their various lay,
And chear the foreft; birds of brighter plume
With bufy pinion skim the glitt'ring wave,
And tempt the fun; ambitious to display
Their feveral merit, while the vocal flute,
Or number'd verfe, by female voice endear'd,
Crowns his delight, and mollifies the scene.

If folitude his wand'ring fteps invite

To fome more deep recefs, (for hours there are,
When gay, when focial minds to friendship's voice,
Or beauty's charm, her wild abodes prefer)
How pleas'd he treads her venerable shades,
Her folemn courts! the center of the grove!
The root-built cave, by far-extended rocks
Around embofom'd, how it foothes the foul!
If scoop'd at first by fuperftitious hands
The rugged cell receiv'd alone the fhoals
Of bigot-minds, religion dwells not here,
Yet virtue pleas'd, at intervals, retires :
Yet here may wisdom, as fhe walks the maze,
Some ferious truths collect, the rules of life,
And ferious truths of mightier weight than gold!

I ask not wealth; but let me hoard with care,
With frugal cunning, with a niggard's art,
A few fix'd principles; in early life,

Ere indolence impede the fearch, explor❜d.
Then like old LATIMER, when age impairs
My judgment's eye, when quibbling schools attack
My grounded hope, or fubtler wits deride,
Will I not blush to fhun the vain debate,

And this mine anfwer; "Thus, 'twas thus I thought.
"My mind yet vigorous, and my foul entire ;
"Thus will I think, averse to listen more
"To intricate difcuffion, prone to ftray.
"Perhaps my reason may but ill defend
"My fettled faith; my mind, with age impair'd,
"Too fure its own infirmities declare.

"But I am arm'd by caution, ftudious youth,
"And early forefight; now the winds may rife,
"The tempeft whistle, and the billows roar ;
"My pinnace rides in port, defpoil'd and worn,
"Shatter'd by time and storms, but while it shuns
"Th' inequal conflict, and declines the deep,
"Sees the ftrong veffel fluctuate less fecure."
Thus while he ftrays, a thoufand rural fcenes
Suggest instruction, and inftructing please.
And fee betwixt the grove's extended arms
An abby's rude remains attract thy view,
Gilt by the mid-day fun : with ling'ring ftep
Produce thine axe, (for, aiming to deftroy...
Tree, branch, or fhade, for never fhall thy breaft
Too long deliberate) with timorons hand

Remove th' obftructive bough; nor yet refufe,
Tho' fighing, to destroy that fav'rite pine,
Rais'd by thine hand, in its luxuriant prime
Of beauty fair, that fcreens the vaft remains.
Aggriev'd but conftant as the Roman fire,
The rigid MANLIUS, when his conqu❜ring fon
Bled by a parent's voice; the cruel meed
Of virtuous ardor, timelessly display'd ;
Nor ceafe 'till, thro' the gloomy road, the pile
Gleam unobstructed; thither oft thine eye
Shall sweetly wander; thence returning, foothe
With penfive scenes thy philofophic mind.

These were thy haunts, thy opulent abodes,
O fuperftition! hence the dire disease,
(Ballanc'd with which the fam'd Athenian pest
Were a short head-ach, were the trivial pain
Of tranfient indigestion) feiz'd mankind.

Long time the rag'd, and scarce a fouthern gale
Warm'd our chill air, unloaded with the threats
Of tyrant ROME; but futile all, 'till fhe,
ROME's abler legate, magnify'd their pow'r,
And in a thoufand horrid forms attir'd.

Where then was truth, to fanctify the page.
Of British annals? if a foe expir'd,
The perjur'd monk fuborn'd infernal fhrieks,
And fiends to fnatch at the departing foul
With hellish emulation. If a friend,

High o'er his roof exultant angels tune

Their golden lyres, and waft him to the fkies.

What then were vows, were oaths, were plighted faith?

The