Thus flying eaft and weft, and north and fouth,
News travell'd with increale from mouth to mouth.
So from a fpark, that kindled first by chance, 475
With gath'ring force the quick'ning flames advance,
Till to the clouds their curling heads afpire,
And tow'rs and temples fink in floods of fire.
When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,
Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue,
Thro' thoufand vents, impatient, forth they flow,
And rush in millions on the world below.

'Fame fits aloft, and points them out their course,
Their date determines, and prefcribes their force:
Some to remain, and fome to perish soon,
Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.
Around a thousand winged wonders fly,

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Borne by the trumpet's blaft, and fcatter'd thro' the There, at one paffage, oft you might furvey [sky.

A lie and truth contending for the way;

And long 'twas doubtful, both fo closely pent,
Which firft fhould iffue thro' the narrow vent:
At laft agreed, together out they fly,

Infeparable now the truth and lie;

The ftrict companions are for ever join'd,

And this or that unmix'd, no mortal e'er fhall find.
While thus I ftood, intent to fee and hear,
One came, methought, and whisper'd in my ear,
What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?
'Tis true, faid I, not void of hopes I came,

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For who fo fond as youthful tards of fame?
But few, alas! the cafual bleffing boast,
So hard to gain, fo ealy to be loft.

How vain that fecond life in others' breath,

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Th' eftate which wits inherit after death!

Eafe, health, and life, for this they must resign,

(Unfure the tenure, but how vaft the fine!)

The great man's curfe, without the gains, endure,

Be envy'd, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor;
All lucklefs wits their enemies profest,
And all fuccefsful, jealous friends at best.

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Nor

Nor fame I flight, nor for her favours call;
She comes unlook'd for, if he comes at all.

But if the purchase costs fo dear a price,

As foothing folly, or exalting vice;

Oh! if the Mufe mult flatter lawless fway,

And follow ftill where Fortune leads the way;
Or if no bafis bear my rifing name,

Then teach me, Heav'n! to fcorn the guilty bays,

But the fall'n ruins of another's fame;

Drive from my breaft that wretched luft of praise;
Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown:

Oh! grant an honest Fame, or grant me none!

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OR,

THE MERCHANT'S TALE.

FROM CHAUCER.

THERE liv'd in Lombardy, as authors write,
In days of old, a wife and worthy knight;
Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,

Bleft with much fenfe, more riches, and fome grace;
Yet, led aftray by Venus' foft delights,
He fcarce could rule fome idle appetites :
For long ago, let priefts fay what they cou'd,
Weak finful laymen were but flesh and blood.
But in due time, when fixty years were o'er,
He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more:
Whether pure holinefs infpir'd his mind,
Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find;
But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed,
And try the pleafures of a lawful bed.
This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
And to the heav'nly pow'rs his conftant pray'r,
Once, ere he dy'd, to tafte the blisful life
Of a kind husband and a loving wife.

Thefe thoughts he fortify'd with reafons ftill,
(For none want reasons to confirm their will.)
Grave authors fay, and witty poets fing,
That honeft wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears,
Who wifely weds in his maturer years.
Then let him chuse a damfel young and fair,
To blefs his age, and bring a worthy heir;
Too footh his cares, and, free from noise and ftrife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
Let finful bachelors their woes deplore,
Full well they merit all they feel, and more:
Unaw'd by precepts, human or divine,

Like birds and beafts, promifcuouily they join ;
Nor know to make the prefent bleffing last,
To hope the future, or efteem the past;

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But

But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
And find divulg'd the fecrets they would hide.
The marry'd man may bear his yoke with eafe,
Secure at once himfelf and Heav'n to please;
And pafs his inoffenfive hours away,

In blifs all night, and innocence all day :
Tho' fortune change, his conftant (poufe remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.

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But what fo pure which envious tongues will fpare? Some wicked wits have libel'd all the fair. With matchlefs impudence they style a wife,

The dear-bought curfe, and lawful piague of life; A bofom ferpent, a domestic evil,

A night-invasion, and a mid-day devil.

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Let not the wife these fland'rous words regard,
But curfe the bones of ev'ry lying bard.

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All other goods by Fortune's hand are giv'n,
A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav'n.
Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay,
Like empty fhadows, pafs and glide away;
One folid comfort, our eternal wife
Abundantly fupplies us all our life :

This bleffing lafts (if those who try say true)

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As long as heart can wish-and longer too.
Our grandfire Adam, ere of Eve poffeft,

Alone, and ev'n in paradife unbleft,

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With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd,

And wander'd in the folitary fhade.

The Maker faw, took pity, and bestow'd

Woman, the laft, and beft referv'd of God.

A wife! ah gentle deities! can he

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That has a wife e'er feel adversity?

Would men but follow what the fex advise,

All things would profper, all the world grow wife. 'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won

His father's bleffing from an elder fon :

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Abusive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life

To the wife conduct of a prudent wife :

Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews fhow,

Preferv'd the Jews, and flew th' Assyrian foe :

At

At Efther's fuit the perfecuting fword

Was fheath'd, and Ifrael liv'd to blefs the Lord.
These weighty motives January the sage
Maturely ponder'd in his riper age;

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And, charm'd with virtuous joys, and fober life,
Would try that Chriffian comfort, call'd a Wife.. `80
His friends were fu, non'd on a point fo nice
To pafs their judgment, and to give advice;
But fix'd before, and well refolv'd was he,
(As men that afk advice are wont to be.)

My friends, he cry'd, (and caft a mournful look
Around the rcom, and figh'd before he spoke ;)
Beneath the weight of threefcore years I bend,
And, worn with cares, am haft'ning to my end:
How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well,
In worldly follies which I blush to tell;
But gracious Heav'n has open'd my eyes at last,
With due regret I view my vices paft,
And, as the precept of the Church decrees,
Will take a wife, and live in holy ease:
But fince by counfel all things fhould be done,
And many heads are wifer ftill than one;
Chufe
уси for who beft fhall be content
When my defire's approv'd by your confent.
One caution yet is needful to be told

me,

To guide your choice; this wife must not be old.
There goes a faying, and 'twas fhrewdly faid,
Old fish at table, but young fiefh in bed.
My foul abhors the taftelefs, dry embrace
Of a ftale virgin with a winter face :
In that cold feafon Love but treats his guest
With bean-ftraw, and tough forage at the best.
No crafty widows fhall approach my bed;
Thofe are too wife for bachelors to wed.
As fubtle clerks by many schools are made,
Twice marri'd dames are miftreffes o' th' trade:
But young and tender virgins, rul'd with ease,
We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my fenfe amifs;
'Tis what concerns my foul's eternal blifs;

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