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A. 'Twould thin the ranks of the poetic tribe, To dash the pen through all that you profcribe.

B. No matter we could shift when they were not, And should no doubt if they were all forgot.

THE

THE PROGRESS OF ERROR.

Si quid loquar audiendum. HOR. LIB. 4. Od. 2.

ING mufe (if fuch a theme, so dark, fo long,

SING

May find a muse to grace it with a fong)

By what unfeen and unfufpected arts,

The ferpent error twines round human hearts;
Tell where she lurks, beneath what flow'ry shades,
That not a glimpse of genuine light pervades ;
The pois'nous, black, infinuating worm,
Successfully conceals her loathfome form.

Take,

Take, if ye can, ye carelefs and fupine !
Counfel and caution from a voice like mine
Truths that the theorist could never reach,
And obfervation taught me, I would teach.
Not all whofe eloquence the fancy fills,
Mufical as the chime of tinkling rills,
Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend,
Can trace her mazy windings to their end;
Difcern the fraud beneath the fpecious lure,
Prevent the danger, or prefcribe the cure.
The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear,
Falls foporific on the liftless ear;

Like quickfilver, the rhet'ric they display,
Shines as it runs, but grafp'd at, flips away.
Plac'd for his trial on this bustling stage,
From thoughtless youth to ruminating age,
Free in his will to chufe or to refuse,
Man may improve the crifis, or abuse;
Elfe, on the fatalifts unrighteous plan,
Say, to what bar amenable were man?

With

With nought in charge, he could betray no trust,
Aud if he fell, would fall because he must;

If love reward him, or if vengence strike,

His recompence in both, unjust alike.
Divine authority within his breast

Brings every thought, word, action to the teft,

Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains,
As reafon, or as paffion, takes the reigns.

Heav'n from above, and confcience from within,
Cry in his startled ear, abftain from fin.
The world around folicits his defire,

And kindles in his foul a treach'rous fire,
While all his purposes and steps to guard,
Peace follows virtue as its fure reward;
And pleasure brings as furely in her train,
Remorfe and forrow and vindictive pain.

Man thus endued with an elective voice,
Must be supplied with objects of his choice.
Where'er he turns, enjoyment and delight,
Or prefent, or in prospect, meet his fight;

Thefe

Thefe open on the fpot their honey'd ftore,
Thofe call him loudly to purfuit of more.
His unexhausted mine, the fordid vice

Avarice fhows, and virtue is the price.

Here, various motives his ambition raise,
Pow'r, pomp, and fplendor, and the thirst of praise ;
There beauty wooes him with expanded arms,
L'en Bacchanalian madness has its charms.

Nor thefe alone, whofe pleasures lefs refin'd,
Might well alarm the most unguarded mind,
Seck to fupplant his unexperienc'd youth,
Or lead him devious from the path of truth;
Hourly allurements on his paffions prefs,
Safe in themselves, but dang'rous in th' excess.
Hark! how it floats upon the dewy air,

O what a dying, dying clofe was there!
'Tis harmony from yon fequefter'd bow'r,

Sweet harmony that foothes the midnight hour;
Long ere the charioteer of day had run

His morning course, the enchantment was begun,

And

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