From touch of human lips, at best impure.
O for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish! over which
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway,
That govern all things here, shouldering aside
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her
To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife
In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men:
Where Violence shall never lift the sword,
Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrong,
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears:
Where he, that fills an office, shall esteem
The occasion it presents of doing good [speak
More than the perquisite: where Law shall
Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts
And Equity; not jealous more to guard
A worthless form than to decide aright:-
Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace)
With lean performance ape the work of Love!

Come then, and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth,
Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine
By ancient covenant ere Nature's birth;
And thou hast made it thine by purchase since,
And overpaid its value with thy blood. [hearts
Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their
Thy title is engraven with a pen
Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love.
Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay
Gives courage to their toes, who could they see
The dawn of thy last advent long desired,
Would creep into the bowels of the hills,
And flee for safety to the falling rocks.
The very spirit of the world is tired

Of its own taunting question ask'd so long,
"Where is the promise of your Lord's approach ?"
The infidel has shot his bolts away,
Till his exhausted quiver yielding none,
He gleans the blunted shafts that have recoil'd,
And ains them at the shield of Truth again.
The veil is rent rent too by priestly hands,
That hides divinity from mortal eyes;
And all the mysteries to faith proposed,
Insulted and traduced are cast aside,

fare

As useless to the moles and to the bats. [praised;
They now are deem'd the faithful, and are
Who, constant only in rejecting thee,
Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal,
And quit their office for their error's sake.
Blind and in love with darkness! yet e'en these
Worthy, compared with sycophants, who kneel
Thy name adoring and then preach thee man!
So fares thy church. But how thy church may
[preach
The world takes little thought. Who will may
And what they will. All pastors are alike
To wandering sheep resolved to follow none.
Two gods divide them all-Pleasure and Gain:
For these they live, they sacrifice to these,
And in their service wage perpetual war [hearts,
With Conscience and with thee. Lust in their
And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth
To prey upon each other: stubborn fierce,
High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace.
Thy prophets speak of such; and, noting down
The features of the last degenerate times,
Exhibit every lineament of these.

Come then and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest,
Due to thy last and most effectual work,
Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world!

He is the happy man whose life e'en now
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come;
Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state,
Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose,
Would make his fate his choice; whom peace,
the fruit

Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith,
Prepare for happiness; bespeak him one
Content indeed to sojourn while he must
Below the skies but having there his home.
The world o'erlooks him in her busy search
Of objects, more illustrious in her view;
And, occupied as earnestly as she,
Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world.
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them
not;

He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain.
He cannot skim the ground like summer birds
Pursuing gilded flies; and such he deems
Her honors, her emoluments, her joys.
Therefore in Contemplation is his bliss,
Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from

earth

She makes familiar with a heaven unseen,
And shows him glories yet to be revealed.
Not slothful he, though seeming unemploy'd,
And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams
Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird
That flutters least is longest on the wing.
Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has raised,
Or what achievements of inmortal fame
He purposes, and he shall answer-None.
His warfare is within. There unfatigued
His fervent spirit labors. There he fights,
And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself,
And never-withering wreaths, compared with
which

The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds.
Perhaps the self-approving haughty world,
That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks
Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see,
Deems him a cypher in the works of Gol,
Receives advantage from his noiseless hours,
Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes
Her sunshine and her rain, her bloo.ning spring
And plenteous harvest to the prayer he makes,
When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint

Walks forth to meditate at even-tide,
And think on her, who thinks not for herself.
Forgive him then thou bustler in concerns
Of little worth an idler in the best,
If author of no mischief and some good,
He seek his proper happiness by means
That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine.
Nor though he tread the secret path of life,
Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease,
Account him an encumbrance on the state,
Receiving benefits and rendering none.
His sphere, though humble, if that humble
sphere

Shine with his fair example, and though small
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
So.ne 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 vine
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

Her golden tube through which a sensual world
Draws gross impurity, and likes it well,
The neat conveyance hiding all the offence.
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode
Because that world adopts it. If it bear
The stamp and clear impression of good sense,
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.
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 dress'd,
Like an unburied carcass trick'd with flowers
Is but a garnish'd 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
Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care
Or stain'd 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 fulfill'd,
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 call'd
To dress a Sofa with the flowers of verse,

I play'd awhile obedient to the fair,

With that light task; but soon, to please her

more,

Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, Let fall the unfinish'd wreath, and roved for

fruit:

(true Roved far, and gather'd much some harsh, tis Pick'd 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. 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 tinckling 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.

DEAR JOSEPH-five-and-twenty years ago-
Alas, 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 brings-
Strange fluctuation of all human things!
True. Changes will befall and friends may part,
But distance only cannot change the heart:
And were I call'd 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 occurr'd 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 seem'd but they were never such.
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe,
Swinging the parlor door upon its hinge,
Dreading a negative and overawed
Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad.
Go, fellow-whither ?-turning short about-
Nay--stay at home-you're 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 seem'd 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 plaything often when a child; But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morose.

Perhaps his confidence, just then betray'd [mnde, His grief might prompt him with the speech he Perhaps 'twas mere good humor 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, Decreed that whosoever should offend Against the well-known duties of a friend, Convicted once, should ever after wear But half a coat and show his bosom bare. The punishment importing this. no doubt. That all was naught within, and all found out.

Oh. happy Britain! we have not to fear Such hard and arbitrary measure here; Else, could a law like that which I relate Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few, that I have known in days of old. Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold; While you my friend whatever wind should blow Might traverse England safely to and fro, An honest man close-button'd to the chin. Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.

Praise him on earth, or, obstinately dumb,
Suffer his justice in a world to come.
This once believed, 'twere logic misapplied
To prove a consequence by none denied,
That we are bound to cast the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heavenly truth,
That taught of God they may indeed be wise,
Nor ignorantly wandering miss the skies.

In early days the conscience has in most
A quickness, which in later life is lost :
Preserved from guilt by salutary fears,
Or guilty soon relenting into tears.
Too careless often, as our years proceed, [read,
What friends we sort with, or what books we
Our parents yet exert a prudent care
To feed our infant minds with proper fare;
And wisely store the nursery by degrees [ease.
With wholesome learning, yet acquired with
Neatly secured from being soil'd or torn
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn,
A book (to please us at a tender age
Tis call'd a book, though but a single page)
Presents the prayer the Saviour deign'd to teach,
Which children use, and parsons-when they
Lisping our syllables, we scramble next [preach.
Through moral narrative, or sacred text;
And learn with wonder how this world began,
Who made, who marr'd, and who has ransom'd

man:

[plain,
Points which, unless the Scripture made them
The wisest heads might agitate in vain.
Oh thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing
Back to the season of life's happy spring,
I pleased remember, and, while memory yet
Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget;
Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail;
Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple
style,

May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile;
Witty, and well employed, and, like thy Lord,
Speaking in parables his slighted word;
I name thee not lest so despised a name
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame;
Yet e'en in transitory life's late day,
That mingles all my brown with sober grey,
Revere the man whose PILGRIM marks the road,
And guides the PROGRESS of the soul to God.
"Twere well with most, if books that could engage
Their childhood pleased them at a riper age;
The man, approving what had charm'd the boy,
Would die at last in comfort peace, and joy,
And not with curses on his heart, who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded soul.
The stamp of artless piety impress'd
By kind tuition on his yielding breast,
The youth, now bearded and yet pert and raw,
Regards with scorn, though once received with
And, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies,
That babblers, call'd philosophers, devise,
Blasphemes his creed, as founded on a plan
Replete with dreams, unworthy of a man.
Touch but his nature in its ailing part,
Assert the native evil of his heart,
His pride resents the charge, although the proof*
Rise in his forehead, and seem rank enough
Point to the cure, describe a Saviour's cross
As God's expedient to retrieve his loss,
The young apostate sickens at the view,
And hates it with the malice of a Jew.

*See 2 Chron. xxvi. 19.

[awe;

How weak the barrier of mere nature proves, Opposed against the pleasures nature loves! While self-betray'd, and wilfully undone, She longs to yield, no sooner wooed than won. Try now the merits of this blest exchange Of modest truth for wit's eccentric range Time was, he closed as he began the day, With decent duty, not ashamed to pray The practice was a bond upon his heart, A pledge he gave for a consistent part; Nor could he dare presumptuously displease A power confess'd so lately on his knees. But now farewell all legendary tales, The shadows fly, philosophy prevails; Prayer to the winds, and caution to the waves; Religion makes the free by nature slaves. Priests have invented, and the world admired What knavish priests promulgate as inspired; Till Reason, now no longer overawed, [fraud; Resumes her powers, and spurns the clumsy And, common sense diffusing real day, The meteor of the Gospel dies away. Such rhapsodies our shrewd discerning youth Learn from expert inquirers after truth; Whose only care, might truth presu.ne to speak, Is not to find what they profess to seek, And thus, well tutor'd only while we share A mother's lectures and a nurse's care; And taught at schools much mythologic stuff,* But sound religion sparingly enough; Our early notices of truth disgraced, Soon lose their credit, and are all effaced. Would you your son should be a sot or dunce, Lascivious, headstrong or all these at once; That in good time the stripling's finish d taste For loose expense and fashionable waste Should prove your ruin, and his own at last; Train him in public with a mob of boys, Childish in mischief only and in noise, Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten, In infidelity and lewdness men. There shall he learn, ere sixteen winters old. That authors are most useful pawn'd or sold; That pedantry is all that schools impart, But taverns teach the knowledge of the heart; There waiter Dick, with bacchanalian lays Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise, His counsellor and bosom friend shall prove, And some street-pacing harlot his first love. Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong, Detain their adolescent charge too long; The management of tiros of eighteen Is difficult, their punishment obscene. The stout tall captain, whose superior size The minor heroes view with envious eyes, Becomes their pattern upon whom they fix Their whole attention and ape all his tricks. His pride, that scorns to obey or to submit, With them is courage; his effrontery wit. His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, Robbery of gardens quarrels in the streets His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes, [themes. Transport them, and are made their favorite In little bosoms such achievements strike A kindred spark: they burn to do the like.

*The author begs leave to explain.-Sensible that, without such knowledge, neither the ancient poets nor historians can be tasted, or indeed understood, he does not mean to censure the pains that are taken to instruct a schoolboy in the religion of the heathen, but merely that neglect of Christian culture which leaves him shamefully ignorant of his own.

ceeds,

[bout,

For public schools 'tis public folly feeds.
The slaves of custom and establish'd mode,
With packhorse constancy we keep the road,
Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells,
True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink
With both our eyes, is easier than to think:
And such an age as ours balks no expense,
Except of caution and of common sense;
Else sure notorious fact, and proof so plain,
Would turn our steps into a wiser train.

I blame not those who, with what care they can,
O'erwatch the numerous and unruly clan;
Or, if I blame, 'tis only that they dare
Promise a work of which they must despair.
Have ye, ye sage intendants of the whole,
A ubiquarian presence and control,
Elisha's eye, that, when Gehazi stray'd,
Went with him and saw all the game he play'd?
Yes-ye are conscious; and on all the shelves
Your pupils strike upon have struck yourselves.
Or if by nature sober, ye had then,
Boys as ye were, the gravity of men,
Ye knew at least, by constant proofs address'd
To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest.
But
ye connive at what ye cannot cure,
And evils not to be endured endure,
Lest power exerted, but without success.
Should make the little ve retain still less.
Ye once were justly famed for bringing forth
Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth;
And in the firmament of fame still shines
A glory bright as that of all the signs,
Of poets raised by you and statesmen, and divines.
Peace to them all! those brilliant times are fled,
And no such lights are kindling in their stead.
Our striplings shine indeed, but with such rays
As set the midnight riot in a blaze;
And seem, if judged by their expressive looks,
Dexper in none than in their surgeons' books.
Say muse, (for education made the song,
No muse can hesitate or linger long)
What causes move us knowing as we must,
That these ménageries all fail their trust
To send our sons to scout and scamper there.
While colts and puppies cost us so much care?
Be it a weakness. it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching and the heart is stone
That feels not at that sight and feels at none,
The wall on which we tried our graving skill,
The very name we carved subsisting still;
The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd,
Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd. not yet
destroy'd;

With his own likeness placed on either knee,
Indulges all a father's heartfelt glee;
And tells them as he strokes their silver locks,
That they must soon learn Latin, and to box;
Then turning he regales his listening wife
With all the adventures of his early life;
His skill in coachmanship, or driving chaise,
In bilking tavern-bills, and spouting plays;
What shirts he used, detected in a scrape,
How he was flogg'd, or had the luck to escape;
What sums he lost at play, and how he sold
Watch, seals, and all-till all his pranks are told.
Retracing thus his frolics, ('tis a name
That palliates deeds of folly and of shame,)
He gives the local bias all its sway;
Resolves that where he play'd his sons shall play,
And destines their bright genius to be shown
Just in the scene where he display'd his own.
The meek and bashful boy will soon be taught
To be as bold and forward as he ought;
The rude will scuffle through with ease enough,
Great schools suit best the sturdy and the rough.
Ah, happy designation. prudent choice,
The event is sure; expect it, and rejoice!
Soon see your wish fulfill'd in either child,
The pert made perter, and the tame made wild.
The great indeed, by titles, riches, birth,
Excused the incumbrance of more solid worth,
Are best disposed of where with most success
They may acquire that confident address,

Those habits of profuse and lewd expense,
That scorn of all delights but those of sense,
Which, though in plain plebeians we condemn,
With so much reason, all expect from them.
But families of less illustrious fame,
Whose chief distinction is their spotless name,
Whose heirs, their honors none, their income
Must shine by true desert, or not at all, [small,
What dream they of, that, with so little care
They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure,
there?

They dream of little Charles or William graced
With wig prolix, down flowing to his waist;
They see the attentive crowds his talents draw,
They hear him speak-the oracle of law.
The father, who designs his babe a priest,
Dreams him episcopally such at least;
And, while the playful jockey scours the room
Briskly, astride upon the parlor broom,
In fancy sees him more superbly ride
In coach with purple lined, and mitres on its side.
Events improbable and strange as these,
Which only a parental eye forsees,

A public school shall bring to pass with ease.
But how? resides such virtue in that air,
As must create an appetite for prayer?