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And there are Who
that this is well! as God has made All things for man's good pleasure, so of men The many
for the few ! court-moralists,
O my God!
AGE and YOUTH.
By JOSEPH COTTLE.
Talk not thus, unthinking youth,
Darting the enthusiast eyes, Of your justice and your truth,
And the liberty you prize; You are now to manhood risen,
Cast your cloister'd dreams away! You must burst your mental prison,
And endure the light of day.
Must I ever bid adieu
To the hopes I long have known,
That the dreams of youth are flown ?.
For a world so lost and blind ?
Heap my praises on mankind ?
What is Virtue but a name?
Phantom of the Hermit's cell !
Must with other Beings dwell ;
And whose laws alone can chain;
And forever will remain.
I will never meanly swerve
heart allaw'd, I will never Interest serve,
God of the ambitious crowd ! Wealth and fame, if these forsake me
For the loves my heart beguile; Tho' at eve the storm o'ertake me,
In the morning I shall smile.
fix'd to this decision ?
bear the world's derision ?
eyes You may talk and you may blame,
Till with talking you are old ; In a world so dead to shame,
Virtue must be bought and sold,
Never, never, ancient Father!
Virtue must not stoop so low; Truth and freedom I would rather
Honor, than all forms below; These the spring of life shall nourish
When the wintry tempests sound, Like the bay-tree, these shall flourish
Greener for the waste around.
Thoughtless Youth! you little know
What delusions round you throng; You may feel your bosom glow
At the sound of freedom's song ; You the rain-bow tints may cast.
O'er the forms that please your eye; But, experience will at last
Show that all was vanity.