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"Take it away,”—the husband cry'd,
I have repeated cause to chide:
Sir, you should all excesses shun;
This is a picture overdone!

There's too much ardour in that eye,
The tincture on the cheeks too high!
The robes have a lascivious play,
The attitude 's too loosely gay.
Friend, on the whole, this piece, for me,
Is too luxuriant-far too free."

The painter thus-" The faults you find
Are form'd in your capricious mind;
To passion a devoted slave,
The first directions, sir, you gave;
Possession has repell'd the flame,
Nor left a sentiment the same.

"My picture is design'd to prove The changes of precarious love.

"On the next stair-case rais'd on high, Regard it with a curious eye; As to the first steps you proceed, 'Tis an accomplish'd piece indeed! But as you mount some paces higher, Is there a grace that don't expire ?" So various is the human mind, Such are the frailties of mankind, What at a distance charm'd our eyes, After attainment-droops-and dies.

FORTUNE:

AN APOLOGUE.

FABULA NARRATUR.

Jove and his senators, in sage debate

For man's felicity, were settling laws, When a rude roar, that shook the sacred gate, Turn'd their attention to inquire the cause.

A long-ear'd wretch, the loudest of his race,
In the rough garniture of grief array'd,
Came brawling to the high imperial place,
"Let me have justice, Jupiter !"—he bray'd,

"I am an ass, of innocence allow'd

The type, yet Fortune persecutes me still; While foxes, wolves, and all the murd'ring crowd, Beneath her patronage can rob and kill.

"The pamper'd horse (he never toil'd so hard!) Favour and friendship from his owner finds; For endless diligence,—(a rough reward!) I'm cudgel'd by a race of paltry hinds. "On wretched provender compell'd to feed! The rugged pavement ev'ry night my bed! For me, dame Fortune never yet decreed The gracious comforts of a well-thatch'd shed. "Rough and unseemly 's my irreverent hide! Where can I visit, thus uncouthly drest? That outside elegance the dame deny'd,

For which her fav'rites are too oft caress'd.

"To suffring virtue, sacred Jove, be kind!
From Fortune's tyranny pronounce me free!
She's a deceiver if she says she 's blind,
She sees, propitiously sees all-but me."
VOL XIV.

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"To the green vale, yon shelt'ring hills surround,
Go forward, you'll arrive at Wisdom's cell:
Would you be taught where Fortune may be found,
None can direct your anxious search so well."

Forward they went, o'er many a dreary spot:
(Rough was the road, as if untrod before)
Till from the casement of a low-roof'd cot
Wisdom perceiv'd them, and unbarr'd ber door.
Wisdom (she knew of Fortune but the name)
Gave to their questions a serene reply:
"Hither," she said, "if e'er that goddess came,
I saw her not-she pass'd unnotic'd by.

"Abroad with Contemplation oft I roam,

And leave to Poverty my humble cell: She's my domestic, never stirs from home, If Fortune has been here, 'tis she can tell,

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