As useless, to the moles and to the bats.
They now are deem'd the faithful, and are praised, 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 knee Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man! So fares thy church. But how thy church may
The world takes little thought. Who will may Preach,
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 With Conscience and with thee.
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
From which at least a grateful few derive Some 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 ; Roved far, and gather'd much: some harsh, 'tis true, 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 tinkling 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.
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