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There feels a pleasure perfect in its kind,
Ranges at liberty, and fnuffs the wind.
But when his lord would quit the busy road,
To tafte a joy like that he has bestow'd,

He proves, lefs happy than his favour'd brute,
A life of eafe a difficult purfuit.

Thought, to the man that never thinks, may feem
As natural, as when afleep, to dream,

But reveries (for human minds will act)
Specious in fhow, impoffible in fact,

Thofe flimfy webs that break as soon as wrought,
Attain not to the dignity of thought.

Nor yet the fwarms that occupy the brain
Where dreams of drefs, intrigue, and pleasure reign,

Nor fuch as ufelefs converfation breeds,

Or luft engenders, and indulgence feeds.

Whence, and what are we? to what end ordain'd? What means the drama by the world fuftain'd? Business or vain amufement, care or mirth, Divide the frail inhabitants of earth,

Is duty a mere sport, or an employ?
Life an intrusted talent, or a toy?

Is there as reafon, confcience, fcripture fay,
Cause to provide for a great future day,
When earth's affign'd duration at an end,
Man fhall be fummon'd and the dead attend?
The trumpet-will it found? the curtain rife?
And show th' auguft tribunal of the skies,
Where no prevarication shall avail,
Where eloquence and artifice fhall fail,
The pride of arrogant diftinctions fall,
And confcience and our conduct judge us all?
Pardon me, ye that give the midnight oil,
To learned cares or philofophic toil,
Though I revere your honourable names,
Your useful labors and important aims,
And hold the world indebted to your aid,
Enrich'd with the difcoveries ye have made,
Yet let me ftand excufed, if I efteem
A mind employ'd on fo fublime a theme,

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Pufhing her bold enquiry to the date
And outline of the present tranfient state,
And after poifing her advent'rous wings,
Settling at last upon eternal things,

Far more intelligent, and better taught
The ftrenuous ufe of profitable thought,
Than ye when happiest, and enlighten'd most,
And highest in renown, can justly boast.

A mind unnerv❜d, or indifpos'd to bear
The weight of fubjects worthieft of her care,
Whatever hopes a change of scene inspires,
Muft change her nature, or in vain retires.
An idler is a watch that wants both hands,
As ufelefs if it goes as when it ftands.

Books therefore, not the scandal of the shelves,
In which lewd fenfualifts print out themselves,
Nor thofe in which the ftage gives vice a blow,
With what fuccefs, let modern manners fhow,
Nor his, who for the bane of thousands born,
Built God a church and laugh'd his word to scorn,
Skilful

Skilful alike to feem devout and just,
And ftab religion with a fly fide-thrust;
Nor those of learn'd philologifts, who chase
A panting fyllable through time and space,
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark,
To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark
But fuch as learning without falfe pretence,
The friend of truth, th' affociate of found sense,
And fuch as in the zeal of good defign,

Strong judgment lab'ring in the scripture mine,
All fuch as manly and great fouls produce,
Worthy to live, and of eternal use;

Behold in these what leisure hours demand,
Amusement and true knowledge hand in hand.
Luxury gives the mind a childish cast,
And while she polishes, perverts the taste,
Habits of close attention, thinking heads,
Become more rare as diffipation fpreads,
'Till authors hear at length, one gen'ral cry,
Tickle and entertain us, or we die.

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The loud demand from year to year the fame,
Beggars invention and makes fancy lame,
'Till farce itself moft mournfully jejune,
Calls for the kind affiftance of a tune,
And novels (witness ev'ry month's review)
Belie their name and offer nothing new,
The mind relaxing into needful sport,
Should turn to writers of an abler fort,
Whofe wit well manag'd, and whofe claffic ftile,
Gives truth a luftre, and makes wisdom fmile.

Friends (for I cannot ftint as fome have done
Too rigid in my view, that name to one,
Though one, I grant it in th' gen'rous breast
Will stand advanc'd a step above the reft,
Flow'rs by that name promifcuously we call,
But one, the rofe, the regent of them all)
Friends, not adopted with a fchool-boy's hafte,
But chofen with a nice difcerning taste,
Well-born, well-difciplin'd, who plac'd a-part
From vulgar minds, have honour much at heart,

And

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