THE

PROGRESS OF ERROR.

Si quid loquar audiendum. HOR. Lib. 4. Od. 2.

SING, mufe, (if fuch a theme, so dark, so long,
May find a muse to grace it with a fong)
By what unfeen and unfufpected arts

The ferpent error twines round human hearts;
Tell where she lurks, beneath what flow'ry fhades,
That not a glimpse of genuine light pervades,
The pois'nous, black, infinuating worm
Successfully conceals her loathfome form.

Take, if ye can, ye careless and fupine,

Counfel and caution from a voice like mine!
Truths, that the theorift could never reach,

And obfervation taught me, I would teach.
Not all, whofe eloquence the fancy fills,
Mufical as the chime of tinkling rills,
Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend,
Can trace her mazy windings to their end;
Difcern the fraud beneath the fpecious lure,
Prevent the danger, or prefcribe the cure.
The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear,
Falls foporific on the listless ear;

Like quickfilver, the rhet'ric they difplay
Shines as it runs, but, grafp'd at, flips away.
Plac'd for his trial on this buftling stage,
From thoughtless youth to ruminating age,
Free in his will to choose or to refufe,
Man may improve the crisis, or abuse;
Elfe, on the fatalifts unrighteous plan,
Say, to what bar amenable were man?

With nought in charge, he could betray no truft; And, if he fell, would fall because he must;

If love reward him, or if vengeance strike,

His recompenfe in both unjust alike.

Divine authority within his breast

Brings ev'ry thought, word, action, to the test; Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains, As reafon, or as paffion, takes the reins.

Heav'n from above, and conscience from within, Cries in his ftartled ear-Abstain from fin!

The world around folicits his defire,

And kindles in his foul a treach'rous fire;
While, all his purposes and steps to guard,
Peace follows virtue, as its fure reward;
And pleasure brings as furely in her train
Remorse, and forrow, and vindictive pain.

Man, thus endued with an elective voice,

Must be fupplied with objects of his choice.
Where'er he turns, enjoyment and delight,
Or prefent, or in profpect, meet his fight;

Those open on the fpot their honey'd store;
These call him loudly to purfuit of more.

His unexhaufted mine the fordid vice

Avarice shows, and virtue is the price.

Here various motives his ambition raife

Pow'r, pomp, and splendour, and the thirst of praife;
There beauty woos him with expanded arms;
E'en Bacchanalian madnefs has its charms.

Nor these alone, whose pleasures, lefs refin'd,
Might well alarm the most unguarded mind,
Seek to fupplant his inexperienc'd youth,

Or lead him devious from the path of truth;
Hourly allurements on his paffions prefs,
Safe in themselves, but dang'rous in th' excess.
Hark! how it floats upon the dewy air!

O what a dying, dying close was there!
'Tis harmony from yon fequefter'd bow'r,

Sweet harmony, that fooths the midnight hour!
Long ere the charioteer of day had run

His morning courfe, th' enchantment was begun;

And he fhall gild yon mountain's height again,

Ere

yet the pleasing toil becomes a pain.

Is this the rugged path, the steep ascent,

That virtue points to? Can a life thus fpent

Lead to the blifs fhe promifes the wife,

Detach the foul from earth, and speed her to the skies?

Ye devotees to your ador'd employ,

Enthusiasts, drunk with an unreal joy,

Love makes the mufic of the bleft above,

Heav'n's harmony is univerfal love;

And earthly founds, though sweet and well combin'd,

And lenient as foft opiates to the mind,

Leave vice and folly unfubdu'd behind.

Gray dawn appears; the sportsman and his train
Speckle the bofom of the diftant plain;

'Tis he, the Nimrod of the neighb'ring lairs;
Save that his fcent is lefs acute than their's,
For perfevering chafe, and headlong leaps,
True beagle as the staunchest hound he keeps.
Charg'd with the folly of his life's mad fcene,
He takes offence, and wonders what you mean;