Scarce deigns to notice him, or if the fee

Deems him a cypher in the works of God,
Receives advantage from his noiseless hours
Of which she little dreams.

Perhaps the owes

Her funshine and her rain, her blooming spring And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes, When, Ifaac like, the folitary faint

Walks forth to meditate at even-tide,

And think on her, who thinks not for herself.
Forgive him then, thou buftler in concerns
Of little worth, and idler in the best,
If, author of no mifchief and fome good,
He feek his proper happiness by means
That may advance, but cannot hinder thine.
Nor though he tread the secret path of life,
Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease,
Account him an incumbrance on the state,
Receiving benefits, and rend'ring none,

His fphere though humble, if that humble fphère
Shine with his fair example, and though small
His influence, if that influence all be spent
In foothing forrow and in quenching strife,
In aiding helpless indigence, in works
From which at least a grateful few derive
Some taste of comfort in a world of woc,

Then let the fupercilious great confefs

He

He ferves his country; recompenfes well-
The state beneath the shadow of whofe vine
He fits fecure, and in the fcale of life
Holds no ignoble, though a flighted place.
The man whofe virtues are more felt than feen,
Muft drop indeed the hope of public praise;
But he may boast what few that win it can,
That if his country ftand 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 fenfual world
Draws grofs impurity, and likes it well,

The neat conveyance hiding all th' offence.
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode
Because that world adopts it. If it bear
The ftamp and clear impreffion of good sense,
And be not coftly more than of true worth,
He puts it on, and for decorum fake
Can wear it e'en as gracefully as fhe.

She judges of refinement by the eye,
He by the test of confcience, and a heart
Not foon deceiv'd; aware that what is bafe
No polish can make fterling, and that vice,
Though well perfum'd and elegantly drefs'd,
Like an unburied carcafe trick'd with flow'rs,
Is but a garnish'd nuifance, fitter far

For

For cleanly riddance than for fair attire."
So life glides smoothly and by ftealth away,
More golden than that age of fabled gold
Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care
Or ftrain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd

Of God and man, and peaceful in its end.
So glide my life away! and fo at last,
My share of duties decently fulfill'd,
May some disease, not tardy to perform
Its deftin'd office, yet with gentle stroke,
Difmifs me weary to a safe retreat

Beneath the turf that I have often trod.

It fhall not grieve me, then, that once, when call'd To drefs a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse,

I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair,

With that light task; but soon, to please her more
Whom flow'rs alone I knew would little please,
Let fall the unfinish'd wreath, and rov'd for fruit ;
Roy'd far, and gather'd much fome harfh, 'tis
true,

Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof,
But wholesome, well-digefted; grateful fome
To palates that can taste immortal truth,
Infipid elfe, and fure to be defpis'd.
But all is in his hand whofe praise I seek.
In vain the poet fings, and the world hears,

If

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, whofe eye is on the heart;
Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain,
Whofe approbation-profper even mine.

AN

AN

EPISTLE

JOSEPH

ΤΟ

HILL, ESQ.

D

}

EAR JOSEPH-five and twenty years agoAlas! how time escapes-'tis even soWith frequent intercourse, and always sweet, And always friendly, we were wont to cheat A tedious hour-and now we never meet. As fome grave gentleman in Terence says, ('Twas therefore much the fame in ancient days) Good lack, we know not what to-morrow bringsStrange fluctuation of all human things! True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, But distance only cannot change the heart : And, were I call'd to prove th' affertion true, One proof should serve—a reference to you.

Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle ftrife,

We