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Thus have I sought to grace a serious lay
With many a wild indeed but flow'ry spray,
In hopes to gain, what else I must have lost,
Th' attention pleasure has so much engross'd.
But if unhappily deceiv'd I dream,
And prove too weak for so divine a theme,
Let Charity forgive me a mistake,
That zeal, not vanity, has chanc'd to make,
And spare the poet for his subject's sake.
Nam neque me tantum venientis sitilus austri,
Vmc. Eel. 4.
Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To evVy man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in it's better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As Alphabets in ivory employ,
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure, and receive their due.
The heathen law-givers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian's praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men.
And shut up ev'ry satyr in his den.
O come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting pow'r
Taints in it's rudiments the promis'd flow'r;
It's odour perish'd and it's charming hue,
Thenceforth 'tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not ev'n the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or j ust
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.
So wither'd stumps disgrace the sylvan scene,
No longer fruitful, and no longer green;
The sapless wood, divested of the bark,
Grows fungous, and takes fire at ev'ry spark.
Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all strife— Some men have surely then a peaceful life;
Whatever subject occupy discourse, The feats of Vestris, or the naval force, Asseveration blust'ring in your face Makes contradiction such a hopeless case: In ev"ry tale they tell, or false or true, Well known, or such as no man ever knew, They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forc'd into the brain; And ev'n when sober truth prevails throughout, They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt. A Persian, humble servant of the sun, Who though devout, yet bigotry had none, Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address, With adjurations ev'ry word impress, Suppos'd the man a bishop, or at least, God's name so much upon his lips, a priest; N Bow'd at the close with all his graceful airs,
And begg'd an int'rest in his frequent prayr's.
Go, quit the rank to which ye stood preferr'd,