Like him, the foul thus kindled from above,
Spreads wide her arms of univerfal love,
And still enlarg'd as fhe receives the grace,
Includes creation in her close embrace.
Behold a Chriftian-and without the fires
The founder of that name alone inspires,
Though all accomplishment, all knowledge meet,
To make the fhining prodigy complete,
Whoever boafts that name-behold a cheat.
Were love, in thefe the world's laft doting years, As frequent as the want of it appears,
The churches warm'd, they would no longer hold
Such frozen figures, ftiff as they are cold;
Relenting forms would lofe their pow'r or cease,
And ev❜n the dipt and fprinkled, live in peace;
Each heart would quit its prison in the breast,
And flow in free communion with the reft.
The ftatefman, fkill'd in projects dark and deep,
Might burn his ufelefs Machiavel, and fleep;
His budget often fill'd, yet always poor,
Might fwing at ease behind his ftudy door,
No longer prey upon our annual rents,
Nor fcare the nation with its big contents:
Disbanded legions freely might depart,
And flaying man would ceafe to be an art.
No learned difputants would take the field,
Sure not to conquer, and fure not to yield,
Both fides deceiv'd, if rightly understood,
Pelting each other for the public good.
Did charity prevail, the prefs would prove
A vehicle of virtue, truth and love,
And I might spare myfelf the pains to show
What few can learn, and all fuppofe they know.
Thus have I fought to grace a ferious lay
With many a wild indeed, but flow'ry fpray,
In hopes to gain what else I must have lost,
Th' attention pleasure has fo much engrofs'd.
But if unhappily deceiv'd I dream,
prove too weak for fo divine a theme,
Let Charity forgive me a mistake
That zeal, not vanity, has chanc'd to make,
And fpare the poet for his fubject fake,
Nam neq; me tantum venientis fibilus auftri,
Nec percuffa juvant flutú tam litora, nec quæ
Saxofas inter decurrunt flumina valles.
THOUGH nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To ev'ry man his modicum of fenfe,
And Converfation in its 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 fowing of the foil.
Words learn'd by rote, a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse,
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The conftant creaking of a country fign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter'd boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Thofe feeds of science call'd his A B C ;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witnefs its infignificant refult,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to fport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the fum into its folid worth,
And if it weigh th' importance of a fly,
The scales are falfe, or Algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few refpect or ufe thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of ev'ry wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue,
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or fell their glory at a market-price,
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath ftays him, or elfe God would ftrike them dumb; His wife forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen law-givers of ancient days,
Names almoft worthy of a Chriftian praise,
Would drive them forth from the refort of men,'
And fhut up ev'ry fatyr in his den.
Oh 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 its rudiments the promis'd flow'r,
Its odour perifh'd and its charming hue,
Thenceforth 'tis hateful for it fmells of you,
Not ev'n the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolefcence or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or juft,
For making fpeech the pamperer of luft;
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