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Without a soil to' invite the tiller's care,
Ye monarchs, whom the lure of honour draws,
Fast by the stream that bounds your just domain, And tells you where ye have a right to reign, A nation dwells, not envious of your throne, Studious of peace, their neighbours', and their own. Ill fated race ! how deeply must they rue Their only crime, vicinity to you! The trumpet sounds, your legions swarm abroad, Through the ripe harvest lies their destined road; At every step beneath their feet they tread The life of multitudes, a nation's bread! Earth seems a garden in its loveliest dress Before them, and behind a wilderness. Famine, and Pestilence, her firstborn son, Attend to finish what the sword begun;
And echoing praises, such as tiends might earn,
Yet man, laborious man, by slow degrees
Increasing commerce and reviving art Renew the quarrel on the conqueror's part; And the sad lesson must be learn’d once more That wealth within is ruin at the door. What are ye, monarchs, laureld heroes, say, But Ætnas of the suffering world ye sway? Sweet Nature, stripp'd of her embroider'd robe, Deplores the wasted regions of her globe; And stands a witness at Truth's awful bar, To prove you there destroyers as ye are.
O, place me in some Heaven-protected isle, Where Peace, and Equity, and Freedom smile; Where no volcano pours his fiery flood, No crested warrior dips his plume in blood; Where Power secures what Industry has won: Where to succeed is not to be undone; A land that distant tyrants hate in vain, In Britain's isle, beneath a George's reign!
Amicitia nisi inter bonos esse non potest.
1782. What virtue, or what mental grace, But men unqualified and base
Will boast it their possession? Profusion
the noble part Of liberality of heart,
And dulness of discretion.
Provoke to imitation;
Or rather constellation.
A real and a sound one;
And dream that he had found one.
An error soon corrected
Is most to be suspected ? VOL. I.
But here again a danger lies,
And taken trash for treasure,
A mere Utopian pleasure.
An acquisition rather rare
Nor is it wise complaining,
We sought without attaining.
No friendship will abide the test,
Or mean self love erected;
For vicious ends connected.
Who seeks a friend should come disposed
and the beauties That form the character he seeks; For 'tis a union that bespeaks
Mutual attention is implied,
And constantly supported:
Our own as much distorted.
But will sincerity suffice?
And must be made the basis;
All shining in their places.
A fretful temper will divide
be tied, By ceaseless sharp corrosion; A temper passionate and fierce May suddenly your joys disperse
At one immense explosion.
In vain the talkative unite
The secret just committed,
And by themselves outwitted.
How bright soe'er the prospect seems,
If envy chance to creep in;
if May prove a dangerous foe indeed,
But not a friend worth keeping.
As Envy pines at good possess’d,
On good that seems approaching;
And hates him for encroaching.