"Yet, though averse to gold in heaps amass'd, I wish to bless, I languish to bestow; And though no friend to Fame's obstreperous blast, Still to her dulcet murmurs not a foe. 'Too proud with servile tone to deign address; Too mean to think that honours are my due; Yet should some patron yield my stores to bless, I sure should deem my boundless thanks were few. 'But tell me, thou! that, like a meteor's fire Shot'st blazing forth, disdaining dull degrees; Should I to wealth, to fame, to power aspire, Must I not pass more rugged paths than these? * Must I not groan beneath a guilty load, Praise him I scorn, and him I love betray? Does not felonious Envy bar the road? Or Falsehood's treacherous foot beset the way? "Say, should I pass through Favour's crowded gate, Must not fair Truth inglorious wait behind? Whilst I approach the glittering scenes of state, My best companion no admittance find? 'Nurs❜d in the shades by Freedom's lenient care, ‘And when proud Fortune's ebbing tide recedes, And when it leaves me no unshaken friend; Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads, Which oaks embosom, and which hills defend? "Oh! if these ills the price of power advance, Check not my speed where social joys invite!'The troubled vision cast a mournful glance, And, sighing, vanish'd in the shades of night. HE DESCRIBES HIS EARLY LOVE OF POETRY, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. АH me! what envious magic thins my fold? I saw my friends in evening circles meet; Ill-fated bard! that seeks his skill to show, To guide his doubtful step, has more to fear. Ev'n though it led me boundless leagues astray. Youth's gentle kindred, Health and Love, were met; * Written after the death of Mr. Pope. Thou know'st how transport thrills the tender breast So first when Phoebus met the Cyprian queen, Now sadly lorn, from Twit'nam's widow'd bow'r Where is the dappled pink, the sprightly rose? Enough of tears has wept the virtuous dead; Ah! might we now the pious rage control! If near some trophy spring a stripling bay, * Alludes to what is reported of the bay-tree, that if it is planted too near the walls of an edifice, its roots will work their way un derneath, till they destroy the foundation, HE DESCRIBES HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS. TO A FRIEND. I NE'ER must tinge my lip with Celtic wines; And from my grove I hear the throstle sing. To carve your loves, to paint your mutual flames, See! polish'd fair, the beech's friendly rind! To sing soft carols to your lovely dames, See vocal grots, and echoing vales assign'd! Wouldst thou, my Strephon, Love's delighted slave! Though sure the wreaths of chivalry to share, Forego the ribbon thy Matilda gave, And giving, bade thee in remembrance wear? Ill fare my peace, but every idle toy, If to my mind my Delia's form it brings, Has truer worth, imparts sincerer joy, Than all that bears the radiant stamp of kings. O my soul weeps, my breast with anguish bleeds, When Love deplores the tyrant power of Gain! Disdaining riches as the futile weeds, I rise superior, and the rich disdain. Oft from the stream slow-wandering down the glade, Though now exalted to yon ambient sky, And to a ducat's dirty sphere confines. But come, my Friend! with taste, with science blest, Ere age impair me, and ere gold allure; Restore thy dear idea to my breast, The rich deposit shall the shrine secure. Let others toil to gain the sordid ore, The charms of independence let us sing; Bless'd with thy friendship, can I wish for more? I'll spurn the boasted wealth of Lydia's king.* TO FORTUNE, SUGGESTING HIS MOTIVE FOR REPINING AT HER DIS- Ask not the cause why this rebellious tongue * Crœsus. |