« הקודםהמשך »
No loop-hole left, no slight pretence,
Wise Ebony, who deem'd it good
“ Those parts which heaven bestow'd should
drown, " A butt to all the sots in town?
me, Tom--what fort can stand “ (Though regular, and bravely mann'd) “ If night and day the fierce foe plies “ With never-ceasing batteries; “ Will there not be a breach at last?". " Uncle, 'tis true-forgive what's past." “ But if nor interest, nor fame, “ Nor health, can your dull soul reclaim, “ Hast not a conscience, man? no thought * Of an hereafter dear are bought “ These sensual pleasures."-" I relent, “ Kind sir_but give your zeal a ventThen, pouting, hung his head; yet still Took care his uncle's glass to fill, Which as his hurried spirits sunk, Unwittingly, good man! he drunk. Each pint, alas ! drew on the next, Old Ebony stuck to his text, Grown warm, like any angel spoke, Till intervening hickups broke The well-strung argument. Poor Tom Was now too forward to reel home That preaching still, this still repenting, Both equally to drink consenting, Till both brimful could swill no more, And fell dead drunk
the floor. Bacchus, the jolly god, who sate Wide-straddling o'er his tun in state,
Close by the window side, from whence He heard this weighty conference; Joy kindling in his ruddy cheeks, Thus the indulgent godhead speaks : “ Frail mortals, know, reason in vain “Rebels, and would disturb my reign. “ See there the sophister o'erthrown, “ With stronger arguments knock'd down “ Than e'er in wrangling schools were known! « The wine that sparkles in this glass “ Smooths every brow, gilds every face: vapours
when the sun appears, 66 Far hence anxieties and fears: • Grave ermine smiles, lawn sleeves grow gay, " Each haughty monarch owns my sway, “ And cardinals and popes obey: • Evin Cato drank his glass, 'twas I “ Taught the brave patriot how to die “ For injur'd Rome and liberty; “'Twas I who with immortal lays “ Inspir'd the bard that sung his praise. « Let dull unsociable fools « Loll in their cells, and live by rules; “ My votaries, in gay delight “ And mirth, shall revel all the night; “ Act well their parts on life's dull stage, • And make each moment worth an age.”
BORN 1716.-DIED 1742.
RICHARD West, the lamented friend of Gray, who died in his twenty-sixth year.
Yes, happy youths, on Camus' sedgy side,
An imitation of Elegy V. 3d book of Tibullus.—This poem written by this interesting youth at the age of twenty.
Or real pains, or those which fancy raise,
Just heav'n! what sin, ere life begins to bloom, Devotes my head untimely to the tomb? Did e'er this hand against a brother's life Drug the dire bowl, or point the murd'rous knife? Did e'er this tongue the slanderer's tale proclaim, Or madly violate my Maker's name? Did e'er this heart betray a friend or foe, Or know a thought but all the world might know? As yet just started from the lists of time, My growing years have scarcely told their prime; Useless, as yet, through life I've idly run, No pleasures tasted, and few duties done. Ah, who, ere autumn's mellowing suns appear, Would pluck the promise of the vernal year; Or, ere the grapes their purple hue betray, Tear the crude cluster from the mourning spray? Stern Power of Fate, whose ebon sceptre rules The Stygian deserts and Cimmerian pools, Forbear, nor rashly smite my youthful heart, A victim yet unworthy of thy dart; Ah, stay till age shall blast my withering face, Shake in my head, and falter in my pace; Then aim the shaft, then meditate the blow, And to the dead my willing shade shall go.
How weak is man to Reason's judging eye! Born in this moment, in the next we die;