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How Adulation drops her courtly dew
On titled rhimers and inglorious kings!
See from the depths of his exhaustless mine,
His glitt'ring ftores the tuneful spendthrift throws:
Was Parnell's modest fame, and may be mine.
Which led thee here, let manhood firm pursue; Retain the fweet fimplicity of youth;
And all thy virtue dictates, dare to do.
Still fcorn, with confcious pride, the mask of art;
And teach the diffident, difcreeter part
Of knaves that plot, and fools that fawn for pow'r.
So, round thy brow when Age's honours spread,
When the green turf lies lightly on his head,
Thy worth fhali fome fuperior bard infpire:
He to the ampleft bounds of Time's domain
On Rapture's plume thall give thy name to fly; For truft, with rev'rence truft, this Sabine ftrain, "The Mufe forbids the virtuous man to die."
TO A FRIEND.
AH! ceafe this kind perfuafive strain,
Which, when it flows from Friendship's tongue,
O'erpow'rs beyond the Siren's fong:
Soft tinkling down the mofs-grown hill,
While thro' the weft, where finks the crimson day,
Meek Twilight flowly fails, and waves her banners gray!
Say, from Affliction's various fource
And cannot Fancy clear their course?
Say, mid that grove, in love-lorn state,
Ah, no! fair Fancy rules the fong:
She fwells her throat; fhe guides her tongue;
Quiver in cadence to her lay;
To fuit the tenor of her gurgling fighs,
And foothe her throbbing breast with folemn fympathies.
To thee, whofe young and polish'd brow
Yet fome there are, who, free from fear,
Though midnight thunders fhook the pile;
(As faintly flash the light'nings blue,)
Thin fhiv'ring ghofts from yawning charnels throng, And glance with filent sweep the shaggy vaults along
But fuch terrific charms as thefe,
I afk not yet; my fober mind
The fainter forms of fadnefs please;
His heart can melt with friendly woe),
He too, perchance, when these poor limbs are laid, Will heave one tuneful figh, and foothe my hovering
WHEN in the crimson cloud of even,
The ling'ring light decays,
His glittering gem displays;
I.efide a lulling ftream,
Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur pil'd,
High o'er the glimmering dale;
Ye woods, along whofe winding wild
Murmurs the folemn gale; Where Melancholy ftrays forlorn,
And Woe retires to weep,
What time the wan moon's yellow horn
Το you, ye waftes, whofe artless charms
Deep in your most fequefter'd bow'r
Let me at laft recline,
Where Solitude, mild, modest pow'r!
How fhall I woo thee, matchless fair!
Thy fmile, that smooths the brow of Care,
O wilt thou to thy fav'rite grove
Thine ardent votary bring,
And bless his hours, and bid them move
Serene, on filent wing!
Oft let remembrance foothe his mind
With dreams of former days,
He fram'd his infant days;
Nor cold Diftruft alarm'd,
Nor Envy, with malignant glare,
"Twas then, O Solitude, to thee