Nor say, as once you said in serious mood,

That those were foolish freaks of youthful blood;
That, as to sports, you never now go near 'em,
And only mind quod decens atque verum.

We know who puts of gravity the shame on,
Who fights the twelfth of April at backgammon :
We see your feats (what cannot poets see!)

for news and tea;

When your friends come, agog
When patriot zeal your gammon-board unlocks,
Fleets sail o'er points, and Rodney rules in box;
While you from right to left victorious pass,
Pelting, with ivory thunder, poor De Grasse.-
And feats like these offend nor bench nor throne;

G-
Great G-

—would applaud a game so like his own;
whose eyes both sea and land inspect,

The guilty to chastise, the good protect;
As times demand, to risque, or to beware,
Now rapid force employ, now cautious care,
And, as adventurous Commerce prompts the oar,
Waft a world's treasure to Britannia's shore.

Next I explain (forgive that I presume)
How you must talk of others, and to whom.
Avoid the gabbling fool who gapes
for news;
A vessel wide to take is wide to lose;

The pert inquirer asks, that he may prate,
And words once utter'd are recall'd too late.

Before you praise, explore with anxious view;
Another's fault may bring disgrace to you.
Oft by mistake th' unworthy we commend;
Him, who discredits you, no more defend:
But, if meek Worth repose upon your care,
In his defence no pains, no interest spare ;
And him, whom Obloquy with rankling tooth
Gnaws, vindicate; nor fear t' avow the truth.
Here, did no nobler thoughts your bosom warm,
Even your own danger might your courage arm.
When Virtue Envy's venom'd shafts pursue,
Haply a random bolt may glance on you.
A neighbour's wall on fire attention claims,
And broad and broader blaze neglected flames.
When My Lord Leerwell's flattery sooths their ear,
Triumphi the young and raw, th' experienced fear.
While your gay galley, with a flowing sail,
Dances before a fair but fickle gale,

Prepare, lest contrary a tempest roar,

Raise the rough surge, and dash you back on shore.
The lively hate the dull; the grave, the glad;
Th' alert, the slow; the jocular the sad ;

And midnight bellowers hoot him for an ass,
Who guzzles not a bumper in each glass,
Although he says and swear, that he could never
Drink half a pint of claret without fever.

No care your brow contract, no cloud defile; Smooth it, and light it up into a smile; There are who think the modest man, a log; And him who will not tattle, a shy dog : (Perhaps example, more than words, may show it, So look, not to the poem, but the poet.*) Ask of the wise, and learn, how down the tide Of life you gently may, and safely glide : How of each vain and irksome wish be clear; Each hope fantastick, and unmanly fear.

Oft ponder moral themes; and thus inquire: Virtue-does learning form, or heaven inspire? What to alleviate human care may tend? Conscience how shall I make and keep my friend? Where hope to find tranquillity serene

In the tumultuous, or the quiet scene?

Where myriads for renown and riches jar,

Or in th' unseen and silent vale afar?

Where winds the might of Dee's majestick stream, Brightening the dusky wild with watery gleam; The imitator rallies his own taciturnity.

When I, at leisure, on the murmuring brink,
Have sat me solitary down-to think,

Would you know what sets my fond heart on fire,
What wealth, power, honours, pleasure, I desire ?—
May heaven still lend the little I possess,
Or, if too much that little, give me less ;
And, should a longer life my comforts crown,
Give liberty, to make that life my own;

Of books, a large; of viands, frugal store,
But fix'd, not trembling on the dubious hour.
May He, whose will th' immense of nature sways,
Grant me, of health and of protracted days,

What he deems meet. And O, to this be join'd,
Good Heaven, that best of blessings, Peace of mind.

January 1787.

DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD.

I.

ADDISON, JOHNSON.

ADDISON.

I AM happy in this opportunity of expressing my thankfulness for a work, which makes every friend of learning greatly indebted to you; as it gives additional strength and perspicuity to the best language now spoken upon earth.

JOHNSON.

No, Sir; if any thanks are to be bestowed on this occasion, it is my business to bestow them. Additional strength that cannot receive, which is not already strong; and more perspicuous that cannot be rendered, which is not already clear. The student may inquire, and the dictionary may retain: but, without the previous efforts of the author, in smoothing the rugged paths of grammatical literature, vain were the