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A lady came. With borrow'd grace,
He from his Venus drew her face;
Her lover prais'd the painter's art,
So like the picture in his heart!
To every age some charm he lent;
E'en beauties were almost content.
Through all the town his art they prais'd,
His custom grew, his price was rais'd,
Had he the real likeness shown,

Would any man the picture own?
But when thus happily he wrought,
Each found the likeness in his thought.

VI.--Diversity of the Human Character. TIRTUOUS and vicious every man must be, the

The rogue and fool by fits, are fair and wise,
And e'en the best, by fits what they despise.
'Tis but by part we follow good or ill,

For, Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still:
Each individual seeks a several goal;
But Heaven's great view is one, and that the whole.
That counterworks each folly and caprice;
That disappoints th' effect of every vice;
That happy frailties to all ranks applied-
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride,
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief,
To kings presumption, and to crowds belief.
That Virtue's end from vanity can raise,
Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise;
And build on wants and on defects of mind,
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.

Heaven, forming each on other to depend,
A master, or a servant, or a friend,
Bids each on other for assistance call,
Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all.
Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally
The common int'rest or endear the tie.
To those we owe true friendship, love sincere,
Each homefelt joy that life inherits here;
Yet from the same, we learn, in its decline,
Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign,
Taught, half by reason, half by mere decay,
To welcome death and calmly pass away.

Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame or pelf,
Not one would change his neighbor with himself.
The learn'd is happy, nature to explore,
The fool is happy that he knows no more;
The rich is happy in the plenty given,
The poor contents him with the care of heaven:

See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
The sot a hero, lunatic a king;
The starving chymist in his golden views
Supremely blest, the poet in his muse.

See some strange comfort every state attend,
And pride, bestow'd on all, a common friend;
See some fit passion ev'ry age supply,
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by nature's kindly law,
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And cards and counters are the toys of age:
Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before,
Till tir'd he sleeps and life's poor play is o'er.

Meanwhile opinion gilds, with varying rays,
Those painted clouds that beautify our days;
Each want of happiness by hope supplied,
And each vacuity of sense by pride.
These build as fast as knowledge can destroy:
In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy:
One prospect lost, another still we gain,
And not a vanity is given in vain :
E'en mean self-love becomes, by force divine,
The scale to measure others' wants by thine.
See! and confess, one comfort still must rise;
'Tis this: Though man's a fool, yet God is wise.
VII. The Toilet.


ND now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd, Each silver vase in mystic order laid. First, rob'd in white, the nymph intent adores, With head uncover'd, the cosmetic powers. A heavenly image in the glass appears; To that she bends, to that her eye she rears. Th' inferior priestess, at the altar's side, Trembling, begins the sacred rites of pride. Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here The various offerings of the world appear; From each she nicely culls, with curious toil, And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. This casket India's glowing gem unlocks, And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise, here, and elephant unite, Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white; Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billetdoux. Now awful beauty puts on all its arms,* The fair, each moment, rises in her charms,

Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace,
And calls forth all the wonders of her face.

VIII.-The Hermit.

AR in a wild, unknown to public view,

are grew.

The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the chrystal well:
Remote froin man, with God he pass'd the days
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

A life so sacred, such serene repose,
Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose;
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
Thus sprung some doubt of Providence's sway,
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,
And all the tenor of his soul is lost.

So, when a smooth expanse receives, imprest
Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breast,.
Down bend the banks; the trees, depending grow;
And skies, beneath, with answ'ring colors glow:
But if a stone the gentle sea divide,
Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side;
And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun,
Banks, trees and skies in thick disorder run.

To clear this doubt; to know the world by sight;
To find if books or swains report it right;
(For yet by swains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew.)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim staff he bore,
And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;
Then, with the sun a rising journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.


The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, And long and loathsome was the wild to pass: But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, A youth came boasting o'er the crossing way His raiment decent, his complexion fair, And soft, in graceful ringlets, wav'd his hair. Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd; And hail! my son, the rev'read sire reply'd: Words follow'd words; from question answer flow'd;, And-talk of various kind deceiv'd the road;" Till, each with other pleas'd, and loth to part, While in their age they differ, join in heart. Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound; Thus youthfulivy clasps an elm around.

Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray; Nature, in silence, bid the world repose;

When, near the road, a stately palace rose:
There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass,
Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass.
It chanc'd the noble master of the dome

Still made his house the wand'ring stranger's home:
Yet still, the kindness, from a thirst of praise,
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease.
The pair arrive; the liv'ry'd servants wait,
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate;
A table groans with costly piles of food;
And all is more than hospitably good.
Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they drown,
Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.
At length 'tis morn; and at the dawn of day,
Along the wide canals the zephyrs play;
Fresh o'er the gay parterres, the breezes creep,
And shake the neighb'ring wood to banish sleep.
Up rise the guests obedient to the call;
An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall;
Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste.
Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go;
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe;
His cup was vanish'd; for in secret guise,
The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize.
As one who sees a serpent in his way,
Glist'ning and basking in the summer ray,
Disorder'd stops, to shun the danger near,
Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear;
So seem'd the sire, when, far upon the road,
The shiny spoil his wily partner show'd.
He stopt with silence, walk'd with trembling heart,
And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part :
Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard,
That gen'rous actions meet a base reward.

While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds,
The changing skies hang out their sable clouds;
A sound in air presag'd approaching rain,
And beasts to covert scud across the plain.
Warn'd by the signs, the wand'ring pair retreat,
To seek for shelter in a neighb'ring seat.
'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground;
And strong and large, and unimprov❜d around;
Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there.
As near the miser's heavy doors they drew,
Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew;
The nimble lightning, mix'd with showers, began,
And o'er their heads loud rolling thunder ran.
Here long they knook; but knock or call in vain,

Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain.
At length, some pity warm'd the master's breast;
('Twas then his threshhold first receiv'd a guest ;)
Slow creaking turns the door, with jealous care,
And half he welcomes in the shiv'ring pair.
One frugal faggot lights the naked walls,
And nature's fervor through their limbs recals;
Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine,
(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine;
And when the tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready warning bid them part in peace.
With still remark, the pond'ring hermit view'd,
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude:
And why should such (within himself he cry'd)
Lock the lost wealth, a thousand want besider?
But, what new marks of wonder soon took place,
In every settling feature of his face,

When, from his vest, the young companion bore
That cup, the gen'rous landlord owned before,
And paid profusely with the precious bowl,
The stinted kindness of his churlish soul!
But, now the clouds in airy tumult fly :
The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the smelling leaves display,
And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the day:
The weather courts them from the poor retreat;
And the glad master bolts the wary gate.

While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought
With all the travail of uncertain thought.
His partner's acts without their cause appear-
'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here.
Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes,
Lost and confounded with the various shows.

Now night's dim shades again involve the sky-
Again the wanderers want a place to lie-
Again they search, and find a lodging nigh—
The soil improv'd around-the mansion neat-
And neither poorly low, nor idly great :
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind--
Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind.
Hither the walkers turn with weary feet;
Then bless the mansion, and the master gicet;
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise,
The courteous master hears, and thus replies.

Without a vain, without a grudging heart,
To him who gives us all, I yield a part:
From him you come, from him accept it here-
A frank and sober, more than costly cheer.
He spoke; and bade the welcome table sprea! ;

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