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The first FEATS of a YOUNG EAGLE. (ROWE.)
So the Eagle,
That bears the thunder of our grandsire Jove,
With joy beholds his hardy youthful offspring
Forsake the nest, to try his tender pinions
In the wide untrack'd air, till bolder grown,
Now like a whirlwind on the shepherd's fold
He darts precipitate, and gripes the prey;
Or fixing on some dragon's scaly hide,
Eager of combat, and his future feast,
Bears him aloft, reluctant, and in vain
Wreathing his spiry tail.
The true END of EDUCATION.
AND therefore wer't thou bred to virtuous knowledge,
And wisdom early planted in thy soul,
That thou may'st know to rule thy fiery passions:
To bind their rage, and stay their headlong course;
To bear with accidents, and every change
Of various life; to struggle with adversity;
To wait the leisure of the righteous Gods,
Till they, in their own good appointed hour,
Shall bid thy better days come forth at once;
A long and shining train; till thou, well pleas'd,
Shalt bow, and bless thy fate, and say the Gods are just.
E'ER since reflection beam'd her light upon me,
You, Sir, have been my study. I have plac'd,
Before mine eyes, in ev'ry light of life,
The father and the king. What weight of duty
Lay on a son from such a parent sprung;
What virtuous toil to shine with his renown;
Has been my thought by day, my dream by night.
But first and eyer nearest to
Was this prime duty; so to frame my conduct
Tow'rd such a father, as, were I a father,
My soul would wish to meet with from a son.
And may reproach transmit my name abhorr'd
To latest time-if ever thought was mine
Unjust to filial reverence, filial love.
-IAVE I then no tears for thee, my father?
Can I forget thy cares, from helpless years
Thy tenderness for me? An eye still beam'd
With love? A brow that never knew a frown?
Nor a harsh word thy tongue? Shall I for these
Repay thy stooping venerab'e age
With shame, disquiet, anguish, and dishonour?
It must not be !-thou first of angels! Come
Sweet filial piety! and firm my breast!
Yes, let one daughter to her fate submit,
Be nobly wretched--but her father happy.-
BAD FORTUNE more easily borne than GOOD.
WITH such unshaken temper of the soul
To bear the swelling tide of prosp'rous fortune,
to deserve that fortune. In adversity
The mind grows tough by buffeting the tempest;
But in success dissolving, sinks to ease,
And loses all her firmness.
DESPAIR never to be INDulged.
THO' plung'd in ills, and exercis'd in care,
Yet never let the noble mind despair :
When prest by dangers, and beset with foes,
The Gods their timely succour interpose;
And when our virtue sinks, o'erwhelm'd with grief,
By unforeseen expedients bring relief.
A FRIEND to FREEDOM can never be a TRAITOR.
HE who contends for freedom,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his sovereign's foe;
No, 'tis the wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing slave, the traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that name; he is a worm
That eats out all the happiness of kingdoms.
DESCRIPTION of a HAG.
In a close lane, as I pursued my journey,
I spy'd a wither'd Hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself;
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red,
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seem'd wither'd,
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd
The tatter'd remnants of an old strip'd hanging,
Which serv'd to keep her carcase from the cold :
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsly patch'd
With different-colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow,
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness.
HAPPINESS the inseparable COMPANION of VIRTUE.
-To be good is to be happy; angels
Are happier than men, because they're better.
Guilt is the source of sorrow; 'tis the fiend,
Th' avenging fiend that follows us behind
With whips and stings: the bless'd know none of this,
But rest in everlasting peace of mind,
And find the height of all their Heav'n is Goodness.
HONOUR superior to JUSTICE.
HONOUR, my Lord, is much too proud to catch
At every slender twig of nice distinctions.
These for th' unfeeling vulgar may do well:
But those, whose souls are by the nicer rule.
Of virtuous delicacy only sway'd
Stand at another bar than that of laws.
In what Manner PRINCES ought to be TAUGHT.
LET truth and virtue be their earliest teachers.
Keep from their ear the syren-voice of flattery,
Keep from their eye the harlot-form of vice,
Who spread, in every court, their silken snares,
And charm but to betray. Betimes instruct them;
Superior rank demands superior worth;
Pre-eminence of valour, justice, mercy :
But chief, that, tho' exalted o'er mankind,
They are themselves but men-frail suffering dust;
From no one injury of human lot
Exempt; but fever'd by the same heat, chill'd
By the same cold, torn by the same disease,
That scorches, freezes, racks, and kills the beggar.
True END of ROYALTY.
O WITNESS, Heaven!
Whose eye the heart's profoundest depth explores,
That if not to perform my regal task;
To be the common father of my people,
Patron of honour, virtue, and religion;
If not to shelter useful worth, to guard
His well-earn'd portion from the sons of rapine,
And deal out justice with impartial hand;
If not to spread on all good men thy bounty,
The treasures trusted to me, not my own;
If not to raise anew our English name,
By peaceful arts, that grace the land they bless,
And generous war, to humble proud oppressors;
Yet more; if not to build the public weal
On that firm base, which can alone resist
Both time and chance, fair liberty and law;
If I for these great ends am not ordain'd-
May I ne'er poorly fill the throne of England.
The real Dury of a KING.
-'Tis true, I am a King :
Honour and glory too have been my aim:
But tho I dare face death, and all the dangers
Which furious war wears in its bloody front,
Yet could I chuse to fix my fame by peace,
By justice, and by mercy; and to raise
My trophies on the blessings of mankind:
Nor would I buy the empire of the world
With ruin of the people whom I sway,
Or forfeit of my honour.
CHARACTER of a good KING.
-YES, we have lost a father!
The greatest blessing Heaven bestows on mortals,
And seldom found amidst these wilds of time,
A good, a worthy king!-Hear me, my Tancred,
And I will tell thee, in a few plain words,
How he deserv'd that best, that glorious title.
'Tis nought complex, 'tis clear as truth and virtue.
He lov'd his people, deem'd them all his children;
The good exalted, and depress'd the bad:
He spurn'd the flattering crew, with scorn rejected
Their smooth advice, that only means themselves,
Their schemes to aggrandize him into baseness:
Well knowing that a people, in their rights
And industry protected; living safe
Beneath the sacred shelter of the laws;
Encourag'd in their genius, arts, and labours,
And happy each as he himself deserves;
Are ne er ungrateful. With unsparing hand
They will for him provide: their filial love
And confidence are his unfailing treasury,
And every honest man his faithful guard.
The GUILT of bad KINGS.
WHEN those whom Heav'n distinguishes o'er millions, And showers profusely power and splendour on them,