Howe hath an ample orb of foul, Where fhining worlds of knowledge roll, The DISAPPOINTMENT and RELIEF. VIRTUE, permit my fancy to impose Upon my better powers: She cafts fweet fallacies on half our woes, How could we bear this tedious round Of flaming hopes, and chilling fears, Love, the moft cordial fream that flows, Is a deceitful good: Young Doris, who nor guilt nor danger knows, On the green margin stood, Pleas'd with the golden bubbles as they rofe, And tempted by a faithlefs youth, And rears the nether mud: Darkness Darkness and naufeous dregs arife O'er thy fair current, love, with large fupplies Of pain to teaze the heart, and forrow for the eyes. The golden blifs that charm'd her fight Is dafh'd, and drown'd, and loft: Recover'd from the fad furprize, Grown by the difappointment wife; On her haughty tyrant's brow, The Hero's School of Morality. THERON, amongst his travels, found, And fearching onward as he went Mould, mofs, and fhades, had overgrown "Enough, he cry'd; I'll drudge no more "In turning the dull Stoics o'er; "Let pedants wafte their hours of eafe "To fweat all night at Socrates; "And feed their boys with notes and rules, "With greater eafe the great concern "Methinks a mouldering pyramid "The duft of heroes caft abroad, And kick'd, and trampled in the road, << The relicks of a lofty mind, That lately wars and crowns defign'd, «Toft for a jeft from wind to wind, "Bid me be humble, and forbear "Tall monuments of fame to rear, "They are but caftles in the air. "The towering heights, and frightful falls, "The ruin'd heaps, and funerals, "Of fmoaking kingdoms and their kings, “Tell me a thousand mournful things "In melancholy filence. "That living could not bear to fee "An equal, now lies torn and dead; -He "Here his pale trunk, and there his head; "Great Pompey! while I meditate, "With folemn horror, thy fad fate, "Thy carcafe, fcatter'd on the fhore "Without a name, inftructs me more "Than my whole library before. "Lie ftill, my Plutarch, then, and fleep, "And my good Seneca may keep "Your volumes clos'd for ever too, "I have no further ufe for you: "For when I feel my virtue fail, "And my ambitious thoughts prevail, “I'll take a turn among the tombs, "And fee whereto all glory comes: 0 4 } "There "There the vile foot of every clown "Tramples the fons of honour down. Beggars with awful ashes sport, "And tread the Cæfars in the dirt." TEM FREE DO M. 1697. EMPT me no more. My foul can ne'er-comport I've an averfion to thofe charms, And hug dear liberty in both mine arms. Then run in troops before him to compofe his ftate; Bend when he fpeaks; and kifs the ground: Wait till he fmiles: But lo, the idol frown'd Thus bafe-born minds: but as for Me, Like a ftrong mountain, or fome stately tree, My foul grows firm upright, And as I ftand, and as I go, It keeps my body fo; No, I can never part with my creation-right. Let flaves and affes ftoop and bow, 5 I can |