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And oft as Virtue caught his wandering eye,
A crimson blush condemn'd the rising sigh.-
'Twas such the lingering Trojan's shame betray'd
When Maia's son the frown of Jove displayed;
When wealth, fame, empire, could no balance prove
For the soft reign of Dido and of love.—
Thus ill with arduous glory love conspires
Soft tender flames with bold impetuous fires!
Some hovering doubts his anxious bosom moved,
And Virtue, zealous fair! those doubts improved.
Fly, fly, fond youth! the too indulgent maid,
Nor err, by such fantastic scenes betray'd.
Though in my path the rugged thorn be seen,
And the dry turf disclose a fainter green;
Though no gay rose or flowery product shine,
The barren surface still conceals the mine.
Each thorn that threatens, e'en the weed that grows
In virtue's path, superior sweets bestows-
Yet should those boasted specious toys allure,
Whence could fond sloth the flattering gifts procure?
The various wealth that tempts thy fond desire,
'Tis I alone, her greatest foe, acquire.

I from old ocean rob the treasured store;
I through each region latent gems explore:
'Twas I the rugged brilliant first reveal'd,
By num'rous strata deep in earth conceal'd;
'Tis I the surface yet refine, and show
The modest gem's intrinsic charms to glow;
Nor swells the grape, nor spires its feeble tree,
Without the firm supports of industry.

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'But grant we Sloth the scene herself has drawn,

The mossy grotto and the flowery lawn;

Let Philomela tune th' harmonious gale,

And with each breeze eternal sweets exhale;
Let

gay Pomona slight the plains around,

And choose, for fairest fruits, the favour'd ground;
To bless the fertile vale should Virtue cease,
Nor mossy grots nor flowery lawns could please,
Nor gay Pomona's luscious gifts avail,
The sound harmonious, or the spicy gale.

"Seest thou yon rocks in dreadful pomp arise, Whose rugged cliffs deform the encircling skies? Those fields, whence Phoebus all the moisture drains, And, too profusely fond, disrobes the plains?

When I vouchsafe to tread the barren soil,
Those rocks seem lovely, and those deserts smile:
The form thou view'st to every scene with ease
Transfers its charms, and every scene can please.
When I have on those pathless wilds appear'd,
And the lone wanderer with my presence cheer'd,
Those cliffs the exile has with pleasure view'd,
And call'd that desert blissful solitude!

"Nor I alone to such extend my care,
Fair blooming health surveys her altars there,
Brown exercise will lead thee where she reigns,
And with reflected lustre gild the plains:
With her in flower of youth and beauty's pride,
Her offspring, calm content and peace, reside:
One ready offering suits each neighb'ring shrine,
And all obey their laws who practise mine.
"But health averse, from Sloth's smooth region flies,
And in her absence pleasure droops and dies;
Her bright companions, mirth, delight, repose,
Smile where she smiles, and sicken when she
A galaxy of powers! whose forms appear
For ever beauteous, and for ever near.

goes:

"Nor will soft sleep to Sloth's request incline, He from her couches flies unbid to mine.

"Vain is the sparkling bowl, the warbling strain,
The incentive song, the labour'd viand vain!
Where she, relentless, reigns without control,
And checks each gay excursion of the soul;
Unmoved, though beauty deck'd in all its charms,
Grace the rich couch, and spread the softest arms;
Till joyless indolence suggests desires,

Or drugs are sought to furnish languid fires;
Such languid fires as on the vitals prey,
Barren of bliss, but fertile of decay;

As artful heats, applied to thirsty lands,
Produce no flowers, and but debase the sands.

"But let fair health her cheering smiles impart !
How sweet is nature, how superfluous art!
'Tis she the fountain's ready draught commends,
And smooths the flinty couch which fortune lends;
And when my hero from his toils retires,
Fills his gay bosom with unusual fires;
And while no checks th' unbounded joy reprove,
Aids and refines the genuine sweets of love.

His fairest prospect rising trophies frame,
His sweetest music is the voice of fame;
Pleasures to Sloth unknown! she never found
How fair the prospect or how sweet the sound.

"See fame's gay structure from yon summit charms, And fires the manly breast to arts or arms:

Nor dread the steep ascent by which you rise

From grovelling vales to towers which reach the skies.
Love, fame, esteem, 'tis labour must acquire,
The smiling offspring of a rigid sire.

To fix the friend your service must be shown;
All ere they loved your merit loved their own;
That wondering Greece your portrait may admire,
That tuneful bards may string for you their lyre,
That books may praise, or coins record your name,
Such, such rewards 'tis toil alone can claim !
And the same column which displays to view
The conqueror's name, displays the conquest too.
""Twas slow experience, tedious mistress! taught
All that e'er nobly spoke or bravely fought:
'Twas she the patriot, she the bard, refined
In arts that serve, protect, or please, mankind.
Not the vain visions of inactive schools,

Not fancy's maxims, not opinion's rules,

E'er form'd the man whose generous warmth extends
To enrich his country or to serve his friends.
On active worth the laurel war bestows;
Peace rears her olive for industrious brows;
Nor earth, uncultur'd, yields its kind supplies,
Nor heaven its showers without a sacrifice.

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See, far below such grovelling scenes of shame
As lull to rest Ignavia's slumbering dame;
Her friends, from all the toils of fame secure,
Alas! inglorious, greater toils endure;
Doom'd all to mourn who in her cause engage,
A youth enervate, and a painful age;
A sickly sapless mass if reason flies,
And if she linger impotently wise!
A thoughtless train, who pamper'd, sleek,
Invite old age, and revel youth away;
From life's fresh vigour move the load of care,
And idly place it where they least can hear;
When to the mind, diseased, for aid they fly,
What kind reflection shall the mind supply?

and gay,

When with lost health, what should the loss allay,
Peace, peace is lost; a comfortless decay!

But to my friends, when youth, when pleasure, flies,
And earth's dim beauties fade before their eyes,
Through death's dark vista flowery tracks are seen,
Elysian plains, and groves for ever green:
If o'er their lives a refluent glance they cast,
Theirs is the present who can praise the past;
Life has its bliss for these when past its bloom,
As wither'd roses yield a late perfume.

"Serene, and safe from passion's stormy rage,
How calm they glide into the port of age!
Of the rude voyage less deprived than eased;
More tired than pain'd, and weaken'd than diseased:
For health on age 'tis temperance must bestow,
And peace from piety alone can flow;

And all the incense bounteous Jove requires

Has sweets from him who feeds the sacred fires.

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'Sloth views the towers of fame with envious eyes, Desirous still, still impotent to rise.

Oft, when resolved to gain those blissful towers,
The pensive queen the dire ascent explores,
Comes onward, wafted by the balmy trees,
Some silvan music, or some scented breeze;
She turns her head, her own gay realms she spies,
And all the short-lived resolution dies.

Thus some fond insect's faltering pinions wave,
Clasp'd in its favourite sweets, a lasting slave;
And thus in vain these charming visions please
The wretch of glory and the slave of ease,
Doom'd ever in ignoble state to pine,

Boast her own scenes, and languish after mine.
But shun her snares; nor let the world exclaim,
Thy birth, which was thy glory, proved thy shame.
With early hope thine infant actions fired,
Let manhood crown what infancy inspired;
Let generous toils reward with health thy days,
Prolong thy prime, and eternize thy praise.
The bold exploit that charms the attesting age,
To latest times shall generous hearts engage;
And with that myrtle shall thy shrine be crown'd,
With which alive thy graceful brows were bound,
Till time shall bid thy virtues freely bloom,
And raise a temple where it found a tomb.

Then in their feasts thy name shall Grecians join, Shall pour the sparkling juice to Jove's and thine: Thine, used in war, shall raise their native fire; Thine, used in peace, their mutual faith inspire. Dulness, perhaps, through want of sight, may blame, And spleen, with odious industry, defame; And that the honours given with wonder view, And this in secret sadness own them due. Contempt and envy were by fate design'd The rival tyrants which divide mankind; Contempt, which none but who deserve can bear, While envy's wounds the smiles of fame repair: For know, the generous thine exploits shall fire, Thine ev'ry friend it suits thee to require; Loved by the gods, and, till their seats I show, Loved by the good, their images below."

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Cease, lovely maid! fair daughter of the skies! My guide! my queen!" the ecstatic youth replies. "In thee I trace a form design'd for sway,

Which chiefs may court, and kings with pride obey;
And by thy bright immortal friends I swear,
Thy fair idea shall no toils impair.

Lead me, oh lead me! where whole hosts of foes
Thy form depreciate, and thy friends oppose.
Welcome all toils the unequal fates decree,
While toils endear thy faithful charge to thee.
Such be my cares to bind the oppressive hand,
And crush the fetters of an injured land;
To see the monster's noxious life resign'd,
And tyrants quell'd, the monsters of mankind!
Nature shall smile to view the vanquish'd brood,
And none, but envy, riot unsubdued.

In cloister'd state let selfish sages dwell,
Proud that their heart is narrow as their cell!
And boast their mazy labyrinth of rules,
Far less the friends of virtue than the fools;
Yet such in vain thy favouring smiles pretend,
For he is thine who proves his country's friend.
Thus when my life, well-spent, the good enjoy,
And the mean envious labour to destroy;
When, strongly lured by fame's contiguous shrine,
I yet devote my choicer vows to thine;
If all my toils thy promised favour claim,

O lead thy favourite through the gates of fame!"