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Like some lone Chartreux stands the good old Hall,
Silence without, and fasts within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound,
No noontide bell invites the country round:
Tenants with fighs the smoakless tow'rs survey,
And turns th’unwilling steeds another way:
Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er,
Curs'd the fav'd candle, and unop'ning door ;
While the gaunt mastiff growling at the gate, 195
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

Not so his Son, he mark'd this oversight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.
(For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
But what to follow, is a task indeed.)
Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise,
More go to ruin Fortunes, than to raise.
What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'Squire, and deep Divine !
Yet no mean motive this profusion draws, 205
His oxen perish in his country's cause;

200

"VARIATIONS.
VER. 200. Here I found two lines in the Poet's MS.

" Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise,

« More go to ruin fortunes than to raise. which, as they seemed to be necessary to do justice to the gene. ral Character going to be described, I advised him to insert in their place.

'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup, And Zeal for that great House which eats him up. The Woods recede around the naked feat, The sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet: 210 Next goes

his Wool-to clothe our valiant bands, Laft, for his Country's love, he sells his Lands. To town he comes, completes the nation's hope, And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a Pope. And shall not Britain now reward his toils,

215 Britain, that pays her Patriots with her Spoils ? In vain at Court the Bankrupt pleads his cause, His thankless Country leaves him to her Laws.

The Sense to value Riches, with the Art T' enjoy them, and the Virtue to impart, Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursu'd, Not sunk by sloth, nor rais'd by fervitude ; To balance Fortune by a just expence, Join with Economy, Magnificence; With Splendor, Charity; with Plenty, Health; 225 Oh teach us, BATHURST! yet unspoil'd by wealth!

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VARIATIONS.
After x 218. in the MS.

Where one lean herring furnishid Cotta's board,
And nettles grew, fit porridge for their Lord ;
Where mad good-nature, bounty misapply'd,
In lavish Curio blaz'd awhile and dy'd;
There Providence once more shall lift the scene,
And shewing H-Y, teach the golden mean.

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That secret rare, between th' extremes to move
Of mad Good-nature, and of mean Self. love.
B. To Worth or Want well-weigh'd, be Bounty

giv'n,
And ease, or emulate, the care of Heav'n;

230
(Whofe measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace.
Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus'd;
As poison heals, in just proportion us’d:
In heaps, like Ambergrise, a stink it lies, 235
But well-dispers’d, is Incense to the Skies.

P. Who starves by Nobles, or with Nobles eats ?
The Wretch that trusts them, and the Rogue that

cheats.
Is there a Lord, who knows a chearful noon
Without a Fiddler, Flatt'rer, or Buffoon? 240
Whose table, Wit, or modest Merit share,
Un-elbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or Play'r?
Who copies Your's, or Oxford's better part,
To ease the oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart?

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VER. 243. Oxford's better part,] Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford. The son of Robert, created Earl of Oxford, and Earl

VARIATION S.
After 3 226. in the MS.

That secret rare, with affluence hardly join'd,
Which W-n loft, yet B-y ne'er could find ;
Still miss’a by Vice, and scarce by Virtue hit,
By G's goodness, or by S's wit.

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Where-e'er he shines, oh Fortune, gild the scene,
And Angels guard him in the golden Mean! 246
There, English Bounty yet a-while may stand,
And honour linger ere it leaves the land.

But all our praises why should Lords engross?
Rise, honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross: 250
Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro' her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow;
Not to the skies in useless columns toft,

255 Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain Health to the fick, and solace to the swain ?

Mortimer by Queen Anne. This nobleman died regretted by all men of letters, great numbers of whom had experienced his benefits. He left behind him one of the most noble Libraries in Europe.

VER. 250. The Man of Ross :] The person here celebrated, who with a small Estate actually performed all these good works, and whose true name was almost loft (partly by the title of the Man of Ross given him by way of eminence, and partly by being buried without so much as an inscription) was called Mr. John Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 9c, and lies interred in the chancel of the church of Ross in Herefordshire,

VARIATIONS.

After x 250. in the MS.

Trace humble worth beyond Sabrina's shore,
Who sings not him, oh may be sing no more!

Whose Cause-way parts the vale with fhady rows ?
Whose Seats the weary Traveller repose ? 260
Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rise ?
“ The Man of Ross,” each lisping babe replies.
Behold the Market-place with poor o'erspread!
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread :
He feeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want fit smiling at the gate: 266
Him portion's maids, apprentic'd orphans bleft,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is

any sick ? the Man of Ross relieves, Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives, Is there a variance; enter but his door,

271 Balk'd are the Courts, and contest is no more, Despairing Quacks with curses fled the place, And vile Attorneys, now an useless race.

B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue 275 What all so wish, but want the pow'r to do! Oh say, what sums that gen'rous hand supply? What mines to swell that boundless charity ?

P. Of Debts, and Taxes, Wife and Children clear, This man poffeft---five hundred pounds a year. 280 Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw

your

blaze! Ye little Stars! hide

your
diminish'd

rays.

VER. 281. Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud Courts, withdraw your blaze ! etc.] In this sublime apostrophe, they are not bid to blush because outstript in virtue, for no such contention is

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