years

As fatal time, as ftorm! the rush of
Beats down their ftrength; their numberlefs efcapes
In ruin end; and, now, their proud success
But plants new terror on the victor's brow:
What pain to quit the world juft made their own,
Their neft fo deeply down'd, and built so high!
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.
Woe then apart, (if woe apart can be
From mortal man), and fortune at our nod;
The gay rich! great! triumphant ! and auguft!
What are they!-The most happy (ftrange to fay !)
Convince me most of human mifery:

፡፡

What are they Smiling wretches of to-morrow!
More wretched, then, than e'er their flave can be
Their treach'rous bleffings, at the day of need,
Like other faithlefs friends, unmask, and fting;
Then, what provoking indigence in wealth!
What aggravated impotence in pow'r !
High titles, then, what infult of their pain !
If that fole anchor, equal to the waves,
Immortal hope! defies not the rude ftorm,
Takes comfort from the foaming billow's rage,
And makes a welcome harbour of the tomb.

Is this a sketch of what thy foul admires ?
"But here (thou sayst) the miseries of life
"Are huddled in a group. A more diftin&t
"Survey, perhaps, might bring thee better news."
Look on life's ftages: They speak plainer ftili;
The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou figh.
Look on thy lovely boy; in him behold
The beft that can befal the beft on earth;
The boy has virtue by his mother's fide :
Yes, on FLORELLO look; A father's heart
Is tender, though the man's is made of stone;
The truth, through such a medium feen, may make
Impreffion deep, and fondness prove thy friend.
FLORELLO lately caft on this rude coaft,

A helpless infant; now a heedlefs child;

Το

poor CLARISSA's throes, thy care fucceeds: Care full of love, and yet severe as hate!

O'er thy foul s joy how oft thy fondness frowns!
Needful aufterities his will restrain;

As thorns fence in the tender plant from harm.
As yet, his reafon cannot go alone;

But afks a fterner nurse to lead it on.
His little heart is often terrify'd;

The blush of morning, in his cheek, turns pale;
Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye;
His harmless eye! and drowns an angel there.
Ah ! what avails his innocence? the task
Enjoin'd, muft difcipline his early pow'rs;
He learns to figh, ere he is known to fin;
Guiltlefs, and fad! a wretch before the fall!
How cruel this! more cruel to forbear.
Our nature fuch, with neceffary pains
We purchase profpects of precarious peace.
Though not a father, this might steal a figh.
Suppofe him difciplin'd aright, (if not,
"Twill fink our poor account to poorer ftill):
Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty,
He leaps inclofure, bounds into the world;
The world is taken, after ten years toil,
Like ancient TROY, and all its joys his own,
Alas! the world's a tutor more severe;
It leffons hard, and ill deferves his pains;
Unteaching all his virtuous nature taught,
Or books (fair Virtue's advocates!) infpir'd.
For who receives him into public life?
Men of the world, the terræ-filial breed,
Welcome the modelt ftranger to their sphere,
(Which glitter'd long, at diftance, in his fight),
And, in their hofpitable arms, inclose:

Men, who think nought fo ftrong of the romance,
So rank night-errant, as a real friend ;
Men, that act up to reafon's golden rule,
All weakness of affection quite fubdu❜d:
Men that would blush at being thought fincere,
And feign for glory, the few faults they want;
That love a lie, where truth would pay as well;
As if to them, Vice fhown her own reward.

LORENZO ! canft thou bear a fhocking fight? Such, for FLORELLO's fake, 'twill now appear: See the fteel'd files of seafon'd veterans,

Train'd to the world, in burnish'd falsehood bright;
Deep in the fatal ftratagems of peace;

All foft fenfation, in the throng, rubb'd off;
All their keen purpose, in politeness sheath'd;
His friends eternal- during interest ;

His foes implacable-when worth their while ;
At war with every welfare, but their own;
As wife as LUCIFER, and half as good;
And by whom none, but LUCIFER, can gain-
Naked, through thefe (fo common fate ordains)
Naked of heart, his cruel course he runs,
Stung out of all most amiable in life,

Prompt truth, and open thought, and fmiles un-
Affection, as his fpecies, wide-diffus'd:

Noble prefumptions to mankind's renown;
Ingenuous truft, and confidence of love.

[feign'd;

Thefe claims to joy (if mortals joy might claim) Will coft him many a figh; till time and pains, From the flow miftrefs of this fchool, Experience, And her affiftant, paufing, pale, Difruft, Purchase a dear-bought clue to lead his youth Through ferpentine obliquities of life, And the dark labrinth of human hearts. And happy! if the clue fhall come fo cheap ; For, while we learn to fence with public guilt,. Full oft we feel its foul contagion too, If lefs than heav'nly Virtue is our guard. Thus, a ftrange kind of curft neceflity Brings down the fterling temper of his foul, By base alloy, to bear the current stamp, Below call'd wifdom; finks him into fafety, And brands him into credit with the world; Where fpecious titles dignify disgrace, And Nature's injuries are arts of life;

Where brighter Reason prompts to bolder crimes;

And heav'nly talents make infernal hearts;
That unfurmountable extreme of guilt!

Poor MACHIAVEL! who labour'd hard his plan, Forgot that genius need not go to school; Forgot, that man, without a tutor wife, His plan had practis'd long before 'twas writ. The world's all title -page, there's no contents; The world's all face; the man who fhews his heart Is hooted for his nudities, and fcorn'd.

A man I knew who liv'd upon a smile;

And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair.
Whilft rankeft venom foam'd through ev'ry vein.
LORENZO! what I tell thee take not ill:
Living, he fawn'd on ev'ry foul alive;
And dying, curs'd the friend on whom he liv'd.
To fuch proficients thou art half a faint.
In foreign realms (for thou haft travell❜d far)
How curious to contemplate two state-rooks,
Studious their nefts to feather in a trice;
With all the necromantics of their art,
Playing the game of faces on each other;
Making court fweet-meats of their latent gall,
In foolish hope to fteal cach other's truft ;
Both cheating, both ex ulting, both deceiv'd;
And, fometimes, both (let earth rejoice) undone !
Their parts we doubt not; but be that their fhame ;
Shall men of talents, fit to rule mankind,

Stoop to mean wiles, that would difgrace a fool,
And lofe the thanks of thofe few friends they serve?
For who can thank the man he cannot fee?

Why fo muft cover? It defeats itself.

Ye that know all things! know ye not, men's hearts
Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd
For why conceal'd?—The cause they need not tell.
I give him joy, that's awkward at a lie;
Whofe feeble nature Truth keeps ftill in awe :
His incapacity is his renown.

'Tis great, 'tis manly, to difdain disguise;
It fhews our fpirit, or it proves our strength.
Thou fay'ft, 'Tis needful: It is therefore right?
Q3

Howe'er, I grant it fome fmall fign of
grace,
To ftrain at an excufe. And would't thou then
Escape that cruel need? Thou may'ft, with cafe:
Think no poft needful that demands a knave.
When late our civil helm was shifting hands,
So P- thought; think better, if you can.
But this, how rare! The public path of life
Is dirty: Yet, allow that dirt its due,
It makes the noble mind more noble still:
The world's not neuter, it will wound, or fave;
Our virtue quench, or indignation fire.

You fay, The world, well known, will make a man :—
The world, well known, will give our hearts to
Or make us damons, long before we die. [Heav'n,
To fhow how fair the world, thy miftrefs, fhines,
Take either part, fure ills attend the choice;
Sure, though not equal, detriment enfues.
Not Virtue's felf is deify'd on earth:
Virtue has her relapfes, conflicts, foes;

Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate.
Virtue has her peculiar fet of pains.

True friends to virtue, laft, and leaft, complain:
But if they figh can others hope to fmile?
If Wisdom has her miferies to mourn,
How can poor Folly lead a happy life?
And if both fuffer, what has earth to boast,
Where he most happy, who the leaft laments;
Where much, much patience, the most envy'd state,
And fome forgivenefs, needs the best of friends?
For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher,
Of neither fhall we find a fhadow here.

The world's fworn advocate, without a fee,
LORENZO fmartly, with a fmile, replies:
"Thus far my fong is right; and all muft own,
"Virtue has her peculiar fet of pains.---
"And joys peculiar, who to Vice denies?
"If vice it is, with nature to comply;
"If pride and fenfe are fo predominent,
To check, not overcome them, makes a faint,