Howe'er the youth, with forward air,

Bows to the fage, and mounts the car:
The lash refounds, the courfers fpring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring;
And gath'ring crowds with eager eyes,
And fhouts, purfue him as he flies.
Triumphant to the goal return'd,
With nobler thirft his bofom burn'd;
And now along th' indented plain,
The felf-fame track he marks again,
Purfues with care the nice defign,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
Amazement seiz'd the circling crowd;
'The youths with emulation glow'd;
Ev'n bearded fages hail'd the boy,
And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy ;
For he, deep judging fage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field;
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flufh'd with hope, had caught his eye,

Alas! unhappy youth, he cry'd,

Expect no praise from me, (and figh'd)

With indignation I furvey

Such skill and judgment thrown away.
The time profufely fquander'd there,
On vulgar art's beneath thy care,
If well employ'd, at less expence,
Had taught thee honour, virtue, fenfe,
And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate,
Το govern men, and guide the state.

WHITEHEAD.

W

CHAP. XIV.

SIR BALAAM.

HERE London's column, pointing at the skies,

Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies;;
There dwelt a Citizen of fober fame,

A plain good man, and Balaam was his name;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth:

His word would pafs for more than he was worth..
One folid dish his week-day meal affords,

An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's :
Conftant at Church, and 'Change; his gains were fure,
His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor...
The devil was piqued fuch faintship to behold,
And long'd to tempt him, like good Jób of old :
But Satan now is wifer than of yore,

And tempts by making rich, not making poor.

Rous'd by the Prince of Air the whirlwinds sweep
The furge, and plunge his Father in the deep;
Then full against his Cornish lands they roar,
And two rich fhipwrecks blefs the lucky fhore.

Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks,
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes:
"Live like yourself," was foon my Lady's word;
And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board..
Afleep and naked as an Indian lay,

An honeft factor stole a gem away :

He pledg'd it to the night; the knight had wit,
So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit.
Some scruple rofe, but thus he eas'd his thought,
"I'll now give fix-pence where I gave a groat
"Where once I went to Church I'll now go twice-
"And am fo clear too of all other vice."

The

The Tempter faw his time; the work he ply'd;
Stocks and fubfcriptions pour on ev'ry fide,
'Till all the Dæmon makes his full defcent!
In one abundant show'r of Cent per Cent,
Sinks deep within him, and poffeffes whole,
Then dubs Director, and fecures his foul.

Behold Sir Balaam now a man of spirit,
Afcribes his gettings to his parts and merit;
What late he call'd a bleffing, now was wit,
And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit.
Things change their titles, as our manners turn:
His Compting-house employ'd the Sunday-morn:
Seldom at Church ('twas such a bufy life)
But duly fent his family and wife.

There (fo the Devil ordain'd) one Christmas-tide
My good old lady catch'd a cold and died.

A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight,
He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite:
Leaves the dull Cits, and joins (to please the fair)
The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air:
In Britain's Senate he a feat obtains,

And one more Penfioner St. Stephen gains.
My Lady falls to play; fo bad her chance,
He must repair it; takes a bribe from France;
The House impeach him; Coningsby harangues;
The Court forfake him, and Sir Balaam hangs.
Wife, fon, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown:
The Devil and the King divide the prize,
And fad Sir Balaam curfes God and dies.

POPE.

CHAP. XV.

EDWIN AND

FAR in the windings of a vale,

Faft by a fheltering wood,

EMMA.

The fafe retreat of health and peace,
A humble cottage stood.

There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair

Beneath her mother's eye,
Whose only with on earth was now
To fee her bleft, and die.

The fofteft blush that nature spreads,
Gave colour to her cheek;

Such orient colour fmiles thro' heav'n
When May's fweet mornings break.

Nor let the pride of great ones scorn
The charmers of the plains;

That fun which bids their diamond blaze,

To deck our lily deigns.

Long had the fir'd each youth with love,

Each maiden with despair;
And though by all a wonder own'd,
Yet knew not she was fair;

'Till EDWIN came, the pride of swains,

A foul that knew no art,

And from whofe eyes ferenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly too reveal'd;
For neither bofom lodg'd a wish
Which virtue keeps conceal'd

What

To work them harm, with wicked skill
Each darker art employ'd.

The father too, a fordid man,
Who love nor pity knew,
Was all unfeeling as the rock

From whence his riches grew.

Long had he seen their mutual flame,
And feen it long unmov'd;

Then with a father's frown at last

He fternly disapprov❜d.

In EDWIN's gentle heart a war
Of differing paffions ftrove;
His heart, which durft not disobey,
Yet could not ceafe to love.-

Deny'd her fight, he oft behind.

The spreading hawthorn crept,
To fnatch a glance, to mark the spot.
Where EMMA walk'd and wept.

Oft too in Stanemore's wintry waste,
Beneath the moonlight fhade,

In fighs to pour his foften'd foul, dreh

The midnight mourner ftray'd.

His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd

A deadly pale o'ercaft;

So fades the fresh rofe in its prime, belu

Before the northern blast.