All calm and fafe the tide of love appears,

The youthful poet's ever darling theme;

The venturous pilot there no quick fands fears, But launches boldly down the flattering ftream,

Till on his bark the warring furges break,

And

every billow feems to threaten fate:

The voice of Prudence then begins to speak,

But ah, the voice of Prudence speaks too late!

Is blifs fincere then no where to be found,

The vain creation of the Enthufiaft's mind? Or, if fhe deign to dwell on mortal ground, Where may we hope her fair abode to find?

The sweets of pleasure, and the pomp of power, In Luxury's enchanting femblance drefs'd,

She flights with deepeft fcorn; nor will refide.

But in the precincts of the virtuous breast.

E 3

The

The virtuous breast, in conscious honour bold,

Will want and pain and death itself despise : Will from each trying woe, like heated gold,

With greater fplendor, greater merit rife.

There she has ever fix'd her firmeft throne; There fcorn'd the bolts by rage and malice hurl'd; And, found by wifdom, and by worth alone,

Mock'd the vain labors of a vicious world.

ELEGY

EL EGY II.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1762.

OW the brown woods their leafy load refign

Now

And rage the tempefts with refiftlefs force? Mantled with fnow the filver mountains shine, And icy fetters chain the rivulet's course.

No pleafing object charms our wearied view,
No waving verdure decks the dreary glade,
Save that o'er yonder tomb the mournful yew
Projects an awful folitary fhade.

Short is the Spring, and short the Summer hour,

And short the time that fruitful Autumn reigns; But tedious roll the days when Winter's power

Afferts it's empire o'er our wafted plains.

As fwiftly wears our Spring of life away,

As fwiftly will our jolly Summer go;

But, ah! when Winter clouds our chearless day, Again the vernal breezes never blow!

Mark this, and boaft your fancied worth no more, Ye great, ye proud, ye learned, and ye brave! With hafty lapfe fome circling years are o'er,

And lo, ye flumber in the filent grave!

Why views the fage fair Pleasure's tranfient charm,
And all her votaries gay with fcowling eye?

Alike he ftoops to Fate's fuperior arm,—
Alike he suffers, and alike must die!

Say, what avails it then with brow fevere
The filken bands of Luxury to defpife;

To bring by thought the day of horror near,
And view the tempeft ere the clouds arife?

Better

Better with laughing nymphs in revels gay

To give the hours to VENUS, wine, and fong; And, fince the rapid moments never stay,

To catch fome pleasures as they glide along.

Deluded man! whom empty founds beguile,

What transports here await thy anxious foul? Know, love abhors the venal harlot's fmile,

And hell-born fury rages in the bowl.

Seek Virtue to be bleft; but feek her far,

Far from those gloomy fons of letter'd pride, Who 'gainst the paffions wage eternal war,

And, foes to Nature, Nature's dictates chide.

Let mirth, not madness, crown the temperate feaft;
Let love and beauty joys refin'd impart :

Though mere fenfation charm the groveling breast,

'Tis mutual paffion fires the generous heart.

The

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