The ftatelman, skilled in projects dark and deep,
Might burn his ufelefs Machiavel, and sleep;
His budget often filled, yet always poor,
Might fwing at cafe behind his fludy door,
No longer prey upon our annual rents,
Or fcare the nation with its big contents:
Difbanded legions freely might depart,
And flaying man would ceafe to be an art.
No learned difputants would take the field,
Sure not to conquer, and sure not to yield;
Both fides deceived, if rightly understood,
Pelting each other for the public good.
Did charity prevail, the prefs would prove
A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love;
And I might spare myself the pains to fhow
What few can learn, and all fuppofe they know.
Thus have I fought to grace a ferious lay
With many a wild indeed but flowery spray,
In hopes to gain, what elfe I must have loft,
The attention pleasure has fo much engroffed.
But if unhappily deceived I dream,
And prove too weak for fo divine a theme,
Let Charity forgive me a mistake
That zeal, not vanity, has chanced to make,
And fpare the poet for his fubject's fake.
Nam
neque me tantum venientis sibilus austri,
Nec percussa juvant fluctû tam litora, nec quæ
Saxosas inter decurrunt flumina valles.
THOUGH nature weigh our talents, and difpenfe
To every man his modicum of fenfe,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteemed a gift and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture, and the fowing of the foil.
Words learned by rote a parrot may rehearse,'
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more diftinct from harmony divine,
The conftant creaking of a country fign.
As Alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unlettered boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Thofe feeds of science called his A & C
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witnefs its infignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to fport with and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Comprefs the fun into its folid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are falfe, or Algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few refpe&t or use thee as they ought!
But all fhall give account of every wrong,
Who dare difhonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or fell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the fpeech of fome,
Wrath stays him, or effe God would ftrike them dumb':
His wife forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure, and receive their due.
The heathen law-givers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Chriftian's praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every fatyr in his den.
Oh come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perifhed and its charming hue,
Thenceforth 'tis hateful, for it fmells of you.
Not even the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolefcence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or juft
For making fpeech the pamperer of luft;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
'Tis naufeous as the vapour of a vault.
So withered ftumps difgrace the fylvan fcene,
No longer fruitful, and no longer green;
The faplefs wood divefted of the bark,
Grows fungous, and takes fire at every spark.
Oaths terminate, as Paul obferves, all ftrife
Some men have furely then a peaceful life; ·
Whatever fubject occupy difcourse,
The feats of Veftris, or the naval force,
Affeveration bluftering in your face
Makes contradiction fuch an hopeless cafe:
In every tale they tell, or falfe or true,
Well known, or fuch as no man ever knew,
They fix attention, heedlefs of your pain,
With oaths like rivets forced into the brain;
And even when fober truth prevails throughout,
They fwear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt,
A Perfian, humble fervant of the fun,
Who though devout yet bigotry had none,
Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address,
With adjurations every word impress,
Suppofed the man a bifhop, or at least,
God's name fo much upon his lips, a priest;
Bowed at the clofe with all his graceful airs,
And begged an intereft in his frequent prayers.
Go, quit the rank to which ye ftood preferred,
Henceforth affociate in one common herd;
Religion, virtue, reafon, common fenfe,
Pronounce your human form a falfe pretence;
A mere difguife, in which a devil lurks,
Who yet betrays his fecret by his works.
Ye powers who rule the tongue, if such there are,
And make colloquial happiness your care,
Preferve me from the thing I dread and hate,
A duel in the form of a debate.
The clash of arguments and jar of words,
Worfe than the mortal brunt of rival fwords,
Decide no queftion with their tedious length,
For oppofition gives opinion strength,
Divert the champions prodigal of breath,
And put the peaceably-difpofed to death.
Oh thwart me not, fir Soph, at every turn,
Nor carp at every flaw you may discern
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