ODE on SOLITUDE'. APPY the man, whofe with and care acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread, Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease, Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown, Steal from the world, and not a stone 5 10 15 20 b This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old. The dying Chriftian to his SouL. O D E. I. VIT ITAL fpark of heav'nly flame! II. Hark! they whisper; Angels fay, III. O Death! where is thy Sting? 5 10 15 CONTENTS OF THE That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Ge- That most men are born with some Taste, but spoil d by falfe Education, ver. 19 to 25. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them, ver. 26 to 45- That we are to ftudy our own Tafte, and know the Limits Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87. |