HARLES, fon of Yorke, who on the mercy-feat
Of justice states the bounds of right and wrong;
Not like the vulgar law-bewilder'd throng,
Who in the maze of error, hope to meet
Truth, or hope rather to delude with lies
And airy phantoms, under truth's disguise.
Some wrapt in precedents, or points decreed,
Or lop or stretch the laws to forms precise :
Some, who the pedantry of rules despise,
Plain fense adopt, from legal fetters freed;
Sense without science, fleeting, unconfin'd,
Is empty guess, and shifts with
every wind.
But he, thy fire, with more difcerning toil,
Rang'd the wide field, fagacious to explore
Where lay difpers'd or hid the precious ore;
Then form'd into a whole the gather'd spoil,
Law, reafon, equity, which now unite,
Reflecting each on each a friendly light.
Bleft in a guide, a pattern fo compleat,
Tread, as thou do'ft, his footsteps; for not rude
Thy genius, not uncultur'd, unfubdu'd.
Yet there are intervals and seasons
To smooth the brow of thought; nor thou disdain
Fit hour of vacance with the Mufe's train,
Let meaner fpirits, cast in common mould,
Who feed on husks of learned lore, refuse
To hear the leffons of the warbling Muse;
Nor know that bards, the law-givers of old,
By foothing fong to moral truth beguil'd
Man, 'till then fierce, a lawless race, and wild.
What means the lyre, by which the fabled fage
Drew beafts to liften, and made rocks advance Around him as he play'd, in mystic dance ? What, but the Mufe? who soften'd human rage. Parent of concord, fhe prepar'd the plan
Of focial life, and man attun'd to man.'
She taught the spheres to move in fair array,
Each in their orbits heark'ning to her ftrain;
Elfe would they wander o'er th' etherial plain
Licentious, but that she directs their way:
She aw'd to temper, by her magic spell,
The warring elements, and powers of hell.
They err, who think the MUSES not ally'd
TO THEMIS; both are of celestial birth:
Both give peace, order, harmony to earth;
Both by one heav'nly fountain are supply'd;
And men and angels hymn, in general quire,
What law ordains, and what the NINE infpire.
From CELIA to CLOE.
By the Same.
Rural life enjoy, the town's your tafte,
In this we differ, twins in all the rest.
Yet when the dog-ftar brings diseases on,
And each fond mother trembles for her fon;
Now when the Mall's forlorn, the beaux and belles
All for retirement crowd to Tunbridge-Wells;
Say, will not CLOE for awhile withdraw
From dear Vaux-hall and charming Ranelagh?
Sure at this homely hut one may contrive
Awhile not only to exift, but live;
For not dull landscapes here my thoughts engrofs,
Woods, lawns, and rills, and grottoes green with mofs,
No, the fame appetite that courts infuse,
Haunts in retreat, and to the fhade pursues.
Here all my cares are to receive and pay
Vifits, my ftudies a romance or play.
And then to pass the live-long Sunday off,
Walks or a ride, nay church ferves well enough.
At church, one has a chance to fee cockades,
Lur'd thither in purfuit of country maids:
Or tall Hibernian fmit with fond defire
To wed the only daughter of a squire.
Cards have their turn, to kill a tedious hour,
If baulk'd of whift, piquette is in my pow'r;
For oft the captain, fresh from town, bestows
A friendly week upon his friend my spouse.
Then gayly glide the days on downy feet,
For fure the captain has prodigious wit;
OI could hear his fweet difcourfe for ever,
Of all that's done, and who and who's together.
Oft far and wide for new delights I range,
True fex, and conftant to the love of change.
Is there within ten miles a troop review'd,
An auction of old goods, an interlude
By strolling players, an horse-race, or a ball!
There to be seen I have an urgent call.
The labours of the plough are then forgot,
And THOMAS mounts the box in liv'ry coat.'
Scenes odd as thefe, if CLOE can endure,
(And yet these scenes are town in miniature)
Come, and reflect on Ranelagh with fcorn,
Content ev'n here, at least 'till routs return.
Herefore was man thus form'd with eye fublime,
With active joints, to traverse hill or plain,
But to contemplate nature in her prime,
Lord of this ample world, his fair domain ?
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