Of Academus, is this falfe or true? Is Chrift the abler teacher, or the schools? If Chrift, then why refort at ev'ry turn To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short Grace, knowledge, comfort, an unfathom'd ftore? Men that, if now alive, would fit content And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth, Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too. And thus it is. The paftor, either vain Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn, And And loofe example, whom he fhould inftruct, The noblest function, and difcredits much The brightest truths that man has ever feen. Below the exigence, or be not back'd With fhow of love, at least with hopeful proof Or be dishonor'd in th' exterior form And mode of its conveyance, by fuch tricks The pulpit to the level of the ftage, The weak perhaps are moved, but are not taught, Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they fee. A relaxation of religion's hold Upon the roving and untutor'd heart Soon follows, and the curb of conscience snapt, The The laity run wild.-But do they now? As nations, ignorant of God, contrive Some fifty or an hundred luftrums herce, Of whom I needs muft augur better things, A monitor is wood. Plank fhaven thin. We wear it at our backs. There closely brac'd And neatly fitted, it compreffes hard The prominent and most unfightly bones, And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use A form A form not now gymnastic as of yore, From rickets and distortion, elfe, our lot. And by caprice as multiplied as his, Juft please us while the fashion is at full, But change with ev'ry moon. The fycophant Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date, This fits not nicely, that is ill conceiv'd, Variety's the very fpice of life, That gives it all its flavor. We have run And studious of mutation still, discard A real A real elegance, a little used, For monftrous novelty and strange difguife. We facrifice to dress, till houfhold joys And comforts cease. Drefs drains our cellar dry, And introduces hunger, froft, and woe, Where peace and hospitality might reign. What man that lives, and that knows how to live, A form as fplendid as the proudeft there, A man o' th' town dines late, but foon enough, T' infure a fide-box ftation at half price. He picks clean teeth, and, bufy as he feems That |