But reafon heard, and nature well perus'd,
At once the dreaming mind is difabus'd.
If all we find poffeffing earth, sea, air,
Reflect his attributes who plac'd them there,
Fulfil the purpose, and appear defign'd
Proofs of the wisdom of th' all-seeing mind,
'Tis plain the creature, whom he chose t' inveft
With kingship and dominion o'er the reft,
Receiv'd his nobler nature, and was made
Fit for the pow'r in which he stands array'd,
That first or laft, hereafter if not here,
He too might make his author's wisdom clear,
Praise him on earth, or, obftinately dumb,
Suffer his juftice in a world to come.
This once believ'd, 'twere logic mifapplied
To prove a confequence by none denied,
That we are bound to caft the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heav'nly truth,
That, taught of God, they may indeed be wife,
Nor, ignorantly wand'ring, mifs the skies.
In early days the confcience has in most
A quickness, which in later life is loft:
Preferv'd from guilt by falutary fears,
Or, guilty, foon relenting into tears.
Too careless often, as our years proceed,
What friends we fort with, or what books we read,
Our parents yet exert a prudent care
To feed our infant minds with proper fare;
And wifely ftore the nurs'ry by degrees
With wholesome learning, yet acquir'd with ease.
Neatly fecur'd from being foil'd or torn
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn,
A book (to please us at a tender age
'Tis call'd a book, though but a fingle page)
Prefents the pray'r the Saviour deign'd to teach,
Which children use, and parfons-when they preach.
Lifping our fyllables, we fcramble next
Through moral narrative, or facred text;
And learn with wonder how this world began,
Who made, who marr'd, and who has ransom'd, man.
Points which, unless the fcripture made them plain,
The wifeft heads might agitate in vain.
O thou, whom, born on fancy's eager wing
Back to the feafon of life's happy spring,
I pleas'd remember, and, while mem'ry yet
Holds faft her office here, can ne'er forget;
Ingenious dreamer, in whofe well-told tale
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail;
Whofe hum'rous vein, ftrong fenfe, and fimple ftyle,
May teach the gayeft, make the gravest smile ;
Witty, and well employ'd, and, like thy Lord,
Speaking in parables his flighted word;
I name thee not, left fo defpis'd a name
Should move a fneer at thy deferved fame;
Yet ev❜n in tranfitory life's late day,
That mingles all my brown with fober gray,
Revere the man, whofe PILGRIM marks the road,
And guides the PROGRESS of the foul to God.
"Twere well with most, if books, that could engage
Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age;
The man, approving what had charm'd the boy,
Would die at aft in comfort, peace, and joy;
And not with curfes on his art, who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded foul,
The stamp of artless piety impress'd
By kind tuition on his yielding breast,
The youth now bearded, and yet pert and raw,
Regards with scorn, though once receiv'd with awe;
And, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies,
That babblers, call'd philofophers, devife,
Blafphemes his creed, as founded on a plan
Replete with dreams, unworthy of a man.
Touch but his nature in its ailing part,
Affert the native evil of his heart,
His pride refents the charge, although the proof
Rife in his forehead, and feem rank enough:
See 2 Chron, ch. xxvi. ver. 19.
Point to the cure, describe a Saviour's cross
As God's expedient to retrieve his lofs,
The young apoftate fickens at the view,
And hates it with the malice of a Jew.
How weak the barrier of mere nature proves,
Oppos'd against the pleasures nature loves!
While, felf-betray'd, and wilfully undone,
She longs to yield, no fooner woo'd than won.
Try now the merits of this bleft exchange
Of modeft truth for wit's eccentric range.
"Time was he clos'd, as he began, the day
With decent duty, not asham'd to pray:
The practice was a bond upon his heart,
A pledge he gave for a confiftent part;
Nor could he dare presumptuously displease
A pow'r, confefs'd fo lately on his knees.
But now farewell all legendary tales-
The fhadows fly, philofophy prevails'
Pray'r to the winds, and caution to the waves;
Religion makes the free by nature slaves!
Priests have invented, and the world admir'd
What knavish priests promulgate as infpir'd;
Till reafon, now no longer overaw'd,
Refumes her pow'rs, and fpurns the clumfy fraud;
And, common-sense diffusing real day,
The meteor of the gospel dies away!
Such rhapsodies our fhrewd difcerning youth
Learn from expert inquirers after truth;
Whofe only care, might truth presume to speak,
Is not to find what they profess to seek.
And thus, well-tutor'd only while we share
A mother's lectures and a nurse's care;
And taught at schools much mythologic stuff *,
But found religion fparingly enough;
Our early notices of truth, disgrac'd,
Soon lofe their credit, and are all effac'd.
Would you your son should be a fot or dunce,
Lafcivious, headstrong; or all these at once;
That, in good time, the ftripling's finish'd tafte
For loofe expense and fashionable wafte
Should prove your ruin and his own at last;
Train him in public with a mob of boys,
Childish in mifchief only and in noife,
The author begs leave to explain.-Senfible that, without fuch knowledge, neither the ancient poets nor hiftorians can be tasted, or indeed understood, he does not mean to cenfure the pains that are taken to inftruct a school-boy in the religion of the heathen, but merely that neglect of Chriftian culture which leaves him fhamefully ignorant of his own.
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