Wake you with her solemn strain,
And teach pleas'd echo to complain.

With you roses brighter bloom,
Sweeter every sweet perfume;
Purer every fountain flows,
Stronger every wilding grows.

Let those toil for gold who please, Or, for fame renounce their ease. What is fame? An empty bubble; Gold a shining, constant trouble. Let them for their country bleed! What was Sidney's, Raleigh's meed ? Man's not worth a moment's pain; Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain. Then let me, sequester'd fair, To your sibyl grot repair; On yon hanging cliff it stands, Scoop'd by nature's plastic hands, Bosom'd in the gloomy shade Of cypress not with age decad Where the owl still hooting sits, Where the bat incessant its; There in loftier strain I'll sing Whence the changing seasons spng; Tell how storms deform the skie Whence the waves subside and ie, Trace the comet's blazing tai!, Weigh the planets in a scale; Bend, great God, before thy shr; The bournless macrocosm's thine

Since in each scheme of life 1 fail❜ð,. And disappointment seems ental; Since all on earth I valued mos My guide, my stay, my friend ist; O Solitude, now give me rest, And hush the tempest in my but. O gently deign to guide my fee To your hermit-trodden seat; Where I may live at last my Where I at last may die na I spoke she turn'd her magi And thus she said, or seem'da

Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find
In shades, a med'cine for a troubled mind:
Wan grief will haunt you wheresoe'er you go,
Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlet flow.
There, pale inaction pines his life away;
And satiate mourns the quick return of day:
There, naked frenzy laughing wild pain,
h
Or bears the blade, or plunges in the main :
There, superstition broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're resolv'd to dwell,
And bid to social life a last farewell;
"Tis impious.-

God never made an independent man;
'Twould jar the concord of his general plan.
See every part of that stupendous whole,
"Whose body nature is, and God the soul;"
To one great end the general good conspire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire.
Should man through nature solitary roam,
His will his sovereign, every where his home,
What force would guard him from the lion's jaw!
What swiftness wing him from the panther's paw!
Or should fate lead him to some safer shore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar,
Where liberal nature all her charms bestows,
Suns shine, birds sing, flowers bloom, and water flows,
Fool, dost thou think he'd revel on the store,
Absolve the care of Heaven, nor ask for more ?
Tho' waters flow'd, show'rs bloom'd, and Phœbus shone,
He'd sigh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast
A sense of kindred, country, man, impress'd.

Though nature's works the ruling mind declare,

And well deserve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate'er misanthropy may say,)
Shines. beams in man with most unclouded ray.
What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole?
Hang o'er the sun, and with the planets roll?

What boots through space's furthest bourns to roam ?>
If thou, O man, a stranger art at home.
Then know thyself, the human mind survey;
The use, the pleasure, will the toil repay.

Nor study only, practise what you know; Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe. With Plato's oli wreath the bays entwine; Those who in sy, should in practice shine. Say, does the learned lord of Hagley's shade, Charm mayo much by mossy fountains laid, As when ager d he stems corruption's course, And shakes the senate with a Tully's force? When freedom gasp'd beneath a Caesar's feet, Then public virtue might to shades retreat : But where she breaths, the least may useful be, And freedom, Britain, still belongs to thee. Though man's ungrateful, or though fortune frown; Is the reward of worth a song, or crown ? Nor yet unrecompens'd are virtue's pains; Good Allen lives, and bounteous Brunswick reigns. On each condition disappointments wai, Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate. Nor dare repine, through early friendship seed; From love. the world, and all its cares he's freed. But know, adversity's the child of God

Whom heaven approves of most, must feel h rod.
When smooth old ocean, and each storm's asleep,
Then ignorance may plough the watery deep;
But when the demons of the tempest rave,
Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave.
Sidney, what good man envies not thy blow?
Who would not wish Anytus for a foe ?
Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate :
The good can never be unfortunate.
And be this maxim graven in thy mind;
The height of virtue is, to serve mankind.

But when old age has silver'd o'er thy head,
When memory fails and all thy vigour's fled,
Then may'st thou seek the stillness of retreat,
Then hear aloof the human tempest beat;
Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave,
Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave.

CRAINGER

* One of the accusers of Socrates.

FINIS.

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