What joy for tutor❜d Piety to learn, All that my Christian folitude can teach, Where weak-ey'd Reason's self may well discern Each clearer truth the Gospel deigns to preach? No object here but may convince the mind Of more than thoughtful Honefty shall need; Nor can Sufpenfe long question here to find Sufficient evidence to fix it's creed. 'Tis God that gives this bower it's awful gloom; He breathes the life of fragrance on it's bloom; Oh! may the guidance of thy grace attend Incline and aid me ftill my life to steer, As Confcience dictates what to fhun or chufe; Then shall not Wealth's parade one wish excite, What tho' thy wifdom may my lot deny, And fure the heart that wills the gèn❜rous deed, May all the joys of Charity command; For the best loves from notice to recede, Then will I fometimes bid my fancy fteal So fhall I gain the gold without alloy, Without oppreffion, toil, or treach❜rous fnares; And spite of all that boastful wealth can do, In vain would Fortune ftrive the rich to bless, Were they not flatter'd with some distant view, Of what she ne'er can give them to poffefs. E'en Wisdom's high conceit great wants would feel, But tho' Experience will not fail to fhow, Yet fhould not Prudence her light wing command, From From Truth's abode, in fearch of kind Deceit, Within due limits fhe may fafely roam; But, thanks to those whofe fond parental care Each calm delight that soothes the studious mind! While genius lafts, his fame fhall ne'er decay, To him I owe each fair inftructive page, Where Science tells me what her fons have known; Collects their choiceft works from ev'ry age, And makes me wife with knowledge not my own. Books, rightly us'd, may ev'ry state secure: The foe malignant, and the faithlefs friend. Should rigid Want withdraw all outward aid, Kind ftores of inward comfort they can bring; Should keen Disease life's tainted ftream invade, Sweet to the foul from them pure health may spring. Should both at once man's weakly frame infest, 'Gainst all events prepare his patient breast, For tho' no words can Time or Fate restrain, No founds fupprefs the call of Nature's voice; Tho' neither rhymes, nor fpells, can conquer pain, Nor magick's felf make wretchedness our choice: Yet Reafon, while it forms the fubtle plan, Muft deem each fruitlefs toil, by Heav'n defign'd Amidst this cool, tranflucent rill, That trickles down the glade, Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill, And revel in the fhade. No school-boy rude, to mischief prone, E'er fhews his ruddy face; Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone, Hither the vocal thrush repairs, The goldfinch dreads no flimy fnares, Sad Philomel! ah, quit thy haunt, Let not the harmless red-breast fear, And seek a fure asylum here, With one that loves his home. My trees for you, ye artless tribe, O let me thus your friendship bribe! For you these cherries I protect, Sweet is the fruit that you have pick'd, But fweeter far your fong. Warley woods. Let |