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'Tis harmony from yon sequesterd bow'r,
Sweet harmony, that soothes the midnight hour !
Long ere the charioteer of day had run
His morning course, th' enchantment was begun
And he shall gild yon mountain's height again,
Ere yet the pleasing toil becomes a pain.

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Is this the rugged path, the steep ascent,
"That Virtue points to ? Can a life thus spent
Lead to the bliss she promises the wise,
Detach the soul from earth, and speed her to the skies ?
Ye devotees to your ador'd employ,
Enthusiasts, drunk with an unreal joy,
Love makes the musick of the blest above,
Heav'n's harmony is universal love;
And earthly sounds, tho' sweet and well combin'd,
And lenient as soft opiates to the mind,

80 Leave Vice and Folly unsubdu'd behind.

Gray dawn appears ; the sportsman and his train
Speckle the bosom of the distant plain ;
'Tis he, the Nimrod of the neighb’ring lairs;
Save that his scent is less acute than theirs,

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For persevering chase, and headlong leaps,
True beagle as the stanchest hound he keeps.
Charg'd with the folly of his life's mad scene,
He takes offence, and wonders what you mean
The joy the danger and the toil o'erpays-

90 'Tis exercise, and health, and length of days. Again impetuous to the field he flies ; Leaps ev'ry fence, but one, there falls and dies ; Like a slain deer, the tumbrel brings him home, Unmiss'd but by his dogs and by his groom.

95 Yo clergy, while your orbit is your place, Lights of the world, and stars of human race ; But if eccentrick ye forsake your sphere, Prodigies ominous, and view'd with fear; The comet's baneful influence is a dream ; 100 Yours real and pernicious in th’ extreme. What then !-are appetites and lusts laid down With the same ease that man puts on his gown?

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Will Av'rice and Concupiscence give place,
Charm'd by the sounds Your Rev'rence, or Your
Grace ?

105
No. But his own engagement binds him fast;
Or, if it does not, brands him to the last,
What atheists call him—a designing knave,
A mere church-juggler, hypocrite, and slave.
Oh, laugh, or mourn with me the rueful jest, 110
A cassock'd huntsman, and a fiddling priest !
He from Italian songsters takes his cue :
Set Paul to musick, he shall quote him too.
He takes the field, the master of the pack
Cries—Well done, saint ! and claps him on the back. 115
Is this the path of sanctity ? Is this
To stand a way-mark in the road to bliss ?
Himself a wanderer from the narrow way,
His silly sheep what wonder if they stray ?
Go, cast your orders at your Bishop's feet, 120
Send your dishonour'd gown to Monmouth-street !
The sacred function in your hands is made.---
Sad sacrilege ! no function, but a trade!

Occiduus is a pastor of renown; When he has pray'd and preach'd the sabbath down, With wire and catgut he concludes the day, 126 Quav'ring and semiquav'ring care away. The full concerto swells upon your ear ; All elbows shake. Look in, and you would swear The Babylonian tyrant with a nod,

130 Had summond them to serve his golden god, So well that thought th' employment seems to suit, Psalt'ry and sackbut, dulcimer, and flute. O fie! 'tis evangelical and pure : Observe each face, how sober and demure : 135 Ecstasy sets her stamp on every mien ; Chins fall'n and not an eyeball to be seen. Still I insist, though musick heretofore Has charm'd me much, (not e'n Occiduus more,) Love, joy, and peace, make harmony more meet 140

For Sabbath ev'nings, and perhaps as sweet.

Will not the sickļiest sheep of ev'ry flock
Resort to this example as a rock;
There stand, and justify the foul abuse
Of sabbath hours with plausible excuse ?

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If apostolick gravity be free
To play the fool on Sundays, why not we?
If he the tinkling harpsichord regards
As inoffensive, what offence in cards ?
Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay,

150 Laymen have leave to dance, if parsons play.

Oh Italy L-Thy sabbaths will be soon
Our sabbaths, clos'd with mumm'ry and buffoon.
Preaching and pranks will share the motley scene,
Ours parcell'd out, as thine have ever been,

155
God's worship and the mountebank between.
What says the prophet? Let that day be blest
With holiness and consecrated rest.
Pastime and business both it should exclude,
And bar the door the moment they intrude ; 160
Nobly distinguish'd above all the six
By deeds, in which the world must never mix.
Hear him again. He calls it a delight,
A day of luxury observ'd aright,
When the glad soul is made Heav'ns welcome guest,
Sits banqueting, and God provides the feast. 166
But triflers are engag'd and cannot come;
Their answer to the call is-Not at home.

O the dear pleasures of the velvet plain, The painted tablets, dealt and dealt again!

170 Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die, The yawning chasm of indolence supply! Then to the dance, and make the sober moon Witness of joys that shun the sight of noon. Blame, cynick, if you can, quadrille or ball, 175 The snug close party, or the splendid hall, Where night, down-stooping from her ebon throne, Views constellations brighter aan her own.

Tis innocent, and harmless, and refin'd, "The balm of care, Elysium of the mind.

180
Innocent! Oh, if venerable Time
Slain at the foot of pleasure be no crime,
Then, with his silver beard and magick wand,
Let Comus rise archbishop of the land ;
Let him your rubrick and your feasts prescribe, 185
Grand metropolitan of all the tribe.

Of manners rough, and coarse athletick cast,
The rank debauch suits Clodio's filthy taste.
Rusillus, exquisitely form’d by rule,
Not of the moral, but the dancing school,

190
Wonders at Clodio's follies, in a tone
As tragical, as others at his own.
He cannot drink five bottles, bilk the score,
Then kill a constable, and drink five more :
But he can draw a pattern, make a tart,

195 And has the ladies' etiquette by heart. Go, fool; and, arm in arm with Clodio, plead Your cause before a bar you little dread: But know, the law, that bids the drunkard die, Is far too just to pass the trifler by.

200 Both baby featur'd, and of infant size, View'd from a distance, and with heedless eyes, Folly and Innocence are so alike, The diff'rence, though essential, fails to strike ; Yet Folly ever has a vacant stare,

205 A simp’ring count'nance, and a tritling air : But Innocence, sedate, serene, erect, Delights us, by engaging our respect. Man, Nature's guest by invitation sweet, Receives from her both appetite and treat; 210 But if he play the glutton, and exceed, His benefactress blushes at the deed; For Nature, nice, as lib'ral to dispense, Made nothing but a brute the slave of sense. Daniel ate pulse by choice--example rare ! 215 Heavera bless'd the youth, and made him fresh and fair, VOL. I.

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Gorgonius sits, abdominous and wan,
Like a fat squab upon a Chinese fan :
He snuffs far off the anticipated joy ;
Turtle and ven’son all his thoughts employ ; 220
Prepares for meals as jockies take a sweat,
Oh. nauseous !an emetick for a whet!
Will Providence o'erlook the wasted good ?
Temperance were no virtue if he could.

That pleasures, therefore, or what such we call, 225
Are hurtful, is a truth confess'd by all.
And some, that seem'd to threaten virtue less,
Still hurtful in th' abuse, or by the excess.

Is man then only for his torment plac'd The centre of delights he may not taste ?

230 Like fabled Tantalus condemind to hear The precious stream still purling in his ear, Lip deep in what he longs for, and yet curs’d With prohibition, and perpetual thirst ? No, wrangler,—destitute of shame and sense, 235 The precept, that enjoins him abstinence, Forbids him none but the licentious joy, Whose fruit, though fair, tempts only to destroy. Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid In every bosom where her nest is made,

240 Hatch'd by the beams of truth, derties him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast. No pleasure ? Are domestick comforts dead ? Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled ? 244 Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame, [fame? Good sense, good health, good conscience, and good All these belong to virtue, and all prove, That virtue has a title to your love. Have you no touch of pity, that the poor Stand starv'd at your inhospitable door?

250 Or if yourself, too scantily supplied, Need help, let honest industry provide. Earn, if you want; if you abound, impart ; Thesc both are pleasures to the feeling heart,

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