Who in his life, flatt'ring his senseless pride,
By being known to all the world beside,
Does not himself, when he is dying, know,
Nor what he is, nor whither he's to go.
To purchase Heaven has gold the power?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life can love be bought with gold?
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?
No-all that's worth a wish—a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought.
DR. JOHNSON.
When there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to shew, that he felt as a man, and a brother. "He wept aloud; and the Egyptians, and the house of Pharoah heard him!"
The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affecting situation, that were ever uttered;" I am Joseph; doth my father yet live?"-What could he, what ought he, in that impassioned moment to have said more? This is the voice of nature herself, speaking in her own language; and it penetrates the heart: no pomp of expression, no parade of kindness; but strong affection hastening to utter what is. strongly felt.
THE HOUR OF DEATH.
Where now is wealth, with all her golden mountains? Where is honour, with her proud trophies of renown? Where are all the vain pomps of a deluded world? Can they inspire such comfort, can they administer any support in this last extremity? Can they compose the affrighted thoughts? or buoy up the departing soul amidst all the pangs of dissolution? The followers of the Lamb seem pleased and triumphant, even at their last gasp. God's everlasting arms are underneath their fainting heads. His Spirit whispers peace and consolation to their consciences. In the strength of these heavenly succours, they quit the field, not captives, but conquerors, with hopes full of immortality.
INCITEMENT TO CHARITY.
Are these thy serious thoughts? turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shivering female lies.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty bless'd,
Has wept at tales of innocence distress'd;
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;
Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door she lays her head,
And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the
show'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly first, ambitious of the town,
She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. GOLDSMITH,
Canst thou, and honour'd with a Christian name,
Buy what is woman born, and feel no shame;
Trade in the blood of innocence, and plead
Expedience as a warrant for the deed?
So may the wolf, whom famine has made bold
To quit the forest, and invade the fold:
So may the ruffian; who, with ghostly glide,
Dagger in hand, steals close to your bed side;
Not he, but his emergence forc'd the door,
He found it inconvenient to be poor.
Has God then given its sweetness to the cane,
Unless his laws be trampled on-in vain?
Built a brave world, which cannot yet subsist,
Unless his right to rule it be dismissed?
THE UNCERTAINTY OF JUDGMENT.
Judge we by nature? habit can suffice,
Interest o'ercome, or policy take place:
By actions? those uncertainty divides;
By passions? these dissimulation hides:
Opinions? they still take a wider range:
Find, if you can, in what you cannot change :
Manners with fortunes, humours turn with
climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
РОРЕ.
Has God, thou fool! worked solely for thy good
Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
For him has kindly spread the flow'ry lawn:
Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?
Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat,
Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.
The bounding steed you pompously bestride,
Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.
Is thine alone, the seed that strews the plain?
The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.
Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer:
The hog that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.
Will Providence o'erlook the wasted good?
Temperance were no virtue if he would.
That pleasures, therefore, or what such we call,
Are hurtful, is a truth confess'd by all;
And some that seem to threaten virtue less,
Still hurtful in th' abuse or by th' excess,
Is man then only for his torment placed
The centre of delights he may not taste?
Like fabled Tantalus, condemned to hear
The precious stream still purling in his ear,
Lip deep in what he longs for, and yet cursed
With prohibition, and perpetual thirst?
No, wrangler-destitute of shame and sense,
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,
Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest,
And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
No pleasure? Are domestic comforts fled?
Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled?
Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame,
Good sense, good health, good conscience, and
good fame;
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 starved at your inhospitable door?
Or if yourself, too scantily supplied,
Need help, let honest industry provide.
Earn if you want: if you abound, impart :
These both are pleasures to the feeling heart.
No pleasure? has some sickly eastern waste
Sent in a wind to parch us at a blast?
Can British paradise no scenes afford
To please her sated and indifferent lord?
Are sweet philosophy's enjoyments run
Quite to the lees? And has religion none ?
Brutes capable would tell you 'tis a lie,
And judge you from the kennel to the sty.
Delights like these, ye sensual and profane,
Ye are bid, begg'd, besought to entertain;
Called to these crystal streams, do ye turn off,
Obscene to swill and swallow at the trough?
Envy the beast then, on whom heaven bestows
Your pleasures, with no curses in the close-
Pleasure admitted in undue degree
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free
COWPER
His knowledge, however uncommon, holds, in his character, but the second place; his virtue was yet more uncommon than his learning.
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