But if a little exercise you choose,
Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here.
Amid the groves you may indulge the muse;
Or tend the blooms, and deck the vernal year;
Or softly stealing, with your watery gear,
Along the brooks, the crimson-spotted fry
You may delude: the whilst amus'd you hear
Now the hoarse stream, and now the zephyr's
sigh,
Attuned to the birds and woodland melody.
O grievous folly! to heap up estate,
Losing the days you see beneath the sun;
When, sudden, comes blind unrelenting fate,
And gives the untasted portion you have won
With ruthless toil, and many a wretch undone,
To those who mock you gone to Pluto's reign,
There with sad ghosts to pine, and shadows dun;
But sure it is of vanities most vain,
To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain.
THOMSON.
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow was to-day,
We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition clear'd,
Say, where full Instinct is th' unerring guide,
What pope or council can they need beside ?
Reason, however able, cool at best,
Cares not for service, or but serves when prest;
Stays till we call, and then not often near;
But honest Instinct comes a volunteer,
Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit ;
While still too wide or short is human Wit.
And Reason raise o'er Instinct as you can,
In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man.
If his chief good, and market of his time,
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more.
Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before, and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom,
And, ever, three parts coward-I do not know
Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do.
ITALY. (Character of)
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows,
And sensual bliss, is all the nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign:
Tho' poor, luxurious; tho' submissive, vain;
Tho' grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And e'en in pennance planning sins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind.-
Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd,
The pasteboard triumph, and the cavalcade ;
Processions form'd for piety and love,
A mistress or a saint in ev'ry grove.
By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The sports of children satisfy the child :
Each nobler aim, repress'd by long control,
Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul;
While low delights, succeeding fast behind,
In happier meanness occupy the mind:
As in those domes where Cæsars once bore sway,
Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,
The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed;
And, wondering man could want the larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
ITALIAN SUMMER EVE.
The moon is up, and yet it is not night ;-
Sunset divides the sky with her ;—a sea
Of glory streams along the Alpine height
Of blue Friuli's mountains: heaven is free
From clouds, but of all colours seems to be
Melted to one vast Iris of the west,
Where the day joins the past eternity;
While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
Floats through the azure air-an island of the blest!
A single star is at her side, and reigns
With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still
Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains
Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rhaetian hill,
As Day and Night contending were, until
Nature reclaim'd her order :-gently flows
The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil
The odorous purple of a new-born rose,
Which streams upon her stream, and glass'd within it glows.
Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar,
Comes down upon the waters, all its hues,
From the rich sunset to the rising star,
Their magical variety diffuse.
And now they change; a paler shadow strews
Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps away,
The last still loveliest, till-'tis gone-and all is
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.
This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit :
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;
And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,
As full of labour as a wise man's art;
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
SHAKSPEARE.
JESTING. (How begot)
Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools :
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it.
Thought, busy thought! too busy for my peace, Through the dark postern of time long elaps'd Led softly, by the stillness of the night, Strays, wretched rover! o'er the pleasing past, In quest of wretchedness, perversely strays; And finds all desert now; and meets the ghosts Of my departed joys, a numerous train. I tremble at the blessings once so dear; And ev'ry pleasure pains me to the heart.
KNOWLEDGE. (Best kind of)
The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts
To interrupt the sweet of life, from which
God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,
And not molest us, unless we ourselves
Seek them with wand'ring thoughts and notions vain.
But apt the mind or fancy is to rove
Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end;
Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn
That not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure, and subtle, but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom; what is more, is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us in things that most concern,
Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek.
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