If never heeded, thy attack is vain ;
And if they heed thee, they'll attack again;
Then too in striking at that heedless rate,
Thou in an instant may'st decide thy fate.
Leave admonition-let the vicar give
Rules how the nobles of his flock should live ;
Nor take that simple fancy to thy brain,
That thou canst cure the wicked and the vain..

Strive not too much for favour; seem at ease,
And rather pleased thyself, than bent to please:
Upon thy Lord with decent care attend,
But not too near; thou canst not be a friend;
And favourite be not, 'tis a dangerous post-
Is gain'd by labour, and by fortune lost:
Talents like thine may make a man approved,
But other talents trusted and beloved.
Look round, my son, and thou wilt early see
The kind of man thou art not form'd to be.

The real favourites of the great are they
Who to their views and wants attention pay,
And pay it ever; who, with all their skill,
Dive to the heart, and learn the secret will;
If that be vicious, soon can they provide
The favourite ill, and o'er the soul preside.

These arts, indeed, my son must not pursue; Nor must he quarrel with the tribe that do: It is not safe another's crimes to know,

Nor is it wise our proper worth to show :-
My Lord,' you say, engaged me for that
worth ;'

True, and preserve it ready to come forth:
If question'd, fairly answer-and that done,
Shrink back, be silent, and thy father's son ;
For they who doubt thy talents scorn thy boast,
But they who grant them will dislike thee most:
Observe the prudent; they in silence sit,
Display no learning, and affect no wit:

They hazard nothing, nothing they assume,
But know the useful art of acting dumb.
Yet to their eyes each varying look appears,
And every word finds entrance at their ears.
Thou art religion's advocate-take heed,
Hurt not the cause, thy pleasure 'tis to plead ;
With wine before thee, and with wits beside,
Do not in strength of reas'ning powers confide;
What seems to thee convincing, certain, plain,
They will deny, and dare thee to maintain;
And thus will triumph o'er thy eager youth,
While thou wilt grieve for so disgracing truth.
With pain I've seen, these wrangling wits among,
Faith's weak defenders, passionate and young;
Weak thou art not, yet not enough on guard,
Where wit and humour keep their watch and ward;
Men gay and noisy will o'erwhelm thy sense,
Then loudly laugh at truth's and thy expense;
While the kind ladies will do all they can

To check their mirth, and cry, The good young

man.'

Prudence, my boy, forbids thee to commend
The cause or party of thy noble friend;

What are his praises worth, who must be known
To take a patron's maxims for his own?
When ladies sing, or in thy presence play,
Do not, dear John in rapture melt away;
Tis not thy part, there will be list❜ners round,
To cry divine! and doat upon the sound;
Remember too, that though the poor have ears,
They take not in the music of the spheres:
They must not feel the warble and the thrill,
Or be dissolved in ecstasy at will;
Beside, 'tis freedom in a youth like thee
To drop his awe, and deal in ecstasy!

In silent ease, at least in silence, dine,
Nor one opinion start of food or wine:

Thou know'st that all the science thou canst boast
Is of thy father's simple boil'd and roast;
Nor always these; he sometimes saved his cash,
By interlinear days of frugal hash:

Wine hadst thou seldom; wilt thou be so vain
As to decide on claret or champagne ?

Dost thou from me derive this taste sublime,
Who order port the dozen at a time?
When (every glass held precious in our eyes)
We judged the value by the bottle's size:
Then never merit for thy praise assume,

Its worth well knows each servant in the room.

VANITY. (Of all Things)

These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:

CRABBE.

And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And like this unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

SHAKSPEARE.

VANITY. (Of Human Wishes)

Enlarge my life with multitude of days;

In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays;
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know,
That life protracted is protracted woe.
Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,
And shuts up all the passages of joy :

In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r-
With listless eyes the dotard views the store,
He views, and wonders that they please no more;

Now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless wines,
And luxury with sighs her slave resigns.
Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain,
Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain:

No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear,
Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near;
Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend,
Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend :
But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue,
Perversely grave, or positively wrong.
The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest,
Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest,
While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer,
And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear ;

The watchful guests still hint the last offence,
The daughter's petulance, the son's expense,
Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill,
And mould his passions till they make his will.
Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade,
Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade;
But unextinguish'd av'rice still remains,
And dreaded losses aggravate his pains;

He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands,
His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands;
Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes,
Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies.
But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime;
An age that melts with unperceiv'd decay,
And glides in modest innocence away;
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears,
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers;
The gen❜ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend :
Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?
Yet ev'n on this her load misfortune flings,
To press the weary minutes' flagging wings;

New sorrow rises as the day returns,
A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns
Now kindred merit fills the sable bier,
Now lacerated friendship claims a tear.
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from with'ring life away;
New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,
Till pitying nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.

JOHNSON.

VENICE. (Why endeared to us)

But unto us she hath a spell beyond Her name in story, and her long array Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond Above the Dogeless city's vanish'd sway! Ours is a trophy which will not decay With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor, And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn awayThe key-stones of the arch! though all were o'er, For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

VENUS DE MEDICIS.

BYRON.

There, too, the goddess lives in stone, and fills
The air around with beauty; we inhale
The ambrosial aspect, which beheld, instils
Part of its immortality; the veil

Of heaven is half undrawn ; within the pale
We stand, and in that form and face behold
What mind can make, when nature's self would

fail;

And to the fond idolaters of old

Envy the innate flesh which such a soul could mould: