Wealth may be courted, Wisdom be revered, And Beauty praised, and brutal Strength be feared; But Goodness only can affection move, And love must owe its origin to love. Illam quicquid agit, quoquo vestigia flectit, TIBUL. OF gentle manners, and of taste refined, With all the graces of a polished mind; Clear sense and truth still shone in all she spoke, And from her lips no idle sentence broke. Each nicer elegance of art she knew; Correctly fair, and regularly true. Her ready fingers plied with equal skill The pencil's task, the needle, or the quill; So subject all to reason's calm controul, One only passion, strong and unconfined, One passion ruled despotic in her breast, In every word, and look, and thought confest :- The generous transports of a fond excess. HAPPY old man! who stretched beneath the shade Of large grown trees, or in the rustic porch In genuine worth, not unobserved shall pass Thy bashful virtues! for the Muse shall mark, Detect thy charities, and call to light Thy secret deeds of mercy; while the poor, The desolate and friendless, at thy gate, A numerous family, with better praise Shall hallow in their hearts thy spotless name. SUCH were the dames of old heroic days, Obscure, in sober dignity retired, They more deserved than sought to be admired; The household virtues o'er their honoured head Their simple grace and modest lustre shed: Chaste their attire, their feet unused to roam, They loved the sacred threshold of their home; Yet true to glory, fanned the generous flame, Is there whom genius and whom taste adorn Calm, philosophic, thoughtful, largely fraught With stores of various knowledge, dwell the powers That trace out secret causes, and unveil Great Nature's awful face? Is there whose hours Of still domestic leisure breathe the soul Of friendship, peace, and elegant delight Beneath poetic shades, where leads the Muse Through walks of fragrance, and the fairy groves Where young ideas blossom?-Is there one Whose tender hand, lenient of human woes, Wards off the dart of death, and smooths the couch Of torturing anguish? On so dear a name May blessings dwell, honour, and cordial praise; Nor need he be a brother to be loved. www. CHAMPION of Truth, alike through Nature's field, And where in sacred leaves she shines reveal'd, Alike in both, eccentric, piercing, bold, Like his own lightnings, which no chains can hold ; Neglecting caution, and disdaining art, He seeks no armour for a naked heart : |