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Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
teach To love it too. The spring-time of our years Is soon dishonour'd and defiled in most
590 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand To check them. But alas ! none sooner shoots, If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth, Than cruelty, most devilish of them all. Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
595 And righteous limitation of its act By which Heaven moves in pardoning guilty man; And he that shows none, being ripe in years, And conscious of the outrage he commits, Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn.
600 Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more By our capacity of grace divine, From creatures that exist but for our sake, Which having served us, perish, we are held Accountable, and God, some future day, Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. Superior as we are, they yet depend Not more on human help, than we on theirs. Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were given 610 In aid of our defects. In some are found Such teachable and apprehensive parts, That man's attainments in his own concerns, Match'd with the expertness of the brutes in theirs, Are oft-times vanquish'd and thrown far behind. 615 Some show that nice sagacity of smell, And read with such discernment in the port
And figure of the man, his secret aim,
630 And glistening even in the dying eye. Man praises man.
Desert in arts or arms Wins public honour ; and ten thousand sit Patiently present at a sacred song, Commemoration-mad; content to hear (Oh wonderful effect of music's power!) Messiah's eulogy, for Handel's sake. But less, methinks, than sacrilege might servem (For was it less ? What heathen would have dared To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath
640 And hang it up in honour of a man ?) Much less might serve, when all that we design Is but to gratify an itching ear,
In their looks
Par. Lost, ix. 558.
Book ii. 394.
And give the day to a musician's praise.
-Man praises man, and Garrick's memory next, When time hath somewhat mellow'd it, and made 665 The idol of our worship while he lived, The God of our idolatry once more, Shall have its altar ; and the world shall go In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. The theatre too small, shall suffocate
670 Its squeezed contents, and more than it admits Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return Ungratified. For there some noble lord Shall stuff his shoulders with King Richard's bunch,
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak,
675 And strut and storm and straddle, stamp and stare, To show the world how Garrick did not act 19. For Garrick was a worshipper himself ; He drew the Liturgy, and framed the rites And solemn ceremonial of the day,
The rabble all alive,
and bless him. Maidens wave Their ’kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy; 700
19 How his eyes languish ! how his thoughts adore
Young Satire iv.
Book vi. 238.
While others not so satisfied unhorse
The groans of nature in this nether world,