And unless while he lives; and when he dies,
Brings into doubt the wisdom of the skies.
Truths that the learn'd purfue with eager

thought,

Are not important always as dear-bought,
Proving at last, though told in pompous strains,
A childish waste of philofophic pains ;

But truths on which depends our main concern,
That 'tis our shame and mis'ry not to learn,
Shine by the fide of ev'ry path we tread
With fuch a luftre, he that runs may read.
Tis true, that if to trifle life away

Down to the fun-set of their latest day,
Then perish on futurity's wide fhore

Like fleeting exhalations, found no more,
Were all that Heav'n requir'd of human kind,
And all the plan their deftiny defign'd,

What none could rev'rence all might justly blame,
And man would breathe but for his Maker's fhame,
But reafon heard, and nature well perus'd,
At once the dreaming mind is disabus'd.

If all we find poffeffing earth, fea, air,
Refle& his attributes who plac'd them there,
Fulfil the purpose, and appear defign'd
Proofs of the wifdom of th' all feeing mind,

'Tis plain, the creature whom he chose t' invest
With kingship and dominion o'er the rest,
Receiv'd his nobler nature, and was made
Fit for the power in which he stands array'd,
That firft or laft, hereafter if not here,

He too might make his Author's wifdom clear,
Praise him on earth, or, obftinately dumb,
Suffer his juftice in a world to come.

This once believ'd, 'twere logic mifapplied
To prove a confequence by none denied,
That we are bound to caft the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heav'nly truth,
That taught of God they may indeed be wife,
Nor ignorantly wand'ring miss the skies.
In early days the confcience has in most
A quickness, which in later life is loft,
Preferv'd from guilt by falutary fears,
Or, guilty, foon relenting into tears.
Too careless often, as our years proceed,

What friends we fort with, or what books we cad,
Our parents yet exert a prudent care

To feed our infant minds with proper care
And wifely store the nurs'ry, by degrees,
With wholesome learning and acquir'd with cafe,
Neatly fecur'd from being foil'd or torn,
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn,

A book (to please us at a tender age

'Tis call'd a book, though but a fingle page) Presents the pray'r the Saviour deign'd to teach, Which children ufe, and parfons-when they

preach.

Lifping our fyllables, we fcramble next
Through moral narrative, or facred text,

And learn with wonder how this world began,

Who made, who marr'd, and who has ranfom'd

man.

Points, which unless the Scripture made them plain,
The wifest heads might agitate in vain.
Oh thou, whom borne on fancy's eager wing
Back to the season of life's happy spring,
I pleas'd remember, and while mem❜ry yet
Holds faft her office here, can ne'er forget,
ingenious dreamer, in whofe well told tale
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail,
Whose hum'rous vein, strong sense, and fimple
style,

May teach the gayeft, make the gravest smile,
Witty, and well employ'd, and like thy Lord,
Speaking in parables his flighted word,
I name thee not, left fo defpis'd a name
Should move a fneer at thy deferved fame;

Yet

1

Yet ev'n in tranfitory life's late day,

That mingles all my brown with sober grey,
Revere the man, whofe Pilgrim marks the road,
And guides the Progress of the foul to God.
"Twere well with most, if books that could engage
Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age;
The man, approving what had charm'd the boy,
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy,
And not with curfes on his art who stole
The gem of truth from his unguarded foul.
The stamp of artless piety impress'd

By kind tuition on his yielding breast,

The youth now bearded, and yet pert and raw, Regards with fcorn, though once receiv'd with

awe,

And, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies,
That babblers, call'd philofophers, devise,
Blafphemes his creed, as founded on a plan
Replete with dreams, unworthy of a man.
Touch but his nature in its ailing part,
Affert the native evil of his heart,

His pride resents the charge, although the proof*
Rife in his forehead, and feem rank enough;

Point to the cure, defcribes a Saviour's cross

As God's expedient to retrieve his lofs,

* See 2 Chron. ch, xxvi. ver. 19.

The

The young apoftate fickens at the view,
And hates it with the malice of a Jew.

How weak the barrier of mere nature proves,
Oppos'd against the pleasures nature loves!
While felf-betray'd, and wilfully undone,
She longs to yield, no fooner woo'd than won.
Try now the merits of this bleft exchange
Of modeft truth for wit's eccentric range.
Time was, he clos'd as he began the day
With decent duty, not afham'd to pray;
The practice was a bond upon his heart,
A pledge he gave for a confiftent part,
Nor could he dare prefumptuously displease
A pow'r confefs'd fo lately on his knees.
But now, farewell all legendary tales,
The fhadows fly, philofophy prevails;
Pray'r to the winds, and caution to the waves,
Religion makes the free by nature slaves,

Priests have invented, and the world admir'd What knavish priests promulgate as inspir'd, 'Till reason, now no longer overaw'd,

Refumes her pow'rs, and fpurns the clumfy fraud,
And, common fenfe diffufing real day,

The meteor of the gospel dies away.
Such rhapsodies our fhrewd difcerning youth
Learn from expert enquirers after truth;

Whofe