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In happy climes, the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides and virtue rules,
Where men shall not impose for truth and sense

The pedantry of courts and schools :
There shall be sung another golden age,

The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great inspiring epic rage,

The wiseft heads, and noblest hearts.

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ;

Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heav'nly flame did animate her clay,

By future poets shall be sung.
Westward the course of empire takes its way;

The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day;

Time's noblest offspring is the last.



To Mr.

M A S O N.


BELIEVE me, Mason, 'tis in vain

Thy fortitude the torrent braves ;
Thou too must bear th' inglorious chain ;

The world, the world will have its flaves.
The chosen friend, for converse sweet,
The small, yet elegant retreat,
Are peaceful unambitious views

Which early fancy loves to form,
When, aided by the ingenuous Muse,
She turns the philofophie page,
And sees the wise of every age
With Nature's dictates warm.

But ah! to few has Fortune given

The choice, to take or to refuse;
To fewer ftill indulgent Heaven

Allots the very will to chale.
And why are varying schemes preferr'a ?
Man mixes with the common berd,

By custom guided to pursue :

Or wealth, or honors, fame, or ease;
What other's wish he willies too,
Nor, from his own peculiar choice,
'Till strengthen'd by the public voice,
His very pleasures please.

How oft, beneath some hoary shade

Where Cam glides indolently flow,
Hast thou, as indolently laid,
- Preferr'd to Heav'n thy fav’rite vow;

Here, here for ever let me stay, “ Here calmly loiter life away, “ Nor all those vain connections know

" Which fetter down the free-born mind «The flave of interest, or of thew; “ Whilst yon gay tenant of the grove; "The happier heir of Nature's love,

“ Can warble unconfin'd."


Yet sure, my friend, th' eternal plan

By Truth unerring was defign'd; Inferior parts were made for man,

But man himself for all mankind. Then by th' apparent judge th' unseen; Behold liow rolls this yaft machine


To one great end, howe'er withstood,

Directing its impartial course,
All labour for the general good.
Some stem the wave, some till the foil,
By choice the bold, th' ambitious toil,

The indolent by force.


That bird, thy fancy frees from care,

With many a fear unknown to thee,
Muit 1ove to glean his fcanty fare

From field to field, from tree to treę :
His lot, united with his kind,
Has all his little joys confin'd;
The Lover's and the Parent's ties

Alarm by turns his anxious breast;
Yet, bound by fate, by instinct wise,
He hails with fongs the rising morn,
And pleas'd at evening's cool return
He fings himself to reit.

And tell me, has not Naturę made

Some stated void for thee to fill,
Some spring, some wheel, which alks thy aid
To move, regardless of thy will ?
Go then, go feel with glad furprise
New bliss from new connections rise ;

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'Till, happier in thy wider sphere,

Thou quit thy darling schemes of ease;
Nay, glowing in the full career
Ev'n with thy virtuous labours more;
Nor 'till the toilsome day is o'er

Expect the night of peace.

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He Silence rules the midnight hour,


I woo thee, Goddess. On my musing mind

Descend, propitious Power!
And bid these riffling gales of grief subside :
Bid my calm'd soul with all thy influence shine;
As yon chaste Orb along this ample tide
Draws the long lustre of her filver line,
While the hush'd breeze its last weak whisper blows,
And lulls old HUMBER to his deep repose.

Come to thy Vot?ry's ardent prayer,
In all thy graceful plainness drest;
No knot confines thy waving hair,
No zone thy floating veft.


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