The barren Muse no lay can bring,

Dry'd up is the Castalian spring

What-not a spark of mental fire,

The sluggard Genius to inspire?

Must the with empty hand appear

she Before the Porter of the year?

Rather in paths untry'd before,

Let us what no where' is, explore.

Lo! whilst the undetermin’d muse,

Now up, now down, the search pursues,

Turns here and there, and round and round;

Nay—do not smile-he's Nothing found.

Nothing more worth than gems we hold, Nothing more precious is than gold;

With kindness, Sir, your ears incline,

No hackney'd, ransack'd theme is mine :

Grecian Grecian and Roman bards, we own,

Thro' all Pieria's heights have flown;

Nothing 's the subject, yet unsung

By Grecian or by Roman tongue.

Where'er, from high Olympian throne,

Bright Ceres on her fields looks down;

Where'er old Ocean shews his face,

And clasps the earth in close embrace ;

NOTHING beginning wants, and end;

NOTHING does bliss complete attend.

If hence, indisputably shine

The pow'r and energy divine,
What offer’d gifts, what fames can rise,

Worthy the Ruler of the skies?

Nothing's more pleasing to the fight Than the clear day's fair beaming light;

NOTHING

NOTHING more beauteous verdure spreads,

Than water'd lawns, or flow'ry meads.

NOTHING more jocund is than Spring ;

More foft than Zephyr's balmy wing.

NOTHING the

rage

of war defies,

And ev’n in tumult sacred lies.

NOTHING, in peace, is right and just.

NOTHING, in treaties, you may trust. .

'Happy, who NOTHING still enjoys ;

Be this my boon, Tibullus cries;

He nor for doubtful lawsuits cares,

Nor baleful fires, nor thieves, nor snares.

Nay—he whom grave old I Zeno owns

The first of wisdom's favour'd sons,

Tho' all things else to fate he leaves,

NOTHING admires, and NOTHING craves.

Among

† An ancient Grecian philosopher, and founder of the feet of Sioics. Among the old | Socratic crew,

'Twas wisdom, NOTHING, Sir, to know ;

And, Sir, I speak it to our praise,

NOTHING's the study now a days ;

Still ’tis our youth's supreme concern

NOTHING, at school, at home, to learn;

Who Nothing know, are sure to rise

To wealth, and fame, and dignities.

Know Nothing-all the sense you'll gain

That fill’d the g Pythagoric bean,
Which, in forenfick disputation,

Possess’d a suffrage of * NEGATION.

Many + Many, with Mercury their guide, Earth’s bowels pure have liquefy’d, Willing their substance to consume

In secret works, and fire, and fume;

Till, with long loss, and labour weak,

They NOTHING find, yet NOTHING fcek.

Not ev’n the man, whose copious brains

Can fum the fands of Afric's plains,

With measuring staff, or out-stretch'd line,

Can boundless Nothing's length define.

Nothing, not Sol's bright influence shares.
NOTHING, is higher than the stars.

Ev'n you, my friend, whose foul profound

Can scale the skies, or pierce the ground;

Whose wise, acute, fagacious mind
To depths unknown a clue can find;

Ev'n

+ This alludes to the search after the philosopher's-stone, which at that time particularly exercised the lucubrations of the curious.