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While winter chills the blood, and binds the veins,
No labours are too hard by thofe you 'fcape
The flow diseases of the torpid year ;

But from the burning Lion when the fun
Pours down his fultry wrath; now while the blood
Too much already maddens in the veins,

And all the finer fluids thro' the skin
Explore their flight; me, near the cool cafcade
Reclin'd, or fauntring in the lofty grove,
No needlefs flight occafion fhould engage
To pant and fweat beneath the fiery noon.
Now the fresh morn alone and mellow eve
To fhady walks and active rural sports
Invite. But, while the chillings dews defcend,
May nothing tempt you to the cold embrace
Of humid fkies; tho' 'tis no vulgar joy
To trace the horrors of the folemn wood,
While the foft ev'ning faddens into night:
Tho' the fweet poet of the vernal groves
Melts all the night in ftrains of am'rous woe.

And we have the pleasure of reft after labour, and an admonition against eating too much, and too late at night, pointed out in the following beautiful lines.

The fhades defcend, and midnight o'er the world
Expands her fable wings. Great nature droops
Thro' all her works. Now happy he whofe toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rlefs limbs diffus'd
A pleafing laffitude:

But would you fweetly wafte the blank of night
In deep oblivion; or on fancy's wings
Vifit the paradife of happy dreams,
And waken chearful as the lively morn;
Opprefs not nature finking down to reft
With feafts too late, too folid, or too full.

This is followed by a caution against mifapplying those hours wherein nature intended we fhould reft; which is heighten'd and made more pleafing, by the beautiful fimile and moral reflection with which it concludes.

In ftudy fome protract the filent hours,
Which others confecrate to mirth and wine;
And fleep till noon, and hardly live till night.
But furely this redeems not from the shades
One hour of life.

The body, fresh and vigorous from repose,
Defies the early fogs: but, by the toils
Of wakeful day, exhaufted and unitrung,
Weakly refifts the night's unwholesome breath.
The grand difcharge, th' effufion of the skin,
Slowly impair'd, the languid maladies

Creep on, and thro' the fickning functions fteal.
So, when the chilling eaft invades the spring,
The delicate Narciffus pines away

In hectic languor; and a flow disease
Taints all the family of flow'rs, condemn'd
To cruel heav'ns. But why, already prone
To fade, fhould beauty cherish its own bane?
O fhame! O pity! nipt with pale quadrille,
And midnight cares, the bloom of Albion dies!

He then points out the reafon why thofe who labour obtain fo much refiefhment from fleep, while the indolent hardly find any relief.

By toil fubdu'd, the warrior and the hind
Sleep faft and deep: their active functions foon
With generous ftreams the fubtile tubes fupply;
And foon the tonick irritable nerves

Feel the fresh impulfe and awake the foul.
The fons of Indolence, with long repofe,
Grow torpid; and with floweft Lethe drunk,
Feebly and lingringly return to life,

Elunt every fenle, and pow'rlefs every limb.

This paffage he concludes, by recommending a hard matrafs, or elaftic couch, to thofe who are too much prone to fleep, in order to wean them from floth. But he juftly obferves, that fome people require more, others lefs fleep, and that all changes of this fort are to be brought about by gentle means, And

Slow as the fhadow o'er the dial moves,
Slow as the stealing progrefs of the year.

As it was neceffary under this article to fay fomething about cloathing the body, the author makes a few jult obfervations on the variations of the feafons; which he concludes with thefe lines.

The cold and torrid reigns,
The two great periods of th' important year,
Are in their first approaches feldom fafe:
Funereal autumn all the fickly dread,
And the black fates deform the lovely fpring.
He well advis'd who taught our wifer fires
Early to borrow Mufcovy's warm spoils,

Ere the first froft has touch'd the tender blade;
And late refign them, tho' the wanton spring
Should deck her charms with all her fifter's rays
For while the effluence of the skin maintains
Its native measure, the pleuritic fpring

Glides harmless by; and autumn, fick to death
With fallow quartans, no contagion breathes.

We have already obferved, that allufions to ancient fables or historical facts have a fine effect in preceptive poems. In this before us the author, when confidering the different shapes in which death approaches the human race, takes notice of the blood fpilt by the Plantagenets, and of the sweating fick nefs, which fwept off fuch amazing numbers of Englishmen in every clime, and of Englishmen only; for foreigners, tho' refiding in this country, were no ways affected with that diforder: and this, tho' a fubject incapable, as it were, of ornament, he has wrought up with fo much art, that it is both pathetic. and pleafing,

What he has faid on the paffions, the fubject of the fourth book, begins with the following reflection, which is truly philofophical, and very properly introduces the fentiments that follow it.

There is, they fay, (and I believe there is) A fpark within us of th' immortal fire,

That animates and'moulds the groffer frame;
And when the body finks efcapes to heav'n,
Its native feat, and mixes with the Gods.
Mean while this heav'nly particle pervades
The mortal elements, in every nerve

It thrills with pleafure, or grows mad with pain,
And, in its fecret conclave, as it feels

The body's woes and joys, this ruling power
Wields at its will the dull material world,
And is the body's health or malady.

By its own toil the grofs corporeal frame
Fatigues, extenuates, or deftroys itself.
Nor lefs the labours of the mind corrode
The folid fabric: for by fubtle parts,
And viewlefs atoms, fecret nature moves
The mighty wheels of this ftupendous world.
By fubtle fluids pour'd thro' fubtle tubes
The natural, vital, functions are perform❜d.
By these the ftubborn aliments are tam'd;
The toiling heart distributes life and strength;
These the ftill-crumbling frame rebuild; and these
Are loft in thinking, and diffolve in air.

But 'tis not thought, as he obferves, (for every moment the mind is employ'd) 'tis painful thinking; 'tis the anxiety that attends fevere ftudy, difcontent, care, love, hatred, fear and jealoufy, that fatigues the foul and impairs the body.

Hence the lean gloom that melancholy wears;
The lover's palenefs; and the fallow hue
Of envy, jealoufy; the meagre ftare
Of fore revenge: the canker'd body hence
Betrays each fretful motion of the mind.

For reading he gives us a precept that tremely useful to the ftudious.

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While reading pleafes, but no longer, read;
And read aloud refounding Homer's ftrain,
And wield the thunder of Demofthenes.
The chest fo exercis'd improves its ftrength;

And quick vibrations thro' the bowels drive
The reftlefs blood, which in unactive days
Would loiter else thro' unelaftic tubes.
Deem it not trifling while I recommend
What posture fuits: To ftand and fit by turns,
As nature prompts, is beft. But o'er your leaves
To lean for ever, cramps the vital parts,
And robs the fine machinery of its play.

'Tis the great art of life to manage well
The reftlefs mind. For ever on pursuit
Of knowledge bent, it ftarves the groffer powers:
Quite unemploy'd, against its own repofe
It turns its fatal edge, and fharper pangs
Than what the body knows embitter life.

After this the poet gives us a ftriking picture of the dreadful effects of our misguided paffions, which is heightened with many admirable reflections, fome of which I fhall here infert.

For while yourself you anxiously explore,
Timorous felf-love, with fickning fancy's aid,
Prefents the danger that you dread the most,
And ever galls you in your tender part.
Hence fome for love, and fome for jealousy,
For grim religion fome, and fome for pride,
Have loft their reafon : fome for fear of want,
Want all their lives; and others every day
For fear of dying fuffer worfe than death.
And what avails it, that indulgent heaven
From mortal eyes has wrapt the woes to come;
If we, ingenious to torment ourselves,
Grow pale at hideous fictions of our own?
. Enjoy the prefent; nor with needlefs cares,
Of what may fpring from blind misfortune's womb,
Appal the fureft hour that life beftows.

Serene, and mafter of yourself, prepare

For what may come; and leave the reft to heav`n.

And those chronic paffions which fpring from real woes, and from no diforder in the body, are not to be reafon'd down, as he obferves, but to be cured by fuch

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