535

And so illuminates the path of life
That fools discover it, and stray no more.

530
Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir,
My man of morals, nurtured in the shades
Of Academus, is this false or true ?
Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools ?
If Christ, then why resort at every turn
To Athens or to Rome for wisdom short
Of man's occasions, when in Him reside
Grace, knowledge, comfort, an unfathom'd store ?
How oft when Paul has served us with a text,
Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully preach'd !

540 Men that, if now alive, would sit content And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, Preach it who might 23. Such was their love of truth, Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too.

And thus it is. The pastor, either vain 545 By nature, or by flattery made so, taught To gaze at his own splendour, and to exalt Absurdly, not his office, but himself; Or unenlighten’d, and too proud to learn, Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach, Perverting often by the stress of lewd And loose example, whom he should instruct, Exposes and holds up te broad disgrace The noblest function, and discredits much The brightest truths that man has ever seen. For ghostly counsel, if it either fall Below the exigence, or be not back'd 23 Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent Would have been held in high esteem with Paul.

Milton. Sonnet xix.

550

555 565

570

With show of love, at least with hopeful proof
Of some sincerity on the giver's part ;
Or be dishonour'd in the exterior form

560
And mode of its conveyance, by such tricks
As move derision, or by foppish airs
And histrionic mummery, that let down
The pulpit to the level of the stage,
Drops from the lips a disregarded thing 24.
The weak perhaps are moved, but are not taught,
While prejudice in men of stronger minds
Takes deeper root, confirm’d by what they see.
A relaxation of religion's hold
Upon the roving and untutor'd heart
Soon follows, and the curb of conscience snapt,
The laity run wild.—But do they now ?
Note their extravagance, and be convinced.

As nations ignorant of God, contrive A wooden one, so we, no longer taught

575 By monitors that mother church supplies, Now make our own. Posterity will ask (If e'er posterity see verse of mine,) Some fifty or an hundred lustrums hence, What was a monitor in George's days?

580 My very gentle reader, yet unborn, Of whom I needs must augur better things, Since Heaven would sure grow weary of a world Productive only of a race like us, A monitor is wood. Plank shaven thin.

585 We wear it at our backs. There closely braced And neatly fitted, it compresses hard 2+ Flaunts and goes down an unregarded thing.

Pope. Moral Essuys, ii. 252.

its use

The prominent and most unsightly bones,
And binds the shoulders flat. We

prove Sovereign and most effectual to secure

590 A form not now gymnastic as of yore, From rickets and distortion, else, our lot. But thus admonish'd we can walk erect, One proof at least of manhood; while the friend Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. 595 Our habits costlier than Lucullus wore, And by caprice as multiplied as his, Just please us while the fashion is at full, But change with every moon. The sycophant That waits to dress us, arbitrates their date, 600 Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye; Finds one ill made, another obsolete, This fits not nicely, that is ill conceived, And making prize of all that he condemns, With our expenditure defrays his own.

605 Variety's the very spice of life) That gives it all its flavour. We have run Through every change that fancy at the loom Exhausted, has had genius to supply, And studious of mutation still, discard

610 A real elegance a little used For monstrous novelty and strange disguise. We sacrifice to dress, till household joys And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, And keeps our larder lean. Puts out our fires, 615 And introduces hunger, frost, and woe, Where peace and hospitality might reign. What man that lives and that knows how to live, Would fail to exhibit at the public shows

A form as splendid as the proudest there,

620 Though appetite raise outcries at the cost ? A man of the town dines late, but soon enough With reasonable forecast and dispatch, To insure a side-box station at half price. You think perhaps, so delicate his dress,

625 His daily fare as delicate. Alas ! He picks clean teeth, and busy as he seems With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet. The rout is folly's circle which she draws With magic wand. So potent is the spell, 630 That none decoy'd into that fatal ring, Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape. There we grow early grey, but never wise ; There form connexions, and acquire no friend ; Solicit pleasure hopeless of success;

635 Waste youth in occupations only fit For second childhood, and devote old age To sports which only childhood could excuse 25. There they are happiest who dissemble best Their weariness; and they the most polite 610 Who squander time and treasure with a smile, Though at their own destruction. She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming. They, what can they less ?

25 At last to follies youth could scarce defend,
It

grows their age's prudence to pretend ;
Ashamed to own they gave delight before,
Reduced to feign it when they give no more:
As hags hold sabbaths less for joy than spite,
So these their merry, miserable night.

Pope. Moral Essays. Epist. ii. 235.

Make just reprisals, and with cringe and shrug 645
And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her 26.
All catch the frenzy, downward from her Grace,
Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies
And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass,
To her who, frugal only that her thrift

650
May feed excesses she can ill afford,
Is hackney'd home unlackey'd, --who in haste
Alighting, turns the key in her own door,
And at the watchman's lantern borrowing light,
Finds a cold bed her only comfort left.

655 Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wives, On Fortune's velvet altar offering up Their last poor pittance ;—Fortune most severe Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far Than all that held their routs in heathen heaven.So fare we in this prison-house the world : 661 And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see So many maniacs dancing in their chains. They gaze upon the links that hold them fast With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot,

665 Then shake them in despair, and dance again.

Now basket up the family of plagues That waste our vitals. Peculation, sale Of honour, perjury, corruption, frauds By forgery, by subterfuge of law,

670 By tricks and lies as numerous and as keen As the necessities their authors feel; 26 What though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate

Each morning vomits out the sneaking crowd
Of latterers false, and in their turn abused,
Vile intercourse.

Thomson. Autumn, 1243.