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C ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.
Lyttletor 251 Verses making Part of an Epitaph on the same Lady
ditte 751 Monody on Major Andre ! Benvard. 363 Ode to John Howard, Esq;
Hayley 281 2
H! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shinesafár !!
d with Fortune an eternal war!
In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim Had He, whose fimple tale these artless lines pros III. This fapient age disclains all classic lore ; Else I should bere in cunning phrase display, How forth THE MINSTREL fared in days of yoreg. Right glad of heart, though homely in array ; His waving locks and beard all hoary grey : And, from his bending Moulder, decent hung His harp, the fole companion of his way, ,
Which to the whilling wind responfive rung :: And ever as he went some merry lay lie sung.
IV. Tret not yourselves, ye filken fons of pride, That a poor wanderer Mould inspire my train, The muses fortune's fickle smile deride, Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane ; Tif their delights are with the village train, Whom nature's law's engage, and nature's charms : They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain ;
The parasite their influence never warms, Nor him whose fordid soul the love of wealth alarms.
Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
To please a tyrant, Atrain the little bill,
If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise ;
Here peaceful are ihe valçs, and pure the skies, And freedom fires the soul, and sparkles in the eyes.
VII. Then grieve not, thou to whom the indulgent Myse Vouchlafes a portion of celellial fire ; Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse Th'imperial banquet, and the rich'attire. Know thine own worth and reverence the lyre. Wilt thou debale the heart which God refin'd ; No; let the heaven-taught soul, to heaven aspire
To fancy, freedom, harmony, refign'd; Ambition's groveling crew for ever left behind.
VIII. Canst thou forego the pure
etherial soul In each fine sente so exquisitely keen, On the dull couch of Luxury to loll, Stung with disease, and stupisied with spleen; Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen, Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide, (The mansion then no more of joy serene)
Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
And all the dread magnificence of heaven,
X. These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy impart.