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And you, brave Cobham ! to the latest breath And, at the bottom, barbarous still and rude,
Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death ; We are restrained, indeed, but not subdued.
Such in those moments as in all the past, The very remedy, however sure,
“O, save my country, Heaven !” shall be your Springs from the mischief it intends to cure,
last.

And savage in its principle appears,
ALEXANDER POPE.

Tried, as it should be, by the fruit it bears.

”T is hard, indeed, if othing will defend CONTRADICTION.

Mankind from quarrels but their fatal ond ;

That now and then a hero must decease,
FROM "CONVERSATION.'

That the surviving world may live in peace. YE powers who rule the tongue, if such there

Perhaps at last close scrutiny nay show are,

The practice dastardly and mean and low; And make colloquial happiness your care,

That men engage in it compelled by force, Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate,

And fear, not courage, is its proper source ; A duel in the form of a debate.

The fear of tyrant custom, and the fear The clash of arguments and jar of words,

Lest fops should censure us, and fools should! Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords,

sneer; Decide no question with their tedious length,

At least, to trample on our Maker's laws, For opposition gives opinion strength,

And hazard life for any or no cause, Divert the champions prodigal of breath,

To rush into a fixed eternal state And put the peacefully disposed to death.

Out of the very flames of rage and hate, 0, thwart me not, Sir Soph, at every turn,

Or send another shivering to the bar Nor carp at every flaw you may discern!

With all the guilt of such unnatural war, Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue,

Whatever Use may urge, or Honor plead, I am not surely always in the wrong ;

On Reason's verdict is a madman's deed. "T is hard if all is false that I advance,

Am I to set my life upon a throw A fool must now and then be right by chance.

Because a bear is rude and surly? No, Not that all freedom of dissent I blame ;

A moral, sensible, and well-bred man No, - there I grant the privilege I claim.

Will not affront me; and no other can. A disputable point is no man's ground;

Were I empowered to regulate the lists, Rove where you please, 't is common all around.

They should encounter with well-loaded fists; Discourse may want an animated No,

A Trojan combat would be something new, To brush the surface, and to make it flow ;

Let Dares beat Entellus black and blue ; But still remember, if you mean to please,

Then each might show, to his admiring friends, To press your point with modesty and ease.

In honorable bumps his rich amends, The mark at which my juster aim I take,

And carry, in contusions of his skull,
Is contradiction for its own dear sake.

A satisfactory receipt in full.
Set your opinion at whatever pitch,
Knots and impediments make something hitch ;
Adopt his own, 't is equally in vain,
Your thread of argument is snapped again.
The wrangler, rather than accord with you,

FAME.
Will judge himself deceived, and prove it too.

FROM "AN ESSAY ON MAN," EPISTLE IV.
Vociferated logic kills me quite ;
A noisy man is always in the right.

What's fame?-a fancied life in others' I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair,

breath, Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare, | A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. And, when I hope his blunders are all out, Just what you hear, you have ; and what's un. Reply discreetly, — “To be sure – no doubt!”

known WILLIAM COWPER. The same (my lord) if Tully's, or your own.

All that we feel of it begins and ends

In the small circle of our foes or friends ;
DUELLING.

To all beside, as much an empty shade
FROM "CONVERSATION.”

A Eugene living as a Cæsar dead ;
THE point of honor has been deemed of use, Alike or when or where they shone or shine,
To teach good manners, and to curb abuse;

Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
Aduit it true, the consequence is clear,

A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
Our polished manners che a mask we wear, | An nonest man 's the noblest work of God.

WILLIAM COW PER.

Fame but from death a villain's name can save, Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood
As justice tears his body from the grave; Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
When what to oblivion better were resigned Go! and pretend your family is young,
Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert;

What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ?
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart : Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas ;

Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels

Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.

Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
ALEXANDER POPE. Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains,

Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed

Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.
FAME.

ALEXANDER POPE.
Her house is all of Echo made
Where never dies the sound;

REASON AND INSTINCT.
And as her brows the clouds invade,

FROM " AN ESSAY ON MAN," EPISTLE III.
Her feet do strike the ground.

WHETHER with reason or with instinct blest,
BEN JONSON.

Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best;

To bliss alike by that direction tend,
PERSEVERANCE.

And find the means proportioned to their end.

Say, where full instinct is the unerring guide, In facile natures fancies quickly grow,

What pope or council can they need beside ? But such quick fancies have but little root.

Reason, however able, cool at best, Soon the narcissus flowers and dies, but slow

Cares not for service, or but serves when prest, The tree whose blossoms shall mature to fruit. Stays till we call, and then not often near ; Grace is a moment's happy feeling, Power

But honest instinct comes a volunteer,
A life's slow growth ; and we for many an hour Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit :
Must strain and toil, and wait and weep, if we While still too wide or short is human wit,
The perfect fruit of all we are would see.

Sure by quick nature happiness to gain,
From the Italian of LEONARDO DA VINCI.

CI. Which heavier reason labors at in vain.
Translation of W. W, STORY.

This too serves always, reason never long;
One must go righ:, the other may go wrong.

See then the acting and comparing powers
GREATNESS.

One in their nature, which are two in ours ;
FROM "AN ESSAY ON MAN," EPISTLE IV.

And reason raise o'er instinct as you can,

In this 't is God directs, in that 't is man. Honor and shame from no condition rise ; Who taught the nations of the field and wood Act well your part, there all the honor lies.

To shun their poison and to choose their food ? Fortune in men has some small difference made, Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;

Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand ? The cobbler aproned, and the parson gowned,

Who made the spider parallels design, The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned.

Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line ? “ What differ more (you cry) than crown and Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore cowl ?"

Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before! I'll tell you, friend ; a wise man and a fool.

Who calls the council, states the certain day, You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk

Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way! Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella. Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with

SCANDAL strings,

FROM "EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTKNOT," BEING THE “PRO That thou mayst be by kings, or whores of kings; Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, CURSED be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece ;

That tends to make one worthy man my foe, But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate, Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, Count me those only who were good and great. Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear !

ALEXANDER POPE.

LOGUE TO THE SATIRES."

FROM "THE WINTER WALK AT NOON :"

But he who hurts a harmless neighbor's peace, I

OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS.
Insults fallen worth, or beauty in distress,
Who loves a lie, lame slander helps about,

FROM "PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY."
Who writes a libel, or who copies out;

SHAME upon thee, savage monarch-man, proud That fop whose pride affects a patron's name,

monopolist of reason ; Yet absent wounds an author's honest fame;

Shame upon creation's lord, the fierce ensanWho can your merit selfishly approve,

guined despot : And show the sense of it without the love;

| What, man ! are there not enough, hunger and Who has the vanity to call you friend,

diseases and fatigue, — Yet wants the honor, injured, to defend ;

And yet must thy goad or thy thong add another Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you

sorrow to existence ? say,

| What ! art thou not content thy sin hath dragged And, if he lie not, must at least betray. ;

down suffering and death Who to the Dean and silver bell can strear,

On the poor durub servants of thy comfort, ard And sees at Canons what was never there ;

yet must thou rack them with thy spite ? Who reads but with a lust to misapply,

The prodigal heir of creation hath gambled away Make satire a lampoon, and fiction lie ;

his all, – A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,

Shall he add torment to the bondage that is But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.

galling his forfeit serfs ? ALEXANDER POPE.

The leader in nature's pæan himself hath marred

her psaltery, —

Shall he multiply the din of discord by overHUMANITY.

straining all the strings?

The rebel hath fortified his stronghold, shutting THE TASK," BOOK VI.

in his vassals with him, I WOULD not enter on my list of friends

Shall he aggravate the woes of the besieged by (Though graced with polished manners and fine

oppression from within ?

Thou twice-deformed image of thy Maker, thou sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man

hateful representative of Love, Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.

For very shame be merciful, be kind unto the An inadvertent step may crush the snail

creatures thou hast ruined ! That crawls at evening in the public path ;

Earth and her million tribes are cursed for thy But he that has humanity, forewarned,

sake, Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.

Earth and her million tribes still writhe beneath The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight,

thy cruelty : And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes,

Liveth there but one among the million that shall A visitor unwelcome, into scenes

not bear witness against thee, Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove,

A pensioner of land or air or sea that hath not

whereof it will accuse thee? The chamber, or refectory, may die :

From the elephant toiling at a launch, to the A necessary act incurs no blame.

shrew-mouse in the harvest-field, Not so when, held within their proper bounds,

From the whale which the harpooner hath And guiltless of offence, they range the air,

stricken, to the minnow caught upon a pin, Or take their pastime in the spacious field :

From the albatross wearied in its flight, to the There they are privileged ; and he that hunts

wren in her covered nest, Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong, Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm,

From the death-moth and lace-winged dragon-fly Who, when she formed, designed them an abode.

to the lady-bird and the gnat, The sum is this : If man's convenience, health,

The verdict of all things is unanimous, finding

their inaster cruel : Or safety interfere, his rights and claims

| The dog, thy humble friend, thy trusting, honest Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are --

friend ; As free to live, and to enjoy that life,

The ass, thine uncomplaining slave, drudging

from morn till even ; As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.

The lamb, and the timorous hare, and the laboring Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons

ox at plough ; To love it too.

The speckled trout basking in the shallow, and

the partridge gleaming in the stubble,

WILLIAM COW PER.

FROM "THE SEASONS: SPRING."

high,

And the stag at bay, and the worm in thy path, ! Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,

and the wild bird pining in captivity, The daring tribe compound their boasted trash, — And all things that minister alike to thy life and Tincture or syrup, lotion, drop or pill ; thy confort and thy pride,

All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill : Testify with one sad voice that man is a cruel And twenty names of cobblers turned to squires master.

Aid the bold language of these blushless liars.
MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER.

There are among them those who cannot read,
And yet they 'll buy a patent, and succeed ;

Will dare to promise dying sufferers aid,
PLEA FOR THE ANIMALS. For who, when dead, can threaten or upbraid ?

With cruel avarice still they recoinmend

More draughts, more syrup, to the journey's end. ENSANGUINED man

“I feel it not.” “Then take it every hour.” Is now become the lion of the plain,

" It makes me worse.” “Why, then it shows And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold *

its power.” Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her “I fear to die." “ Let not your spirits sink. milk,

You're always safe while you believe and drink." Nor wore her warming fleece ; nor has the steer, At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, I Troubled with something in your bile or blood. E'er ploughed for him. They too are tempered You think your doctor does you little good :

And, grown impatient, you require in haste With hunger stung and wild necessity;

The nervous cordial, nor dislike the taste ; Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast.

It comforts, heals, and strengthens ; nay, you But man, whom nature formed of milder clay,

think With every kind emotion in his heart,

It makes you better every time you drink; And taught alone to weep, — while from her lap who tipples brandy will some comfort feel. She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs,

But will he to the medicine set his seal ? And fruits as numerous as the drops of rain Or beams that gave them birth, — shall he, fair No class escapes them from the poor man's pay forin!

The nostrum takes no trifling part away; Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on

See! those square patent bottles from the shop heaven,

Now decoration to the cupboard's top; E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd,

And there a favorite hoaril you 'll find within, And dip his tongue in gore? The beast of prey, Companions meet! the julep and the vin. Blood-stained, deserves to bleed ; but you, ye Hlocks,

Observe what ills to nervous females flow, What have ye done ? ye peaceful people, what, when the heart flutters and the pulse is low : To merit death ? you who have given us milk If once induced these cordial sips to try, In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat All feel the ease, and few the danger fly; Against the winter's cold? And the plain ox, For, while obtained, of drams they 've all the That harmless, honest, guileless animal, In what has he offended ? he whose toil,

And when denied, then drams are the resource. Patient and ever-ready, clothes the land

Who would not lend a sympathizing sigh, With all the pomp of harvest, shall he bleed, To hear yon infant's pity-moving cry? And struggling groan beneath the cruel hand, Then the good nurse (who, had she borne a brain, Even of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps, Hed sought the cause that made her babe comTo swell the riot of the autumnal feast,

plain) Won by his labor ?

Has all her efforts, loving soul ! applied
JAMES THOMSON.

To set the cry, and not the cause, aside;

She gave her powerful sweet without remorse, QUACK MEDICINES.

The sleeping cordial, – she had tried its force, FROM "THE BOROUGH."

Repeating oft ; the infant, freed from pain,

Rejected food, but took the dose again, But now our Quacks are gamesters, and they sinking to sleep, while she her joy expressed, play

That her dear charge could sweetly take his rest With craft and skill to ruin and betray ;

Soon may she spare her cordial ; not a doubt With monstrous promise they delude the mind, Remains but quickly he will rest without. And thrive on all that tortures human-kind.

GEORGE CRABBE.

force,

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