Each hero kifs'd his maid, and why, IV. Who knows? Perhaps Polly may be She has (I cannot doubt it) been Has chang❜d her fceptre for a broom. V. Ah! ceafe to think it---how can the, So heedless of amassing more, In all the circulating flood ? VI. But you, by carping at my fire, IDLE IDLENES S. ODE VII. Oddess of ease, leave Lethe's brink, G Obfequious to the Muse and me; For once endure the pain to think, Sifter of peace and indolence, Bring, Mufe, bring numbers foft and flow, Elaborately void of sense, And sweetly thoughtless let them flow. Near fome cowflip-painted mead, There let me doze out the dull hours, And under me let Flora fpread, Where, Philomel, your notes you breathe Still flow in unifon with thine. For thee, O Idleness, the woes Of life we patiently endure, Thou art the fource whence labour flows, We fhun thee but to make thee fure. For who'd fuftain war's toil and waste, Or who th' hoarse thund'ring of the sea, And find a pleasing end in thee. To the reverend and learned Dr. WEBSTER, Occafioned by his Dialogues on ANGER and FORGIVENESS. "T O DE V III. I. WAS when th' omniscient creative pow'r Great Mofes led away his chosen band; Then perfecution rag'd in heav'n's own cause, Where'er his legions chanc'd to ftray, Death and deftruction mark'd their bloody way; Immoderate was their rage, for mortal was their hate. II. II. But when the king of righteousness arose, Bright as the fun, but as the moon-beams mild; In paftoral fimplicity and peace, And fhew'd to men that face, which Mofes could not fee,. III. Well haft thou, WEBSTER, pictur'd christian love, But livid Envy would the light remove, Or croud thy portrait in a nook malign -- IV.. Oh hadft thou liv'd in better days than these,, And to deserve is all thy empty claim.. Elfe thou'dft been plac'd, by learning, and by wit,, Oh they are in their generation wife, Each path of intereft they have fagely trod,-- To live---to thrive---to rise---and still to rise--Better to bow to men, than kneel to God. V. Behold !---where poor unmanfion'd Merit ftands, And begs a little bread, but begs in vain ; "Away (they cry (we never faw thy name) Oh Indignation, wherefore wert thou given, ODE |