And Echo learns politely to repeat

The praise of names for ages obsolete ;

That having proved the weakness, it should seem,
Of revelation's ineffectual beam,

To bring the passions under sober sway,
And give the moral springs their proper play,
They mean to try what may at last be done,
By stout substantial gods of wood and stone,
And whether Roman rites may not produce
The virtues of old Rome for English use.
May such success attend the pious plan,
May Mercury once more embellish man,
Grace him again with long-forgotten arts,
Reclaim his taste, and brighten up his parts,
Make him athletic as in days of old,
Learn'd at the bar, in the palæstra bold,
Divest the rougher sex of female airs,
And teach the softer not to copy theirs :

The change shall please, nor shall it matter aught
Who works the wonder, if it be but wrought.

'Tis time, however, if the case stands thus,
For us plain folks, and all who side with us,
To build our altar, confident and bold,

And say, as stern Elijah said of old,

The strife now stands upon a fair award,

If Israel's Lord be God, then serve the Lord;
If he be silent, faith is all a whim,
Then Baal is the God, and worship him.

Digression is so much in modern use,
Thought is so rare, and fancy so profuse,
Some never seem so wide of their intent,
As when returning to the theme they meant;
As mendicants, whose business is to roam,
Make every parish but their own their home.

827

840

850

860

Though such continual zig-zags in a book,
Such drunken reelings, have an awkward look,
And I had rather creep to what is true,
Than rove and stagger with no mark in view;
Yet to consult a little, seem'd no crime,
The freakish humour of the present time.
But now to gather up what seems dispersed,
And touch the subject I design'd at first,
May prove, though much beside the rules of art,
Best for the public, and my wisest part.

And first, let no man charge me, that I mean
To clothe in sable every social scene,
And give good company a face severe,
As if they met around a father's bier;
For tell some men, that pleasure all their bent,
And laughter all their work, is life misspent,
Their wisdom bursts into this sage reply,
Then mirth is sin, and we should always cry.
To find the medium asks some share of wit,
And therefore 'tis a mark fools never hit.
But though life's valley be a vale of tears,
A brighter scene beyond that vale appears,
Whose glory, with a light that never fades,
Shoots between scatter'd rocks and opening shades ;
And, while it shows the land the soul desires,
The language of the land she seeks inspires.
Thus touch'd, the tongue receives a sacred cure
Of all that was absurd, profane, impure;
Held within modest bounds, the tide of speech
Pursues the course that Truth and Nature teach;
No longer labours merely to produce

The
pomp
of sound, or tinkle without use:
Where'er it winds, the salutary stream,

Sprightly and fresh, enriches every theme;

861

870

880

890

While all the happy man possess'd before,
The gift of nature, or the classic store,
Is made subservient to the grand design,
For which Heaven form'd the faculty divine.
So, should an idiot, while at large he strays,
Find the sweet lyre on which an artist plays,

With rash and awkward force the chords he shakes,
And grins with wonder at the jar he makes ;
But let the wise and well-instructed hand
Once take the shell beneath his just command,
In gentle sounds it seems as it complain'd
Of the rude injuries it late sustain'd,

"Till, tuned at length to some immortal song,

It sounds Jehovah's name, and pours his praise along.

895

900

RETIREMENT.

- studiis florens ignobilis otî.—VIRG. GEOR. Lib. iv.

THE ARGUMENT.

Retirement from busy life generally desired, 1-Rarely improved, 40-Happy, if consecrated to the service of God and to meditation on his works, 45Retirement favourable to spiritual improvement, 117-Panorama of human life, 147-Various motives for courting retirement, 169-The poet's motives, 187-The lover's, 219-Hypochondria, 279-Meets with little sympathy, 301-Cure to be sought in the favour of God, 343-The retired statesman, 365-His anticipations of enjoyment, 381-Set free from the cares of life, 391-Requires society, and selects a friend, 437-His employments begin to pall, 457-Returns to the world, 479-Suburban villas, 481-The citizen's idea of country life, 487-Seaside enjoyments, 515— The ocean, 525-The spendthrift's involuntary retirement, 559-The sportsman turned ostler, 575-Difficulty of managing leisure, 611-Its responsibilities, 649-Good books necessary to retirement, 683-Friends, 719-And divine communion, 743-Religion does not forbid harmless enjoyments, 783—The poet's own employment of retirement, 801.

HACKNEY'D in business, wearied at that oar
Which thousands, once fast chain'd to, quit no more,
But which, when life at ebb runs weak and low,
All wish, or seem to wish, they could forego;
The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade,
Pants for the refuge of some rural shade,
Where, all his long anxieties forgot
Amid the charms of a sequester'd spot,
Or recollected only to gild o'er,

And add a smile to what was sweet before,
He may possess the joys he thinks he sees,
Lay his old age upon the lap of ease,

10

Improve the remnant of his wasted span,
And, having lived a trifler, die a man.

Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast,
Though long rebell'd against, not yet suppress'd,
And calls a creature form'd for God alone,

For Heaven's high purposes, and not his own,
Calls him away from selfish ends and aims,
From what debilitates and what inflames,
From cities humming with a restless crowd,
Sordid as active, ignorant as loud,

Whose highest praise is that they live in vain,
The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain;
Where works of man are cluster'd close around,
And works of God are hardly to be found,
To regions where, in spite of sin and woe,
Traces of Eden are still seen below,
Where mountain, river, forest, field, and grove,
Remind him of his Maker's power and love.
"Tis well if, look'd for at so late a day,
In the last scene of such a senseless play,
True wisdom will attend his feeble call,
And grace his action ere the curtain fall.
Souls that have long despised their heavenly birth,
Their wishes all impregnated with earth,
For threescore years employ'd with ceaseless care
In catching smoke and feeding upon air,
Conversant only with the ways of men,
Rarely redeem the short remaining ten.
Inveterate habits choke the unfruitful heart,
Their fibres penetrate its tenderest part,
And, draining its nutritious powers to feed
Their noxious growth, starve every better seed.
Happy, if full of days-but happier far,

If, ere we yet discern life's evening star,