XI.

You know, that Virtue's basis lies
In ever judging right;

And wiping Error's clouds away,
Which dim the mental sight.

XII.

Why mourn the dead? you wrong the grave,

From storm that safe resort;

We are still tossing out at sea,

Our admiral in port.

XIII.

Was death deny'd, this world a scene

How dismal and forlorn!

To death we owe, that 'tis to man

A blessing to be born!

XIV.

When ev'ry other blessing fails,
Or sapp'd by slow decay,

Or storm'd by sudden blasts of fate,
Is swiftly hurl'd away;

XV.

How happy! that no storm, or time,

Of death can rob the just;

None pluck from their unaching heads

Soft pillows in the dust!

XVI.

Well-pleas'd to bear Heav'n's darkest frown,
Your utmost pow'r employ ;

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60

And thou! its great inhabitant!

How glorious dost thou shine!

And dart thro' sorrow, danger, death,
A beam of joy divine.

XX.

The void of joy (with some concern
The truth severe I tell)

Is an impenitent in guilt,
A fool or infidel.

XXI.

Weigh this, ye pupils of V---taire !
From joyless murmur free;

Or, let us know, which character
Shall crown you of the three.

XXII.

Resign, resign: this lesson none
To deeply can instill;

A crown has been resign'd by more
Than have resign'd the will;

XXIII.

Tho' will resign'd the meanest makes

Superior in renown,

90

And richer in celestial eyes

Than he who wears a crown.

XXIV.

Hence in the bosom of cold age

Is kindled a strange aim

To shine in song, and bid me boast
The grandeur of my theme:

XXV.

But, oh! how far presumption falls

Its lofty theme below!

Our thoughts in life's December freeze,
And numbers cease to flow.

XXVI.

First! Greatest! Best! grant what I wrote

For others, ne'er may rise

To brand the writer; thou alone

Canst make our wisdom wise.

XXVII.

And how unwise, how deep in guilt,

How infamous the fault,

100

"A teacher thron'd in pomp of words,

"In deed beneath the taught!"

XXVIII.

Means most infallibly to make

The world an infidel,

And with instructions most divine
To pave a path to hell.

XXIX.

O for a clean and ardent heart!

O for a soul on fire!

Thy praise, begun on earth, to sound
Where angels string the lyre!

XXX.

How cold is man! to him how hard,

(Hard what most easy seems)

"To set a just esteem on that

"Which yet he------most esteems,"

XXXI.

What shall we say, when boundless bliss

Is offer'd to mankind,

And to that offer when a race.

Of rationals is blind?

XXXII.

Of human nature, ne'er too high
Are our ideas wrought;
Of human merit, ne'er too low
Depress'd the daring thought.

rio

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128

ON THE

DEATH OF QUEEN ANNE,

AND THE

ACCESSION OF KING GEORGE.

Inscribed to

JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ.

Secretary to their Excellencies the Lords Justices, in the

SIR! I have long, and with impatience, sought
To ease the fulness of my grateful thought,
My fame at once and duty to pursue,

And please the publick by respect to you.

Tho' you, long since beyond Britannia known,
Have spread your country's glory with your own,
To me you never did more lovely shine,
Than when so late the kindled wrath divine
Quench'd our ambition in great Anna's fate,
And darken'd all the pomp of human state.
Tho' you are rich in fame, and fame decay,
Tho' rais'd in life, and greatness fade away,
Your lustre brightens; virtue cuts the gloom
With purer rays, and sparkles near a tomb.
Volume IV.

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