And bear the marks upon a blufhing face
Of needlefs fhame and felf-impofed difgrace.
Our fenfibilities are fo acute,
The fear of being filent makes us mute.
We fometimes think we could a speech produce
Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose,
But being tied, it dies upon the lip,
Faint as a chicken's note that has the pip:
Our wafted oil unprofitably burns
Like hidden lamps in old fepulchral urns.
Few Frenchmen of this evil have complained,
It seems as if we Britons were ordained
By way of wholesome curb upon our pride,
To fear each other, fearing none befide.
The caufe perhaps enquiry may descry,
Self-searching with an introverted eye,
Concealed within an unfufpected part,
The vaineft corner of our own vain heart:
For ever aiming at the world's efteem,
Our felf-importance ruins its own scheme,
eyes our talents rarely shown,
Become at length fo fplendid in our own,
We dare not rifque them into public view,
Left they miscarry of what feems their due.
True modesty is a difcerning grace,
And only blushes in the proper place,
But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear,
Where 'tis a fhame to be ashamed t'appear;
Humility the parent of the first,
The laft by vanity produced and nurst.
The circle formed we fit in filent ftate,
Like figures drawn upon a dial-plate,
Yes ma'am, and no ma'am, utter'd foftly, fhow
Ev'ry five minutes how the minutes go;
Each individual fuffering a constraint
Poetry may, but colours cannot paint,
As if in close committee on the sky,
Reports it hot or cold, or wet or dry;
And finds a changing clime, an happy fource
Of wife reflection and well-timed difcourfe,
We next enquire, but foftly and by stealth, Like confervators of the public health,
Of epidemic throats if such there are,
And coughs and rheums and phtific and catarrh. That theme exhaufted, a wide chafm enfues, Filled up at last with interefting news,
Who danced with whom, and who are like to wed,
And who is hanged, and who is brought to bed,
But fear to call a more important cause,
As if 'twere treafon against English laws.
The vifit paid, with extafy we come
As from a feven years tranfportation, home,
And there refume an unembarrass'd brow,
Recov'ring what we loft we know not how,
The faculties that feem'd reduc'd to nought,
Expreffion and the privilege of thought.
The reeking roaring hero of the chafe,
I give him over as a defp'rate cafe.
Phyficians write in hopes to work a cure,
Never, if honeft ones, when death is fure
And though the fox he follows may be tamed,
A mere fox-follower never is reclaimed.
Some farrier should prefcribe his proper course,
Whofe only fit companion is his horse,
Or if deferving of a better doom
The noble beast judge otherwife, his groom.
Yet ev❜n the rogue that ferves him, though he stand
To take his honour's orders cap in hand,
Prefers his fellow-grooms with much good fenfe,
Their skill a truth, his mafter's a pretence.
If neither horse nor groom affect the 'fquire,
Where can at last his jockeyship retire?
Oh to the club, the scene of favage joys,
The school of coarse good fellowship and noife;
There in the sweet society of those
Whose friendship from his boyish years he chofe,
Let him improve his talent if he can,
'Till none but beafts acknowledge him a man.
Man's heart had been impenetrably fealed,
Like theirs that cleave the flood or graze the field,
Had not his Maker's all-bestowing hand
Giv'n him a foul and bade him understand.
The reas'ning pow'r vouchfafed of course inferred
The pow'r to cloath that reafon with his word,
For all is perfect that God works on earth,
And he that gives conception, adds the birth.
If this be plain, 'tis plainly understood
What uses of his boon the Giver would.
The mind difpatched upon her busy toil
Should range where Providence has bleft the foil,
Vifiting ev'ry flow'r with labour meet,
And gathering all her treafures fweet by fweet,
She should imbue the tongue with what fhe fips,
And shed the balmy bleffing on the lips,
That good diffufed may more abundant grow,
And fpeech may praise the pow'r that bids it flow.
Will the sweet warbler of the live-long night
That fills the lift'ning lover with delight,
Forget his harmony with rapture heard,
To learn the twitt'ring of a meaner bird,
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