"Mean time, noise kills not. Be it dapple's bray,
“Or be it not, or be it whose it may,

"And rush those other sounds, that seem by tongues
"Of demons utter'd, from whatever lungs,
"Sounds are but sounds, and till the cause appear,
"We have at least commodicus standing here;
"Come fiend, come fury, giant, mónster, blast
"From earth or hell, we can but plunge at last.”
While thus she spake, I fainter heard the peals,
For reynard, close attended at his heels

By panting dog, tir'd man, and spatter'd horse,
Through mere good fortune took a diff'rent course:
The flock grew calm again, and I, the road
Foll'wing that led me to my own abode,
Much wonder'd that the silly sheep had found
Such cause of terrour in an empty sound,
So sweet to huntsman, gentleman, and hound

MORAL.

Beware of desp'rate steps. The darkest day (Live till to morrow) will have pass'd away.

COWPER.

CHAP. XXV.

THE MODERN RAKE'S PROGRESS.

THE Young Tobias was his father's joy ;
He train'd him, as he thought, to deeds of praise,
He taught him virtue, and he taught him truth,
And sent him early to a public school.
Here as it seem'd (but he had none to blame)
Virtue forsook him, and habitual vice
Grew in her stead. He laugh'd at honesty,
Became a sceptic, and could raise a doubt
E'en of his father's truth. 'Twas idly done
To tell him of another world, for wits
Knew better; and the only good on earth
Was pleasure; not to follow that was sin.
"Sure he that made us, made us to enjoy ;

"And why," said he, " should my fond father prate "Of virtue and religion? They afford

"No joys, and would abridge the scanty few

"Of nature. Nature be my deity,

"Her let me worship, as herself enjoins,

"At the full board of plenty." Thoughtless boy!
So to a libertine he grew, a wit,

A man of honour, boastful empty names
That dignify the villain. Seldom seen,
And when at home under a cautious mask
Concealing the lewd soul, his father thought
He grew in wisdom, as he
grew in years.
He fondly deem'd he could perceive the growth
Of goodness and of learning shooting up,
Like the young offspring of the shelter'd hop,
Unusual progress in a summer's night.

He call'd him home, with great applause dismiss'd
By his glad tutors-gave him good advice-
Bless'd him, and bade him prosper.

With warm heart

He drew his purse-strings, and the utmost doit

Pour'd in the youngster's palm. "Away," he cries,
"Go to the seat of learning, boy. Be good,
"Be wise, be frugal, for 'tis all I can."

"I will," said Toby, as he bang'd the door,
And wink'd, and snapp'd his finger, "Sir, I will."
So joyful he to Alma Mater went
A sturdy freshman. See him just arriv'd,
Receiv'd, matriculated, and resolv'd

To drown his freshness in a pipe of port.
"Quick, Mr. Vintner, twenty dozen more;

"Some claret, too. Here's to our friends at home.
"There let them dose. Be it our nobler aim
"To live-where stands the bottle?"

Hies the gay spark for futile purposes,

Then to town

And deeds my bashful muse disclaims to name.
From town to college, till a fresh supply
Sends him again from college up to town.
The tedious interval the mace and cue,
The tennis-court and racket, the slow lounge
From street to street, the badger-hunt, the race,
The raffle, the excursion, and the dance,

Ices and soups, and dice, the bet at whist,
Serve well enough to fill. Grievous accounts
The weekly post to the vex'd parent brings
Of college impositions, heavy dues,
Demands enormous, which the wicked son
Declares he does his utmost to prevent.

So, blaming with good cause the vast expense,
Bill after bill he sends, and pens the draught
Till the full inkhorn fails. With grateful heart
Toby receives, short leave of absence begs,
Obtains it by a lie, gallops away,

And no one knows what charming things are doing,
Till the gull'd boy returns without his pence,
And prates of deeds unworthy of a brute:
Vile deeds, but such as in these polish'd days
None blames or hides.

So Toby fares, nor heeds

Till terms are wasted, and the proud degree,
Soon purchas'd, comes his learned toils to crown.
He swears, and swears he knows not what, nor cares,
Becomes a perjur'd graduate, and thinks soon
To be a candidate for orders.

Ah!

Vain was the hope. Though many a wolf as fell
Deceive the shepherd, and devour the flock,
Thou none shalt injure. On a luckless day,
Withdrawn to taste the pleasures of the town,
Heated with wine, a vehement dispute
With a detested rival shook the roof:
He penn'd a challenge, sent it, fought, and fell.

HURDIS

[61]

BOOK III.

Didactic Pieces.

I

CHAP. I.

ON MODESTY.

KNOW no two words, that have been more abused by the different and wrong interpretations which are put upon them than these two, Modesty and Assurance. To say, such a oneis a modest man, sometimes indeed passes for a good character; but at present is very often used to signify a sheepish awkward fellow, who has neither good-breeding, politeness, nor any knowledge of the world.

Again, a man of assurance, though at first it only denoted a person of a free and open carriage, is now very usually applied to a profligate wretch, who can break through all the rules of decency and morality without a blush.

I shall endeavour, therefore, in this essay, to restore these words to the true meaning, to prevent the idea of modesty from being confounded with that of sheepishness, and to hinder impudence from passing for assurance.

If I was put to define modesty, I would call it, 'The reflection of an ingenuous mind, either when a man has committed an action for which he censures himself, or fancies that he is exposed to the censure of others.

For this reason a man truly modest is as much so when he is alone as in company, and as subject to a blush in his closet, as when the eyes of multitudes are upon him.

I do not remember to have met with any instance of modesty with which I am so well pleased, as that celebrated one of the young prince, whose father, being a tributary king to the Romans, had severa! complaints laid against him before the senate, as a tyrant and oppressor of his subjects. The prince went to Rome to defend his father, but coming into the senate, and hearing a multitude of crimes proved upon him, was so oppressed when it came to his turn to speak, that he was unable to utter a word. The story tells us, that the fathers were more moved at this instance of modesty and ingenuousness, than they could have been by the most pathetic oration; and, in short, pardoned the guilty father for this early promise of virtue in the son.

I take assurance to be, The faculty of possessing a man's self, or of saying and doing indifferent things without any uneasiness or emotion in the mind. That which generally gives a man assurance is a moderate knowledge of the world, but above all, a mind fixed and determined in itself to do nothing against the rules of honour and decency. An open and assured behaviour is the natural consequence of such a resolution. A man thus armed, if his words or actions are at any time misinterpreted, retires within himself, and from a consciousness of his own integrity assumes force enough, to despise the little censures of ignorance or malice.

Every one ought to cherish and encourage in himself the modesty and assurance I have here mentioned.

A man without assurance is liable to be made uneasy by the folly or ill nature of every one he converses with. A man without modesty is lost to all sense of honour and virtue.

It is more than probable, that the prince above-mentioned possessed both these qualifications in a very eminent degree. Without assurance he would never have undertaken to speak before the most august assembly in the world; without modesty he would have pleaded the cause he had taken upon him, though it had appeared ever so scandalous.

From what has been said, it is plain, that modesty and assurance are both amiable, and may very well meet in the same person. When they are thus mixed and blended together, they compose what we endeavour to express when