"So strong the passions of the human mind,
To truth reluctant, and to reason blind;
These rules, compar'd with feal life, must seem
All airy visions, and an empty dream :
For when a plan of conduct we would draw,
That dares the critic's eye to show a flaw,
Fancy may wish its antitype to see,
And feast upon its charms in theory;
Yet still in practice all our hopes are vain,
To realize this image of the brain."
Thus, foe to nature, spoke the gloomy sage;
But let his labor'd lines inform the page;
Let him exhaust his genius to display,
Truth's pleasant path, and virtue's peaceful way:
Each moral rule with energy dispense,
That forms the conduct, or improves the sense :
Still must philosophy renounce the prize,
Still nature must to art superior rise;
For nature now triumphantly can shew
A living instance of those rules in You.
READ here the pangs of unsuccessful Love;
And oh! let pity your soft bosoms move.
Whilst Hammond, hapless youth! for Delia burns,
The plaintive Muse in sweetest accents mourns:
What Belle so savage, but their force must own?
What heart that melts not, but an heart of stone?
Read then, and listen to the Muse's voice: Let this example sanctify your choice. When the fond youth his passion strives to prove, By Hammond's symptoms try the force of love: Mark well the speaking eye, th' impassion'd tear, The pulse quick-throbbing, and the sigh sincere. Then, then be banish'd every meaner guest, Nor avarice, nor ambition, fire your breast.
Ye fairer Delias! choose the better part,
Nor slight the youth who gives you all his heart;
But crown with mutual love the generous flame,
And happier Hammonds shall record your name.
THE Poets (fabling tribe!) aver,
That once the ruthless God of War,
(Who, bred amid the din of arms,
Defy'd the power of Beauty's charms,
And long had, proudly, scorn'd to wear
The pleasing fetters of the Fair)
Struck with the graceful air and mien,
And roseate bloom of Cyprus' Queen;
His savage fierceness all forbore,
Subdued by Venus' magic lore;
And soon became, her power to prove,
A convert to the force of Love.
The wily Goddess then, 'tis said, All with an heavenly-temper'd braid
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