35 Down from his orb a vivid influence ftreams, 40 My lov'd Hill, O thou by heaven defign'd To charm, to mend, and to adorn mankind! To thee my hopes, fears, joys, and forrows tend, Thou brother, father, nearer yet! thou friend! If worldly friendships oft cement, divide, 10 O fay, my Hill, in what propitious fphere, Oft when you faw my youth wild error know, You call'd my lays and wrongs to early fame; From you fhall never, but with life, remove Afpiring genius, condefcending love. When fome, with cold, fuperior looks, redress, 15 20 25 30 35 All All-winning mild to each of lowly state; To equals free, unfervile to the great; 40 Greatness you honour, when by worth acquir'd; O trace that friend with me!-he's yours!—he's mine! The world's beneficent behold him fhine! Is wealth his fphere? If riches, like a tide, The weeping family of want and woe. Is knowledge his? Benevolently great, In leisure active, and in care fedate; With modest truth he fets the wandering right, In love diffufive, as in light refin'd, The liberal emblem of his Maker's mind. 50 55 60 Is power his orb? He then, like power divine, 65 On all, though with a varied ray, will shine. Ere Ere power was his, the man, he once carefs'd, His friend, unequal to th’incumbent weight? 70 75 Should e'er his country, for dominion's prize, Against the fons of men a faction rife, The friend of truth; the friend of human race. Thus to no one, no fect, no clime confin'd, His boundless love embraces all mankind; 85 These are the lights, where stands that friend confeft; This, this the fpirit, which informs thy breast. Through fortune's cloud thy genuine worth can fhine; What would't thou not, were wealth and greatness thine AN A N EPISTLE MR. AUTHOR N TO JOHN DYER, In Anfwer to his from the Country †. OW various birds in melting concert fing, And hail the beauty of the opening fpring: Now to thy dreams the nightingale complains, Till the lark wakes thee with her cheerful trains ; Wakes, in thy verse and friendship ever kind, Melodious comfort to my jarring mind. 5 Oh could my foul through epths of knowledge fee, Could I read nature and mankind like thee, I fhould o'ercome, or bear the fhocks of fate, And e'en draw envy to the humbleft state. Thou canst raise honour from each ill event, From fhocks gain vigour, and from want content. Think not light poetry my life's chief care! The Mufe's manfion is, at best, but air; But, if more folid works my meaning forms, Th' unfinish'd ftructures fall by fortune's ftorms. Oft have I faid we falfely thofe accufe, Whose god-like fouls life's middle state refuse. Self-love, I cry'd, there seeks ignoble reft; 15 Care fleeps not calm, when millions wake unbleft; 20 M t See Dyer's Poems. Mean |