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Frefh'ning his lazy fpirits as he ran,
Unfolded genially and spread the man ;
Returning he proclaims by many a grace,
By fhrugs and ftrange contortions of his face,
How much a dunce that has been fent to roam,
Excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
Accomplishments have taken virtue's place,
And wisdom falls before exterior grace;
We flight the precious kernel of the stone,
And toil to polish its rough coat alone.
A juft deportment, manners grac'd with eafe,
Elegant phrafe, and figure form'd to please,
Are qualities that seem to comprehend
Whatever parents, guardians, fchools intend;
Hence an unfurnish'd and a listless mind,
Though bufy, trifling; empty, though refin'd;
Hence all that interferes, and dares to clash
With indolence and luxury, is trash;

While learning, once the man's exclufive pride,
Seems verging faft towards the female fide.

Learning

Learning itself receiv'd into a mind
By nature weak, or viciously inclin'd,
Serves but to lead philofophers aftray,

Where children would with ease discern the
And of all arts fagacious dupes invent,

way,

To cheat themselves and gain the world's affent,
The worst is fcripture warp'd from its intent.
'The carriage bowls along and all are pleas'd
If Tom be fober, and the wheels well greas'd,
But if the rogue have gone a cup to far,

Left out his linch-pin, or forgot his tar,
It fuffers interruption and delay,

And meets with hindrance in the fmootheft
When fome hypothefis abfurd and vain

Has fill'd with all its fumes a critic's brain,

way.

The text that forts not with his darling whim,
Though plain to others, is obfcure to him.

The will made fubject to a lawless force,
All is irregular, and out of course;

And judgment drunk, and brib'd to lose his way,
Winks hard, and talks of darkness at noon-day.

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A critic

A critic on the facred book, fhould be

Candid and learn'd, difpaffionate and free ;
Free from the wayward bias bigots feel,
From fancy's influence, and intemp’rate zeal :
But above all, (or let the wretch refrain,
Nor touch the page he cannot but profane)
Free from the domineering pow'r of luft;
A lewd interpreter is never juft.

How fhall I fpeak thee, or thy pow'r addrefs,
Thou God of our idolatry, the prefs?

By thee, religion, liberty and laws,

Exert their influence, and advance their cause;

By thee, worfe plagues than Pharaoh's land befel,
Diffus'd, make earth the vestibule of hell:

Thou fountain, at which drink the good and wife,
Thou ever-bubbling fpring of endless lies,
Like Eden's dread probationary tree,
Knowledge of good and evil is from thee.

No wild enthufiaft ever yet could reft,

Till half mankind were like himself poffefs'd.

Philofophers

Philofophers, who darken and put out

Eternal truth by everlasting doubt,

Church quacks, with passions under no command,
Who fill the world with doctrines contraband,

Discov❜rers of they know not what, confin'd
Within no bounds, the blind that lead the blind,
To streams of popular opinion drawn,

Deposit in those fhallows, all their spawn.

The wriggling fry foon fill the creeks around,
Pois'ning the waters where their fwarms abound;
Scorn'd by the nobler tenants of the flood,

Minnows and gudgeons gorge th' unwholfome food.
The propagated myriads spread so fast,
E'en Leuwenhock himfelf would stand aghaft,
Employ'd to calculate th' enormous sum,
And own his crab-computing pow'rs o'ercome.
Is this Hyperbole? The world well known,
Your fober thoughts will hardly find it one.
Fresh confidence the speculatist takes
From ev'ry hair-brain'd profelyte he makes,

VOL. I.

F

And

And therefore prints. Himself but half deceiv'd,
'Till others have the foothing tale believ❜d.
Hence comment after comment, fpun as fine
As bloated spiders draw the flimfy line.
Hence the fame word that bids our lufts obey,
Is mifapplied to fanctify their fway.

If ftubborn Greek refuse to be his friend,

Hebrew or Syriac fhall be forc'd to bend;

If languages and copies all

cry, NoSomebody prov'd it centuries ago.

Like trout pursued, the critic in despair

Darts to the mud and finds his fafety there.
Women, whom custom has forbid to fly

The scholar's pitch (the scholar best knows why)
With all the fimple and unletter'd poor,

Admire his learning, and almost adore.

Whoever errs, the priest can ne'er be wrong,
With fuch fine words familiar to his tongue.

Ye ladies! (for indiff'rent in

your caufe,

I should deferve to forfeit all applause)

What

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