7160] ANNUAL REGISTER, 1795. 
The weed ambition ’midst your furrow’d field 
Springs not, and av’rice little root can find : 
Content with what the changing seasons yield, 
You rest in cheerful poverty resign’d. 
What the heart thinks the tongue may here disclose, 
Nor inward grief with outward smiles is drest ; 
Not like the world, where wisest he who knows 
To hide the secret closest in his breast.” 
The Author calls upon the Faculties of his own Mind to exert themselves te 
great and useful Purposes. By Wm. Roscoe. From the same. 
nh from thy trance, my slumb’ring genius Frise, _ ; 
That shrouds from Truth’s pure beam thy torpid eyes - 
Awake, and see, since reason gave the rein 
To low desire, thy ev’ry work how vain. 
Ah think that bliss the mind explores, 
In futile honours, or unbounded stores : 
How poor the bait that would thy steps decoy 
To sensual pleasure and unmeaning joy ! 
Rouse all thy pow’rs for better use design’d, 
And know thy native dignity of mind : 
Not for low aims and mortal triumphs given— 
Its means exertion, and its object Heaven. 
Hast thou not yet the dit’rence understood 
*Twixt empty pleasure and substantial good ?— 
Not more oppos’d, by all the wise confest, ~ 
The rising Orient from the farthest west. 
Doom’d from thy youth the galling chain to-prove 
Of potent beauty and imperious love ; 
Their tyrant rule has blighted all thy time, 
And marr’d the promise of thy early prime. 
Tho’ Beauty’s garb thy wond’ring gaze may win, 
¥et know, that walves—that harpies dwell within. 
Ah think how fair thy better hopes had sped, 
Thy widely-erring steps had reason led ; 
Think, if thy timea nobler use had known, 
Ere this the glorious prize had been thine own ; 
Kind to thyself, thy clear’ discerning will, 
Had wisely learn’d to sever good from ili. 
Thy spring-tide hours consum’d in vain delight, 
Shall the same follies close thy wintry night: 
With vain pretexts of Beauty’s potent charms, 
And Nature’s frailty blunting Reason’s arms. 
At 
