And him who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes unconscious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or useful sense.
Where aught of bright or fair the piece displays,
Approve it only--'tis too late to praise.
If want of skill, or want of care appear,
Forbear to hiss--the poet cannot hear.
By all like him must praise and blame be found,
At best a fleeting dream, or empty sound. 20
Yet then shall calm Reflection bless the night
When liberal Pity dignified delight;
When Pleasure fired her torch at Virtue's flame,
And Mirth was Bounty with an humbler name.

* * * * *


SPRING.

1 Stern Winter now, by Spring repress'd,
Forbears the long-continued strife;
And Nature, on her naked breast,
Delights to catch the gales of life.

2 Now o'er the rural kingdom roves
Soft Pleasure with her laughing train;
Love warbles in the vocal groves,
And Vegetation paints the plain.

3 Unhappy! whom to beds of pain