To regulate my doubtful way,
Thro' life's perplexing road:
The mists of error to controul,
And thro' its gloom direct my soul
To happiness and good.

XVI.
Beneath her clear discerning eye
The visionary shadows fly
Of Folly's painted show.
She sees thro' ev'ry fair disguise,
That all but Virtue's solid joys,
Is vanity and woe.

[Facsimile of the music to "The Ode to Wisdom" (verse 14).]



LETTER XI

MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE, TO MISS HOWE
FRIDAY MIDNIGHT.


I have now a calmer moment. Envy, ambition, high and selfish resentment,
and all the violent passions, are now, most probably, asleep all around
me; and shall now my own angry ones give way to the silent hour, and
subside likewise?--They have given way to it; and I have made use of the
gentler space to re-peruse your last letters. I will touch upon some
passages in them. And that I may the less endanger the but-just