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fidered by the world, as I have a certain reafon to fufpect it hardly will, men would no longer reckon among their high points of wisdom the art of expofing weak fides, and publishing infirmities; an employment, in my opinion, neither better nor worse than that of unmasking, which I think has never been allowed fair usage, either in the world or the play-house.

In proportion that credulity is a more peaceful poffeffion of the mind than curiosity; so far preferable is that wisdom which converses about the surface, to that pretended philosophy, which enters into the depth of things, and then comes gravely back with informations and discoveries, that in the infide they are good for nothing. The two fenfes to which all objects first addrefs themselves, are the fight and the touch; these never examine farther than the colour, the shape, the fize, and whatever other qualities dwell, or are drawn by art upon the outward bodies; and then comes reafon officiously with tools for cutting and opening, and mangling, and piercing, offering to demonftrate, that they are not of the same consistence quite through. Now I take all this to be the last degree of perverting nature; one of whofe eternal laws it is to put her best furniture forward. And therefore, in order to fave the charges of all fuch expenfive anatomy for the time to come, I do here think fit to inform the reader, that, in such conclufions as thefe, reafon is certainly in the right; and that in most coporeal beings, which have fallen under my cognizance, the outside hath been infinitely preferable to the in whereof I have been farther convinced from fome late experiments. Last week I faw a woman flayed, and you will hardly believe how much it altered her perfon for the worse. Yesterday I ordered the carcase of a beau to be stripped in my presence, when we were all amazed to find fo many unfufpected faults under one fuit of cloaths. Then I laid open his brain, his heart and his fpleen; but I plainly perceived, at every operation, that the farther we proceeded, we found the defects increase upon us in number and bulk: from all which, 1 juftly formed this conclufion to myfelf; that whatever philofopher

or

or projector can find out an art to folder and patch up the flaws and imperfections of nature, will deferve much of mankind, and teach us more useful science; than that so much in present esteem, of widening and expofing them, like him, who held anatomy to be the ultimate end of phyfic. And he, whose fortunes and difpofitions have placed him in a convenient station to enjoy the fruits of this noble art; he that can with Epicurus content his ideas with the films and images, that fly off upon his fenfes from the fuperfices of things; fuch a man, truly wife, creams off nature, leaving the four and the dregs for philofophy and reafon to lap up. This is the fublime and refined point of felicity, called the poffeffion of being well deceived; the ferene peaceful state of being a fool among knaves.

A MO

A MONOD Y. A. D. 1740.

A

Ipfe cava folans aægrum teftudine amorem
Te dulcis conjux, te folo in littore fecum,
Te veniente die, te decedente canebat.

I.

T length efcap'd from ev'ry human eye.

From every duty, every care,

That in my mournful thoughts might claim a share,
Or force my tears their flowing ftream to dry,
Beneath the gloom of this embow'ring fhade,
This lone retreat, for tender forrow made,
I now may give my burden'd heart relief.

And pour forth all my ftores of grief,
Of grief furpaffing ev'ry other woe,
Far as the pureft blifs, the happiest love,
Can on th' ennobl'd mind beftow,

Exceeds the vulgar joys that move

Our grofs defires, inelegant and low.

11.

Ye tufted groves, ye gently falling rills,
Ye high o'er fhadowing hills,

Ye lawns gay-fmiling with eternal green,
Oft have you my Lucy feen!

But never shall you now behold her more:
Nor will the now with fond delight

And tafte refin'd your rural charms explore.

Clos'd

Clos'd are thofe beauteous eyes in endless night,
Those beauteous eyes where beaming us'd to thine
Reafon's pure light, and Virtue's spark divine.

III.

Oft would the Dryads of thefe woods rejoice
To hear her heav'nly voice;

For her defpifing, when she deign'd to fing,
The sweetest song fters of the fpring:
The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more;
The nightingale was mute,

And ev'ry thepherd's flute,

Was caft in filent fcorn away,

While all attended to her fweeter lay.

Ye larks and linnets now refume your fong,
And thou melodious Philomel,

Again thy plaintive story tell,

For death has ftopt that tuneful tongue, Whofe mufic could alone your warbling notes excel.

In vain I look around,

IV.

O'er all the well-known ground.

My Lucy's wonted footsteps to defcry;

Where oft we us'd to walk,

Where oft in tender talk

We faw the fummer fun go down the fky;

Nor by yon fountain's fide,

Nor where its waters glide

Along the valley, can fhe now be found:

In all the wide-ftretch'd profpect's ample bound

No more my mournful eye

Can aught of her efpy,

But the fad facred earth where her dear relics lie.

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V.

O fhades of H- -y, where is now your boast ?
Your bright inhabitant is loft.

You the preferr'd to all the gay reforts
Where female vanity might wish to shine,
The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts.
Her modeft beauties fhunn'd the public eye:
To your fequefter'd dales,

And flow'r-embroider'd vales,

From an admiring world the chose to fly;
With Nature there retir'd, and Nature's GoD,
The filent paths of Wisdom trod.

And bani'd ev'ry paffion from her breast,
But thofe, the gentleft and the beft,

Whofe holy flames with energy divine
The virtuous heart enliven and improve,
The conjugal and the maternal love.

VI.

Sweet babes, who like the little playful fawns,
Were wont to trip along thefe verdant lawns
By your delighted mother's fide,

Who now your infant fteps fhall guide?
Ah! where is now the hand whofe tender care
To every virtue would have form'd your youth.
And ftrew'd with flow'rs the thorny ways of truth
O lofs beyond repair!

O wretched Father left alone

To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own
How fhall thy weaken'd mind, opprefs'd with woe,
And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave,

Perform the duties that you doubly owe,

Now, fhe, alas! is gone,

From folly, and from vice, their helpless age to save

Where

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