MAN SPEAKER.
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he praise attending pomp and power,The incense given to kings,Are but the trappings of an hour—Mere transitory things!The base bestow them: but the good agree 10To spurn the venal gifts as flattery.But when to pomp and power are join’dAn equal dignity of mind—When titles are the smallest claim—When wealth and rank and noble blood, 15But aid the power of doing good—Then all their trophies last; and flattery turns to fame. Bless’d spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloomShall spread and flourish from the tomb,How hast thou left mankind for heaven! 20Even now reproach and faction mourn.And, wondering how their rage was borne,Request to be forgiven.Alas! they never had thy hate:Unmov’d in conscious rectitude, 25Thy towering mind self-centred stood,Nor wanted man’s opinion to be great.In vain, to charm thy ravish’d sight,A thousand gifts would fortune send;In vain, to drive thee from the right, 30A thousand sorrows urg’d thy end:Like some well-fashion’d arch thy patience stood,And purchas’d strength from its increasing load.Pain met thee like a friend that set thee free;Affliction still is virtue’s opportunity! 35Virtue, on herself relying,Ev’ry passion hush’d to rest,Loses ev’ry pain of dyingIn the hopes of being blest.Ev’ry added pang she suffers 40Some increasing good bestows,Ev’ry shock that malice offersOnly rocks her to repose. SONG. BY A MAN—AFFETTUOSO. Virtue, on herself relying,Ev’ry passion hush’d to rest, 45Loses ev’ry pain of dyingIn the hopes of being blest. Ev’ry added pang she suffersSome increasing good bestows,Ev’ry shock that malice offers, 50Only rocks her to repose.
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