death: mankind incensed,
Denies thee long to live: nor shalt thou rest,
When thou art dead; in Stygian shades arraign'd 1400
By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne;
And bold blasphemer of his friend,--the World;
The World, whose legions cost him slender pay,
And volunteers around his banner swarm; 1404
Prudent, as Prussia,[51] in her zeal for Gaul.
"Are all, then, fools?" Lorenzo cries.--Yes, all,
But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee);
"The mother of true wisdom is the will;"
The noblest intellect, a fool without it.
World-wisdom much has done, and more may do, 1410
In arts and sciences, in wars, and peace:
But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee,
And make thee twice a beggar at thy death.
This is the most indulgence can afford;--
"Thy wisdom all can do, but--make thee wise."
Nor think this censure is severe on thee;
Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. 1417

THE CONSOLATION:
CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS,
I. A MORAL SURVEY OF THE NOCTURNAL HEAVENS.
II. A NIGHT ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO HIS GRACE
THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE,
ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE.

Fatis contraria fata rependens.--Virg.

NIGHT NINTH.

THE CONSOLATION.

As when a traveller, a long day past
In painful search of what he cannot find,
At night's approach, content with the next cot,
There ruminates, a while, his labour lost;
Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords,
And chants his sonnet to deceive the time,
Till the due season calls him to repose:
Thus I, long-travell'd in the ways of men,
And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze,
Where Disappointment smiles at Hope's career; 10
Warn'd by the languor of life's evening ray,
At length have housed me in an humble shed;
Where, future wandering banish'd from my thought,
And waiting, patient, the sweet hour of rest,
I chase the moments with a serious song.
Song soothes our pains; and age has pains to soothe.
When age, care, crime, and friends embraced at heart,
Torn from my bleeding breast, and death's dark shad