Of thirty-six and thirty-eight; Pursue your trade of scandal-picking, Your hints that Stella is no chicken; 40 Your inuendos, when you tell us That Stella loves to talk with fellows; And let me warn you to believe A truth, for which your soul should grieve; That, should you live to see the day 45 When Stella’s locks must all be grey, When age must print a furrowed trace On every feature of her face; Though you, and all your senseless tribe, Could art, or time, or nature bribe, 50 To make you look like Beauty’s Queen, And hold for ever at fifteen; No bloom of youth can ever blind The cracks and wrinkles of your mind: All men of sense will pass your door, 55 And crowd to Stella’s at fourscore. _Jonathan Swift._ CXXXVII _ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS AND LEARNING IN AMERICA._ The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime Barren of every glorious theme, In distant lands now waits a better time, Producing subjects worthy fame. In happy climes, where from the genial sun 5 And virgin earth such scenes ensue, The force of art by nature seems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true. In happy climes, the seat of innocence, Where nature guides, and virtue rules, 10 Where men shall not impose for truth and sense The pedantry of courts and schools. There shall be sung another Golden Age, The rise of empire and of arts, The good and great inspiring epic rage, 15 The wisest heads and noblest hearts: Not such as Europe breeds in her decay; Such as she bred when fresh and young, When heavenly flame did animate her clay, By future poets shall be sung. 20 Westward the course of empire take its way; The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day; Time’s noblest offspring is the last. _George Berkeley._ CXXXVIII _THE LAWYER’S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE._