Is but a younger branch that kills from these. One to the gout contracts all human pain; He views it raging in the frantic brain; 400 Finds it in fevers all his efforts mar, And sees it lurking in the cold catarrh. Bilious by some, by others nervous seen, Rage the fantastic demons of the spleen; And every symptom of the strange disease With every system of the sage agrees. Ye frigid tribe, on whom I wasted long The tedious hours, and ne'er indulged in song; Ye first seducers of my easy heart, Who promised knowledge ye could not impart; 410 Ye dull deluders, truth's destructive foes; Ye sons of fiction, clad in stupid prose; Ye treacherous leaders, who, yourselves in doubt, Light up false fires, and send us far about-- Still may yon spider round your pages spin, Subtile and slow, her emblematic gin! Buried in dust and lost in silence, dwell; Most potent, grave, and reverend friends--farewell! Near these, and where the setting sun displays Through the dim window his departing rays, 420 And gilds yon columns, there, on either side, The huge abridgments of the LAW abide. Fruitful as vice the dread correctors stand, And spread their guardian terrors round the land; Yet, as the best that human care can do, Is mix'd with error, oft with evil too, Skill'd in deceit, and practised to evade, Knaves stand secure, for whom these laws were made; And justice vainly each expedient tries, While art eludes it, or while power defies. 430 "Ah! happy age," the youthful poet sings, "When the free nations knew not laws nor kings; When all were bless'd to share a common store, And none were proud of wealth, for none were poor; No wars nor tumults vex'd each still domain, No thirst of empire, no desire of gain; No proud great man, nor one who would be great, Drove modest merit from its proper state; Nor into distant climes would avarice roam, To fetch delights for luxury at home: 440 Bound by no ties which kept the soul in awe, They dwelt at liberty, and love was law!" "Mistaken youth! each nation first was rude, Each man a cheerless son of solitude, To whom no joys of social life were known; None felt a care that was not all his own; Or in some languid clime his abject soul Bow'd to a little tyrant's stern control; A slave, with slaves his monarch's throne he raised, And in rude song his ruder idol praised; 450 The meaner cares of life were all he knew; Bounded his pleasures, and his wishes few. But when by slow degrees the Arts arose, And Science waken'd from her long repose; When Commerce, rising from the bed of ease, Ran round the land, and pointed to the seas; When Emulation, born with jealous eye, And Avarice, lent their spurs to industry; Then one by one the numerous laws were made,