Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. Warnings point out our danger; gnomons, time: As these are useless when the sun is set: 423 So those, but when more glorious reason shines. Reason should judge in all; in reason's eye, That sedentary shadow travels hard. But such our gravitation to the wrong, So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 'Tis later with the wise than he's aware: A Wilmington goes slower than the sun: And all mankind mistake their time of day; Even age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown In furrow'd brows. To gentle life's descent We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. We take fair days in winter, for the spring; 440 And turn our blessings into bane. Since oft Man must compute that age he cannot feel, He scarce believes he's older for his years. Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store One disappointment sure, to crown the rest; The disappointment of a promised hour. On this, or similar, Philander! thou, Whose mind was moral, as the preacher's tongue; And strong, to wield all science, worth the name; How often we talk'd down the summer's sun, 450 And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream! How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve, By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth, Best found, so sought; to the recluse more coy! Thoughts disentangle passing o'er the lip; Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away, Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song; Song, fashionably fruitless; such as stains The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires; Chiming her saints to Cytherea's[8] fane. 460 Know'st thou, Lorenzo! what a friend contains? 461 As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers, So men from friendship, wisdom and delight; Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die. Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach? Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up, want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied; Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too! Thought in the mine, may come forth gold, or dross; When coin'd in words, we know its real worth. 471 If sterling, store it for thy future use; 'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown. Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd; Teaching, we learn; and, giving, we retain The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot. Speech ventilates our intellectual fire; Speech burnishes our mental magazine; Brightens, for ornament; and whets, for use. What numbers, sheathed in erudition, lie, 480 Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes, And rusted in; who might have borne an edge, And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech; If born bless'd heirs of half their mother's tongue!