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WHEELING REPOSITORY. (VOL. I.) Thursday, 23d July 1807^ (No. 21.) OR1G I .VA L POE TR 2'. Epistles. 7 k a Frlctul in England.—[Continued.] ’i lins joking on our hackneys—Fancy— (behind the, prylhcc, bring up Nancy, i nless, like we, to rambling prone, She keep a paltry of her own—) ''■Veil sometimes meet in Codtncighfihire, and bait on uncle Jemmv’s cheer ; Or, press'd by Anna, stay and dine, An L take a glass of Ginger wine. • Perhaps at dusk Philemon may v C dl in, in his accustomed way, J’»et tt an argument or two, Ai. . quote some lines as many do ;— V. at not like same toshewwhat knowledge ' u. issue piping hot from College,— Or such as think pedantic clack worth Mure than the plain good sense of A ck Ph 1 rather likes, 1 think, to cite [worth: Th : best of what good authors w rite, \t d merely then t’elucidate hie very question in debate. Or l ack with their opinions /;\s,— whxh ends my long parenthesis. Twho else \ /-chance frie nd Charles may conn-,anil C.ui he more pri'/.M ? Who add more To LIonversnticn’sstock? lie tray [jewels Good sense in a more artless way ? <» mow .» better choice of reading, fan h upright tho’ts, or prettier breeding? dome other neighbours too may stop, Tit some shrewd observation drop, Imp ut the news,the fire stir up, Or r.ans fa^on remain to sup. 0 il 1 w’nat are Fashion’s boobies at, ; o miss these charms of scm ial chat, hi; smiles of Love, the f riendly dish, deuson’il with every one’s best wish?— 1 'o dslw homi’t pass theirdays with ease, VV 11 pleas’d, ii willing so to please. Thieve one who has spent much time, ’a running on from clime to clime, 1 a ■ arch of what lie cannot find— O.i ■ perfectly contented mind ;— Trn world, if an exterior bliss L vhat we may expect in this, The world, in all its spacious round, Has no such pleasure to he found, As mine, mv friend, if I might be Restored to your snug Coterie. —Perhaps I err. ’Tis said that Taste Will loathe what once it had embraced, And mortals, gorged, abroad will range 1‘ or joys which only please bv—change. I5ut Burke the matter lias defin’d, And mark’d a standard for the mind, An universal Taste, which proves 1 hat \\ hat one loves another loves, And shews, in logic clear as dttv, i hut xvhat one loves, one always may. [chime) For since (to chip Burke’s scheme to i 1 rom Pain alone flows all sublime, I AndAVu’v/i/must from Pleasure spring, Taste cannot be a fickle thing. Ergo, ail men are pleas’d, forsooth, With what is bright, fresh, sweet, soft, smooth, And shun (like sheep in the same track) Flu* rough, harsh, bit\ stale, and black: [h or these fix’d ina'rk , when founds will And make all like,or : -e dislike, f strike. And l-.tste, oi true zgnettc worth, ? Will still be pointing:’wards its North,— Or rather like our hearts, more true, Ne’er vary from its number two, Atul shun (mark the : tbiime, pray)ahun I he Selfi- nness of is ruber ont.—j And therefore f, w h- • L've is chaste A id mo'lellM by tht plump-line Taste, (Since Morals are b yond dispute Arts’ sis:- r-branch at Beauty’s root) Shall ever be attach’d to thee, Thy friends, and thy dear family, That little circle, lovely train ! hind, Cheerful, tender, mild and plain. What says my friend ?—that I misquote The laws which your Longinus wrote ? II so, I pr’ythee turn to Burke, A nd read,‘for thou canst read,’ his work. Will ho not rather sav. how dull The subject grows, though Beautiful ? Less sanguine, will he say that I I host charms am apt to magnify, Perhaps create, by distance blind, W bich he so near them cannot find/* — Ah ! my dear Joseph may, I know, / here iecl the withering touch of Woe; Because, perhaps, inactive life Denies the blessing of—a Wife ; Cramps his exertions; or, perhaps— But happiness has hydra-gaps Which my Peru apsf.s cannot stop, And so I let the trowel drop, Owning that ’causes without end, Maij mar the comforts of my friend : Nor his alone—each age and sex Has bosom sorrows to perplex : E’en murm’ring I my state deplore, And midst some blessings sigh for more;. And xoho is so exempt from Pain,' As never, never to complain ? Where do we find no tracks of woe ? No breast that throbs, no tears that flow? In every town—in evc*ry street, Mourners, afflicted mourners meet; And Pain delights his traits to trace,. With burning brand, in every face. Nay f if that man Were ever known, W ho had no troubles of his own, Supreme in wretchedness were he, The child of Infelicity,— A monstrous thing of spurious birth, Mo fit inhabitant of earth.* Vv by then , O why complains my friend? Tins blast of life must shortly end ? This crazy shell, this fibrous crust, Soon crack and crumble into dust. 1 hen shall th’ethereal tenant claim A mansion of less fragile frame, And like our brother moth, the mind Shall leave its name and filth behind. Then let us for the moment steer,. ’ I wixt fev’rish Hope and aguish Tear, (V outh’s Scylla and Charybdis, rife With dangers in the Straits of Life;) Give Fancy’s tools up ; cease to gild I hose airy castles which we build ; Leave things behind, eye Virtue’s goal, And watch the bins of the soul. The Now, th’important Novj alone, We men of clay can call our own * And it, alas ! however spent, Is but a loant and merely lent For his own use, behoof, and praise, Whose goodness length ns it to days. [To be continued.'] Erratum —In the Fpiftle to a friend in En gland, in uu<- fort numbm *oth line from the bottom of the aJ column, for face read pace. * If ye be without chaftifuncDt, flee. litb. kHA