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To WISDOM.
Dona præſentis rape lœtus horæ ac
Linque ſevera.
Horat.
O Wisdom! if thy ſoft controul
Can ſooth the ſickneſs of the ſoul,
Can bid the warring paſſions ceaſe,
And breathe the calm of tender peace,
Wisdom! I bleſs thy gentle ſway,
And ever, ever will obey.
But if thou com'ſt with frown auſtere
To nurſe the brood of care and fear;
To bid our ſweeteſt paſſions die,
And leave us in their room a ſigh;
O
