OF TEMPER.
55
Fierce mendicants! who strive some alms to win
From the fair stranger, with incessant din.
The guardian Spirit saw Serena grieve,
To hear of wants she knew not to relieve;
And to the generous nymph in pity cries:
"The gulf of Indolence before us lies,
O'er whose dull flood, to which no bank is seen,
A boat must waft thee to the dome of Spleen.
These pallid figures that around thee press,
And haunt thee with importunate distress,
On earth were beggars of each different class,
Tho' blended here in one promiscuous mass,
The poor, who spurn'd kind Industry's control,
The rich, who begg'd from penury of soul:
Both by their abject pride alike debas'd,
Blasphem'd that nature which they both disgrac'd,
And, hither by the sullen fiend convey'd,
Here still they ply their ineffectual trade;
In chase of each new passenger they run,
Condemn'd to beg from all, to gain by none.
From the fair stranger, with incessant din.
The guardian Spirit saw Serena grieve,
To hear of wants she knew not to relieve;
And to the generous nymph in pity cries:
"The gulf of Indolence before us lies,
O'er whose dull flood, to which no bank is seen,
A boat must waft thee to the dome of Spleen.
These pallid figures that around thee press,
And haunt thee with importunate distress,
On earth were beggars of each different class,
Tho' blended here in one promiscuous mass,
The poor, who spurn'd kind Industry's control,
The rich, who begg'd from penury of soul:
Both by their abject pride alike debas'd,
Blasphem'd that nature which they both disgrac'd,
And, hither by the sullen fiend convey'd,
Here still they ply their ineffectual trade;
In chase of each new passenger they run,
Condemn'd to beg from all, to gain by none.
