Samuel Johnson
¶[1709-1784]
On the Death of Dr. Robert Leve T
¶CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,As on we toil from day to day,By sudden blasts or slow declineOur social comforts drop away.
¶Well tried through many a varying year,See Levet to the grave descend,Officious, innocent, sincere,Of every friendless name the friend.
¶Yet still he fills affection's eye,Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;Nor, letter'd Arrogance, denyThy praise to merit unrefined.
¶When fainting nature called for aid,And hovering death prepared the blow,His vigorous remedy display'dThe power of art without the show.
¶In misery's darkest cavern known,His useful care was ever nigh,Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan,And lonely want retired to die.
¶No summons mock'd by chill delay,No petty gain disdain'd by pride;The modest wants of every dayThe toil of every day supplied.
¶His virtues walked their narrow round,Nor made a pause, nor left a void;And sure the eternal Master foundThe single talent well employ'd.[504]The busy day, the peaceful night,Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;His frame was firm—his powers were bright,Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
¶Then with no fiery throbbing pain,No cold gradations of decay,Death broke at once the vital chain,And freed his soul the nearest way.
A Satire
¶LONG - EXPECTED one-and-twenty,
¶Ling'ring year, at length is flown;Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,Great (Sir John), are now your own.
¶Loosen'd from the minor's tether,Free to mortgage or to sell,Wild as wind, and light as feather,Bid the sons of thrift farewell.
¶Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennies,All the names that banish care;Lavish of your grandsire's guineas,Show the spirits of an heir.
¶All that prey on vice and folly,Joy to see their quarry fly;There the gamester, light and jolly,There the lender, grave and sly.
¶Wealth, my lad, was made to wander,Let it wander as it will;Call the jockey, call the pander,Bid them come and take their fill.