And his is the Godlike delight,
    The power to relieve the distress’d! ... 
  Who can contemplate blessings so bright,
    And not wish to be equally bless’d. 
  Then let not the means be forgot: 
    Remember, and mark this great truth;
  ’Twas not Chance fix’d his prosp’rous Lot,
    ’Twas the Virtues of provident Youth.

5

  If such a bright prospect can charm,
    If you feel emulation arise,
  If your juvenile bosom is warm,
    With the hope to be wealthy and wise;
  O cherish the noble design,
    The maxims of Prudence pursue,
  Application and Industry join,
    ’Tis the way fickle Fortune to woo.

6

  Early cultivate Virtue’s rich seeds;
    These will fruits in Life’s winter display: 
  Ne’er defer till to-morrow good deeds,
    That as well might be finish’d to-day. 
  For Age and Experience can tell,
    And you’ll find, when you grow an old man,
  Though it’s never too late to do well,
    You will wish you had sooner began.

* * * * *

MORE BREAD AND CHEESE.

A NEW SONG,

Written in the Beginning of the Year 1793.

[The Balance of Population and Supply.—­The Overstock’d Hive.—­The Source of War.]

* * * * *

TO THE TUNE OF “NOTTINGHAM ALE.”

1

  My Brothers of this world, of ev’ry Nation,
  Some maxims of prudence the Muse would inspire. 
  Now restlessness reigns throughout every station;
  The low would be high, and the high would be higher;
        Now Freedom’s the word,
        That unsheaths ev’ry sword,
  But don’t be deceiv’d by such pretexts as these: 
        ’Tis not Freedom, nor Slavery,
        That calls for your Bravery;
  ’Tis, only a Scramble for more Bread and Cheese.

2

  When others some party are venting their rage on,
  Inflam’d by the news from Versailles or the Hague,
  Let Mum be your maxim ... beware of contagion ... 
  For Anger is catching as Fever or Plague: 
        Now Victuals is scanty,
        And Eaters are plenty,
  The former must rise, or the latter decrease;
        If in War they’re employ’d,
        Till one half are destroy’d,
  The few that are left will have more Bread and Cheese.

3

  Think not that Employment’s the grand requisition;
  That if men had work it would make the times good;
  No man would want work if he lack’d not provision;
  The cry for Employ is the cry for more Food. 
        Now every Trade,
        From the Gown to the Spade,
  Oppress’d by it’s numbers feels Scarcity’s squeeze;
        From the Prince to the Peasant,
        ‘Tis true, tho’ unpleasant,
  There must be fewer mouths, or else more Bread and Cheese.