The parents wept, and sought their infant’s bed;
Despair alone the father’s soul possess’d;
But hope rose gently in the mother’s breast;
For well she knew that neither grief nor joy
Pain’d without hope, or pleased without alloy;
And while these hopes and fears her heart divide,
A cheerful vision bade the fears subside. 
   She saw descending to the world below
An ancient form, with solemn pace and slow. 
“Daughter, no more be sad” (the phantom cried),
“Success is seldom to the wise denied;
In idle wishes fools supinely stay,
Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way: 
Why art thou grieved?  Be rather glad, that he
Who hates the happy, aims his darts at thee,
But aims in vain; thy favour’d daughter lies
Serenely blest, and shall to joy arise. 
For, grant that curses on her name shall wait,
(So Envy wills, and such the voice of Fate,)
Yet if that name be prudently suppress’d,
She shall be courted, favour’d, and caress’d. 
   “For what are names? and where agree mankind,
In those to persons or to acts assign’d? 
Brave, learn’d, or wise, if some their favourites call,
Have they the titles or the praise from all? 
Not so, but others will the brave disdain
As rash, and deem the sons of wisdom vain;
The self-same mind shall scorn or kindness move,
And the same deed attract contempt and love. 
   “So all the powers who move the human soul,
With all the passions who the will control,
Have various names—­One giv’n by Truth Divine,
(As Simulation thus was fixed for mine,)
The rest by man, who now, as wisdom’s prize
My secret counsels, now as art despise;
One hour, as just, those counsels they embrace,
And spurn, the next, as pitiful and base. 
Thee, too, my child, those fools as Cunning fly,
Who on thy counsel and thy craft rely;
That worthy craft in others they condemn,
But ’tis their prudence, while conducting them. 
   “Be flattery, then, thy happy infant’s name,
Let Honour scorn her and let Wit defame;
Let all be true that Envy dooms, yet all,
Not on herself, but on her name, shall fall;
While she thy fortune and her own shall raise,
And decent Truth be call’d, and loved as, modest Praise. 
   “O happy child! the glorious day shall shine,
When every ear shall to thy speech incline,
Thy words alluring and thy voice divine: 
The sullen pedant and the sprightly wit,
To hear thy soothing eloquence shall sit;
And both, abjuring Flattery, will agree
That Truth inspires, and they must honour thee. 
   “Envy himself shall to thy accents bend,
Force a faint smile, and sullenly attend,
When thou shalt call him Virtue’s jealous friend,
Whose bosom glows with generous rage to find
How fools and knaves are flatter’d by mankind. 
   “The sage retired, who spends alone his days,
And flies th’ obstreperous voice of public praise;