American Magazine

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For the AMERICAN MAGAZINE.
Utrum horum Mavis, elige.

	LET sage discretion the gay world     despise;
	Let dull philosophers o'er lamps grow wise,
	Like bees their summer providently waste
	And hoard that treasure which they ne'er     shall taste;
	Let statesmen court the bubble of applause
	And staring cry for sumptuary laws;
	Let peevish prelates in devotion kneel
	And curse that pleasure which they try     to feel;
	Life is a blessing, use it as you can,
	And the best purpose of that blessing scan
	All human reason is no more than this,
	To guide our footsteps in the realms of     bliss,
	While, as in drinking, so in life the will
	Must bound our joy, and dictate what to     fill.—
	Live freely then; for if thy life offend
	'Tis ne'er too late to alter and amend:
	But should you hesitate the season's lost,
	As backward fruits are subject to the frost.
	Then if true spirit ev'ry hope inflame
	Mark well the lesson of my proffer'd fame.

	First trace the limits of thy destin'd     sphere:
	Here rest thy wisdom, thine ambition here.
	'Tis not each clown that triumphs, tho'     he dare
	Aspire to charm and captivate the fair;
	'Tis not each witling who the ape dis-     plays,
	That strikes our fancy or provokes our     praise:
	But would you sin, be sinful with a grace—
	Inaptitude can even vice debase.
	Search then your genius, every bent sur-     vey;
	And where she prompts be ready to obey.
	See thro' this crowd where brilliant pros-     pects rise,
	The chace how luring, and how rare the     prize!
	The paths of pleasure to no bounds con-     fin'd,
	As in their shape, are various in their     kind.
	Fix then thy province, make thy talents     good
	And be a sop, a gentleman or blood.

	Happy the first, who studious to dis-     pense
	With all the cumb'rous pedantry of sense,
	Knows no ambition but the pride of dress;
	And for that toy can ev'ry wish suppress:
	Whose natal bounties like the fly's consist
	In two short words, to flutter and exist;
	If to such fame thine emulation turn,
	Hear his pursuits; and from example learn.
	—'Till ten the morn is squander'd in his     bed;
	One precious hour's devoted to his head,
	Another's finish'd ere his dress complete
	From top to toe be critically neat—
	Then he struts forth to greet his kindred     beaux,
	And urge some tardy tradesman for his     cloaths;
	Or mid the town to saunter and to stare,
	And kill an hour or two he knows not     where.
	In the noon's bustle vacant and serene,
	He deals in bows, his business to be seen:
	—Perhaps united to some fair he meets
	From shop to shop pursues her thro' the     streets,
	For the last fashions stimulates her pride,
	And on the modes is zealous to decide.
	Next his soil'd charms he hastens to re-     pair,
	To give a finer polish to his hair,
	His ev'ry grace with ev'ry art entwine,
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	And form his looks more strikingly di-     vine;
	Till the last noblest pastime of the day
	To his bright zenith summons him away.
	There in the circle of some coterie,
	Rous'd by the exhilarating fumes of sea,
	View him triumphant, with unrival'd     fame
	Attract each ogle, and each breast in-     flame;
	To ev'ry sense a magic thrill impart,
	And steal thro' all the mazes of the heart,
	Next let us view the gentleman at ease,
	Too rich to toil, too indolent to please;
	Whose days unharass'd by desire or woe
	In one smooth stream uninterrupted flow:
	Born to no end, for no one purpose fit,
	A load of vanity, a grain of wit,
	Who, far remov'd from ev'ry worldly     strife,
	Lives for himself, and sleeps away his     life.

	If to the third thine happier choice in-     cline,
	And thy warm genius as a blood would     shine,
	Be the first caution in thy bold career
	To shun low comrades and a vulgar     sphere;
	The great unpunish'd from their rank     offend,
	But humbler culprits with the laws con-     tend.—
	Then if some revel or a midnight joke
	Insult our slumbers, or the watch provoke,
	Thy looks can wrest stern justice from the     scale,
	Suspend her frowns and snatch thee from     a jail.
	Let dauntless spirit animate thy soul,
	No fears restrain thee and no threats con-     troul.
	Whether in hunting, at an arm's expence,
	You dash a furious courser o'er a fence,
	Or at the bottle be thy matchless boast,
	To sit the longest, and to drink the most:
	—So shall thy fame to wond'rous heights     ascend;
	And ev'ry rake shall hail thee as a friend.
	—But, if thy soul such base ambition     spurn,
	And in thy breast a purer spirit burn,
	Leave such poor laurels to the brows of     Youth;
	And place thy zeal in wisdom and in     truth.
	Then in thy way, tho' mean temptation     rise,
	The task discourage or the world despise,
	Proceed—until the triumph of thy worth     record,
	That virtue is the surest best reward.
	The sop, whose merits on his charms de-     pend,
	May gain a mistress, but will lose a friend;
	The blood will tell thee e'er he quit the     stage,
	That joy of youth's the misery of age;
	And the deluded idler with remorse
	Will own a blessing what he fear'd a curse:
	But he whose wisdom, such desires with-     stood,
	Unites his pleasure with his greatest good,
	Knows not misfortune tho' a fair one     frown,
	His wealth escape him, and his friends     disown;
	But, firm in what he is, in what he may be     blest,
	Feels an unvaried sunshine in his breast.

New-York, May 10, 1788.

The counterpart, addressed to the fe-
male sex, is requested agreeably to the
promise of our ingenious correspondent.