University of Virginia Library

Advice to the Philosophers.

Hither, dull Stoicks, leave the dry
Amusements of Philosophy;
Forsake your Cells, and sober Rules,
You wretched, antiquated Fools:
Leave, leave your Grave, Elab'rate Toys,
For Dotards fit, and Bearded Boys;
No more th' instructive Grape despise,
Drink, and endeavour to grow wise.
You, who old musty Systems read,
And study—to purloin the Dead,
That still new Dunces to commence,
Pore out the Eyes to grope for Sense,
And wear the precious Hours away,
To wake all Night, and dream all Day;
Yet, after all, can scarce prevail
To furnish out a sorry Tale,
Idle as that Old Nurses use,
When they their wayward Babes amuse;
When close they hug 'em to the Breast,
And lull th' impatient Fools to Rest.
Dull Stoicks, You'll ne're thus obtain
The Truth, you long have sought in vain,
With so much Labour, so much Pain.
Away with such Delusive Dreams;
Come bathe in sprightly Bacchus Streams.
Empty the Flasks, the Glasses drain,
Exhaust the Bowls, then fill again;
Again attempt th' inviting Flood,
And take in all the flowing God.
Thus, thus, my Converts, you'll obtain
The Truth, you long have sought in vain,
With so much Labour, so much Pain.