The INVISIBLE. By the Same. Written at COLLEGE, 1747

What mortal burns not with the love of fame? Some write, some fight, some eat themselves a name. For fame beau Frightful haunts each public place, And grows conspicuous for— his ugly face. Laura, the rural circle's constant boast, Sighs for the Mall, and longs to be a toast. The priestling, proud of doctrine not his own, Usurps a scarf, and longs to preach in town. Ev'n Wesley's saints, whose cant has fill'd the nation, Toil more for fame, I trow, than reformation.

B—, though blest with learning, sense and wit, Yet prides himself in never shewing it. Safe in his cell, he shuns the staring crowd, And inward shines, like Sol behind a cloud. For fame let fops to distant regions roam, Lo! here's the man—Who never stirs from home! That unseen wight, whom all men wish to see, Illustrious grown—by mere obscurity.