Yes, we have lost a father!
The greatest blessing heaven bestows on mortals,
And seldom found amidst these wilds of time,
A GOOD, A WORTHY KING!-Hear me, my Tancred,
And I will tell thee, in a few plain words,
How he deserved that best, that glorious title.
'Tis nought complex, 'tis clear as truth and virtue.
He lov'd his people, deem'd them all his children;
The good exalted, and depress'd the bad:
He spurned the flattering crew, with scorn rejected
Their smooth advice, that only means themselves,
Their schemes to aggrandize him into baseness:
Well knowing that a people, in their rights
And industry protected; living safe
Beneath the sacred shelter of the laws;
Encouraged in their genius, arts, and labours,
And happy each as he himself deserves ;
Are ne'er ungrateful. WITH UNSPARING HAND
THEY WILL FOR HIM PROVIDE: THEIR FILIAL LOVE,
AND CONFIDENCE ARE HIS UNFAILING TREASURY,
AND EVERY HONEST MAN HIS FAITHFUL GUARD.
Whose eye the heart's profoundest depth explores,
That if not to perform my regal task;
To be the common father of my people,
Patron of honour, virtue, and religion;
If not to shelter useful worth, to guard
His well-earned portion from the sons of rapine,
And deal out justice with impartial hand;
If not to spread on all good men thy bounty,
(The treasures trusted to me, not my own ;)
If not to raise anew our English name,
By peaceful acts, that grace the land they bless,
And generous war, to humble proud oppressors:
Yet more;-if not to build the public weal
On that firm base, which can alone resist
Both time and chance,-fair liberty and law;
If I for these great ends am not ordained,
May I ne'er poorly fill the throne of England.
Honour and glory, too, have been my aim:
But tho' I dare face death, and all the dangers
Which furious war wears in its bloody front,
Yet could I chuse to fix my fame by peace,
By justice, and by mercy; and to raise
My trophies on the blessings of mankind!
NOR WOULD I BUY THE EMPIRE OF THE WORLD
WITH RUIN OF THE PEOPLE WHOM I SWAY,
OR FORFEIT OF MY HONour.
Let truth and virtue be their (princes') earliest teachers,
Keep from their ear the Syren-voice of flattery,
Keep from their eye the harlot-form of vice,
Who spread, in every court, their silken snares,
And charm but to betray. Betimes instruct them
SUPERIOR RANK DEMANDS SUPERIOR WORTH:
PRE-EMINENCE OF VALOUR, JUSTICE, MERCY;
But chief, that, tho' exalted o'er mankind,
THEY ARE THEMSELVES BUT MEN-FRAIL SUFFERING
From no one injury of human lot
Exempt; but fever'd by the same heat, chill'd
By the same cold, torn by the same disease
That scorches, freezes, racks and kills THE BEGGAR
England never did, nor ever shall
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms;
And we shall shock them.-Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true. Shakspeare.
If there be any land, as fame reports,
Where common laws restrain the prince and subject,
A happy land, where circulating power
Flows thro' each member of the embodied state,
Sure not unconscious of the mighty blessing,
Her grateful sons shine bright with every virtue;
Untainted with the lust of innovation,
Sure all unite to hold her league of rule
Unbroken as the sacred chain of nature,
That links the jarring elements in peace.
To be good is to be happy; angels
Are happier than men, because they're better-
Guilt is the source of sorrow; 'tis the fiend,
Th' avenging fiend that follows us behind
With whips and stings: the bless'd know none of this,
But rest in everlasting peace of mind,
And find the height of all their heaven, is goodness.
Learn hence, ye Romans, on how sure a base
The patriot builds his happiness; no stroke,
No keenest, deadliest, shaft of adverse fate,
Can make his generous bosom quite despair,
But that alone by which his country falls.
Grief may to grief in endless round succeed,
And nature suffer when our children bleed:
Yet still superior must that hero prove,
WHOSE FIRST, BEST PASSION, IS HIS COUNTRY'S
Whitehead.
In airy schemes, or idle speculations.
The rule and conduct of all social life
Is her great province. Not in lonely cells
Obscure she lurks, but holds her heavenly light,
To senates and to kings, to guide their councils,
And teach them to reform and bless mankind:
All policy but her's is false, and rotten;
All valour, not conducted by her precepts,
Is a destroying fury sent from hell,
To plague unhappy man, and ruin nations.
And therefore wer't thou bred to virtuous knowledge,
And wisdom early planted in thy soul,
That thou migh'st know to rule thy fiery passions:
To bind their rage, and stay their headlong course;
To bear with accidents, and every change
Of various life; to struggle with adversity;
To wait the leisure of the righteous gods,
Till they, in their own good appointed hour,
Shall bid thy better days come forth at once;
A long and shining train; till thou, well pleased,
Shalt bow, and bless thy fate, and say the gods are
just.
Rowe.
Affectation is to be always distinguished from hypocrisy, as being the art of counterfeiting those qualities, which we might with innocence and safety be known to want. Hypocrisy is the necessary burthen of villainy; affectation, part of the chosen trappings of folly.-Johnson.
All singular and far-fetched fashions are rather marks of folly and vain affectation than of right reason. The wise man ought in his own mind to retire from the crowd, and there keep his soul at liberty and in full vigour, to judge freely of things; while nevertheless as to outward appearance, he ought entirely to conform to fashions and forms of the times; for it is a rule of all rules, and the general law of all laws, that every person should observe those of the place where he is.-Montaigne.
"Le sot fait des loix; le sage s'y soumet."
The fool enacts, the wise observe the law.
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