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If then to all men Happiness was meant. . When the loose mountain trembles from on high, God in Externals could not place content. Shall gravitation cease, if you go by?
Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, Or some old temple, nodding to its falli, And these be happy call'd, unhappy those ; For Chartres' liead reserve the hanging wall? But Heaven's just balance equal will appear, But still this world (so fined for the knave) While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fcar: Contents us not. A better shall we hare? Not present good or ill, the joy or curse; a:kingdom of the just then let it be : But future views of better, or of worse. But first consider how those just agrec.
Oh, sons of carth! attempt ye still to risc, The good must merit God's peculiar care; By nountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? But who, but God, can tell us who they are ? Heaven still wiih laughter the vain toil surveys, One thinks, on Calvin Kleaven's own Spirit fell; And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Another deems him instrument of hell.
Know, all the good that individuals find, If Calvin feel Heaven's blessing, or its rod, Or Gotland Nature meant to mere mankind, This cries there is, and that, there is no Guia Reason's whole picasure, all the joys of sense, | What shocks one part will edify the rest, Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Compe- Nor with one cystein can they all be blest, But health subsists withtemperance alone;[tence. The very best will variously incline, And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own. And what rewards your virtue, punish mine. The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; Whatever is, is riglit. - This world, 'tis true, But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. Was inade for Cæsar - but for Titus too; Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,
And which more blest? who chain'd his country Wlio risque the most, that take wrong means or Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day? (say, right?
"" But sometines virtue starres while vice is Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, first?
. . fed." Which meets contempt, or which coinpassion What then? Is the reward of virtue bread? Count all th' advantage prosp'rous Vice attains. That vice inay merit, 'tis the price of toil; 'Tis but what Virtue flies from, and disdains, The knave deserves it when he tills the soil. And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd, Theknave deserves it when he tempts the main, One they must want, which is, to pass for good, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gaini, Oh blind totruth, andGod's wholescheine below, The goord man may be weak, be indolent; Who fancy bliss 10 vice, to virtue woe? Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. Who sees and follows that great scheine the best, But grant him riches, your demand is a'er? Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest.“ No shall the good want health, the good But fools the good alone unhappy call,
“want pow'r?" For ills or accidents that chance to all.
Add health and pow'r, and ev'ry earthly thing, See Falkland dies, the virtuous and ihe just! T" Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust! Nay, why external for internal yiv'n? [king: See Sydney bleeds amid the martial strife! Why is not man a God, and earth a heaven? Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive Say, was it virtue, more tho' Heaven ne'er gave, God gives enough, whilo he has more to give; Laiented Digisy! sunk theo to the grave ? Immense the pow'r, indiense were the demand; Tell me, it virtue made the son expire,
Say, at what part of nature will they stand: Why, full of days and honor, lives the sire? What nothing earthly gives, or can destros, Why drew Marseillez' good bisbop purer breath, The soul's calın sunshine, and the heart-feli joy, WhenNature sicken'd, and each gale was death? Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix? Or why so long in life (if long can be | Then give humility a coach and six, Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me? Justice a conqu’ror's sword, or truth a gown,
What makes all psysical or moral ill? Or public spirit its great cure, a crown. There deviates nature, and here wanders will. Weak, foolish man! will heaven reward us there God sends not ill; if rightly understood, With the same trash mad inortals wish for bere? Or partial ill is universal good,
The boy and man an individual makes, Or change admits, or nature lets it fall,
Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes? Short, and but rare, till man improv'd it all. Go, like the Indian, in another life We just as wisely might of Heaven complain, Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife; That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain, As well as dream such trifles are assign'a, As that the virtuous son is still at ease
As toys and empires, for a godlike mind: When his lewd father gave the dire disease. Rewards, that either would to virtue bring Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal No joy, or be destructive of the thing: Cause
How oft by these at sixty are undone Prone for his fav'rites to reverse his laws ? The virtues of a saint at twenty-one!
Shall burning /£tna, if a sage requires, To whom can riches give repute, or trust, Forget to thunder, and recal her fires ?.. Content or pleasure, but the good and just ? On air or sea new motions be imprest,
Judges and senates have been bought fut gold; Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? Esteem and love were never to be sold.
Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, I'hen what t'oblivion better were resign'd,
Honor and shame from no condition rise ; One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
| To sce all others' faulis, and tecl our own :
Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
How niuch of other each is sure to cost;
How sometimes life is risqu'd, and always ease : Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood, | Think, and if still these things thy envy call, Go! and pretend your family is young; Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. To sigh for ribands, if thou art so silly, What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy! Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. Is yellow dirt ihe passion of thy life? Look next on greatness; say where greatness Look bui on tipus, or on Gripus' wife! lies?
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd, “There, but among the heroes and the wise?" | The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind! Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, Or ravish'd with the whistling of a name, Froin Macedonia's inadınan to the Swede; Sec Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting faine ! The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find Ifall, imited, uhy ambition call, Or mahe, an enemy of all mankind!
From antient story learn to scorn them all. Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, There, in the rich, the houor'd, fain'd, and Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose. 1 great, No less alike the politic and wise;
See the file scale of happiness complete! All sly, slow things, with circumspective eyes. In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay, Men in their loose unguarded hours they like, How happy those to ruin, these betray. Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. Mark by what wretched steps their glory grous, Bli krunt that those can conquer, these can cheat; From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose; Tis phriese absurd to call a villain great: In each how guilt and greatness oqual ran, Who wickedly is wise, or madly larave,
And all that rais'd the hero sunk the man: 1. but the mure a fool, the more a knare. Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,. Who noble ends by noble means obtains, But stain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd forgoid; Or failing, smiles in exile or in claims,
Ti.en see them brokewjih toils or sunk in ease,
What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath; E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame!
And haunt their linnbers in the pompous shade.
Compule the morn and ev'ning to the day; An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead;
The whole amount of that enormous fame, Alike or when, or where, they shone, or shine, A tale, that blends their glory with their shame! Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine.
know then this truth enough for man is A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
know) An honest man's the noblest work of God. 1" Virtue alone is happiness below." Fame but froin death a villain's name can save, The only point where human bliss stands still, As justice tears his body from the grave; And tastes the good without the fall to ill :
Where Where only merit constant pay receives, 1 And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, Is blest in what it takes, and what it gives; To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, The joy unequall'd, if its ends it gain; | Teach me, like thee, in various mature wise, And if it lose, attended with no pain :
(To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Without satiety, tho' e'er so blest,
Forord by thy converse, happily to steer And but more relish'd as the more distrest : Froin grave to guy, from lively to severe; The broadest mirth unfeeling tolly wears, Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears : Intent to reason, or politc to please. Good, froin each objeot, from each place acquir'd, Oh! while along the stream of time thy name For ever exercis'il, yet never uird ;
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Never elater while one inan 's opprest; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Never dejucted while another's blest:
| Pursue the triumphi, and partake the gale? And where no wants, no wishes can remain, When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain. | Whosesons shall blush their fathers were thy faes,
See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow?| Shall then this verse to future age pretend Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can Thou wert my gnide, philosopher, and friend? know!
| That, nrg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, Yet poor with fortune, aud with learning blind, Froin sounds to things, froin fancy to the beart; The bad must miss, the wood untanght will find, 1 For wit's falsc inirror held up nature's light; Slaves to no sect, who takes no private road; Show'd erring pride, whatever is, is right; But looks through nature, up to nature's God; That reason, passion, answer one great aim; Pursues that chain which sinks the immense | That true self-love and social are the same; design,
That virtue only inakes our bliss below; Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine; And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. Secs that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above, and some below; Learns, from this union or the rising whole, $ 17. Moral Essays. In Four Epistles. Pope The first, last purpose of the human soul;
To Sir Richard Temple, L. Cobham. And knows where faith, law, morais, all began, All end, in love of God, and love of man.
EPISTLE I. For hiin alone, hope leads from goal to goal, Yes, you despise the man to books confin'd, And opens still, and opens on his soul; Who from his study rails at human kind; Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfin'd, | Tho'what he learns he speaks, and may advance It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind; Some gen'ral maximns, or be right by chance. He sees why nature plants in inan alone The concomb bird, so talkatire and grave, Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown. That from his eage, calls Cuckold, Whore, and (Nature, whose dietates to no other kind Tho'inanva passenger he rightly call, [Knave. Are giv’n in vain, but what they seek they find) tou hold him no Philosopher at all. Wisc is her present ; she connects in this
And yet the fate of all extremes is such, His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; Men uay be read, as well as Books, too niuch. At once his own bright prospect to be blest. To observations which ourselves we niake, And strongest motive to assist the rest
We grow more partial for th' observer's sake; Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, To written wisdom, as another's less : guias Givestheeto make thy neighbour's blessing chine. Maxims are drawn from notions, these fror Is this too little for the boundless heart? There's some peculiar in cach Icaf and grain, Extend it, let thy enemies have part;
Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying sein, Grasp the whole words of reason, life, and sense, Shall only man be taken in the gross? In one close system of benevolence:
Crant but as many sorts of minds as moss. Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,
That each from other differs, first confess : And height of bliss but height of charity. Next, that he varies from himself no less;
God loves from whole to parts: but human soul. Add nature's, custom's, reason's, passion's strije, Must rise from individual to the whole.
And all opinion's colors cast on life. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, Ourdepths who fathoms, or our shallows find, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; Quick whirls, and shifting eddies of our minds? The centre mord, a circle straight succeeds, On human actions reason tho' you can, Another still, and still another spreads;
It may be reason, but it is not inan: Friend, parents, neighbour, first it will embrace; His principle of action once explore, His country next; and next all human race; That instant 'is his principle no more. Wide and inore wide, th'o'erflowing of the mind Like following like, thro' creatures you dissect, Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kin;
You lose it in the inoment you detect.' Earth smile around, with boundless beauty blest, Yet more; the diff'rence is as great between And heaven beholds its image on his breast. The optics seeing, as the objects seen.
Come then, my friend! my genius! come along; All manners take a tincture from our own; Oh master of the poet, and the song!
Or come discolor'd thro' our passjous shown.
Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplics, 1 In vain the sage, with retrospective ere, Contracts, inreris, and gives ten thousand dyes. Wouldfromth'apparent Whatconclude the Why;
Vor will life's stream for observation stay: Infer the Motive from the Deed, and show It hurries all too fast to mark their way; That what we chanc'd was what we meant to do. In vain sexlate reflections we would make, Behold! if Fortune, or a Mistress frowns, When half our knowledge we must snatch, not Someplunge inbusiness, others shavetheircrowns: Oit in the passions' wild rotation test, [lake. To ease the soul of one oppressive weight, Our spring of action to ourselves is lost: This quits an Empire, that embroils a State; Tird, not determin'd, to the last we yiell; The saine adust complexion has impellid And what comes then is master of the field, Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Field. As the last image of that troubled heap, Not always Actions show the man; we find then sense subsides, and fancy sporis in sleep, Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind : (Tho' past the recollection of the thought), Perhaps Prosperity becalm d his breast, Becomes the stuff of which ourdream is wrought: Perhaps the Wind just shifted from the East. Soinething as dim to our cternal view,
Not therefore, humble he who secks retreat, • Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. Pride guides his steps and bids himshunthegreat.
True, some are open, and to all men known; Who combats bravely is not therefore brave; Others so very close, they're hid from none: He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: (So darkness strikes the sense no less than light) Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise; Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight; His pride in Reas'ning, not in Acting, lies. And ev'ry child hates Shylock, tho' bis soul | But grant that actions best discover man; Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole. Take the most strong, and sort them as you can. At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves, The few that glare, each character must mark; All know 'uis virtue, for he thinks them knaves. You balance not the many in the dark. When universal homage Umbra pays, What will you do with such as disagree? All say 'tis vice, and itch of vulgar praise. Suppress them or miscall them policy? When tart'ry glares, all hate it in a queen, Must then at once (the character to save) While one there is whocharins us with his spleen. The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knasc?
But these plain characters we rarely find: Alas! in truth the man but chang'd his inind; Tho'strongthe bent, vetquick the turns of mind : Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not din'd. Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole; Ask why from Britain Cæsar would retreat ? Or Affectations quite reverse the soul.
Cæsar himself might whisper, he was beat. The dull, flat falsehood serves for policy : Why risk the World's great Empire for a Punk? And in the cunning, truth itself 's a lie: Cæsar perhaps might answer, he was drunk. l'nthonght-of frailties cheat us in the wise : But, sage historians ! 'tis your task to prove, The fool lies hill in inconsistencies."
One action Conduct ; one, heroic Love. See the same man, in vigor, in the gout; 'Tis from high life high characters are drawn; llone, in company; in place, or out;
A Saint in Crape, is twice a Saint in Lawn: Earls at business, and at hazard late;
A Judge is just, a Chanc'llor juster still; Id at a fos-chace, wise at a debate;
A Gownman, learn'd; a Bishop, what you will; Drunk at a borough, civilat a ball;
| Wise, if a Minister ; but, if a King, [thing. irimpels at Ilacknev, faithless at Whitehall. More wise, more learn’d, more just, more ev'ry Cotius is crer moral, ever grave,
Court-Virtues bear, like Gems, the highest rate, Thin, wiro endures a knave is next a knave, I | Born where Heav'n's influence scarce can peneSre just at vinner -- then prefers, no doubt,
trate: 1! te with reni on to saint without.
In life's low vale, the soil the Virtue's like, Who will not praise Patricio's high desert, They please as beauties, here as wonders strike. I'm in m ind, isis uncorrupted heart, Tho' the same sun with all diffusive rays His comprehensive head! all int'rests weigh'd, Blush in the Rose, and in the Diamond blaze, 11 Europe sav'd, yei Britain nou betray'd. We prize the stronger effort of his pow'r, He thanks you noi, his pride is in piquette, And justly set the Gem above the Flow'r. lewmarket fame, and judgement at a bett. "Tis Education forms the coinmon mind; What made (says WIontigne,or inore sage Char- Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclin'd. Oino a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon? [ron!) Boastful and rough, your first son is a 'Squire; A perjur'd prince a leaden saint severe.
The next a Tradesman, meek, and much a liar; lgodless regent trenable at a star?
Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave; The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit,
Will sneaks a Scriv'ner, an exceeding knave : Faithless thro' piety, and dup'd thro'wit? Is he a Churchman ? then he's fond of pow'r; Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule,
A Quaker? sly; a Presbyterian? sour;
Know, God and Nature only are the same: Ask men's Opinions : Scoto now shall tell
That gay Free-thinker, a fine talker once, Tiine, ibat on all things lays lis lenient hand, What turns him now a stupid silent dunce ? Yet taines not this; it sticks, 10 our last sand. Some God, or Spirit, he has lately found : Consistent in our follies and our sius, Or chanc'd to meet a minister that frown'd. Here horrest Nature ends as she begins.
Judge we by Nature ? Habit can etlace, Old Politicians chew on wisdom past, Int'rest o'ercome, or Policy take place : And totter on in business to the last; By Actions ? those Uncertainty divides ; Is weali, as earnest; and as gravely out, By Passions? those Dissimulation hides : | As sober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout. Opinions? they still take a wider range : ' | Behold a rey'rend sire, who want of grace Find, if you can, in what you cannoi change. Has made the father of a naineless racs, Manners with Fortunes, Humors turn with Shov'd froin the wall perhaps, or rudely prese (lines,
By his own son, that passes by ublest: Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times. Still to his wench he rawls on knocking Inces,
Search then the Ruling Passion:There, alone, And envies ev'ry sparrow that he sees. The Wild are constant, and the Cunning known; ! A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The Fool consistent, and the False sincere; The doctor callid, declares all help too late : Priests, Princes, Women, no disseuiblers here." Mercy !" cries Helluo, “mercy on my soul! This clew once found, unravels all the rest, “ Is there no hope! --Alas! then bring the jowl." The prospect clears, and Wharton stands coufest. The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend, Whartoni, the scorn and wonder of our days, Suill strives to save the hallow'd taper's end, Whose ruling Passion was the Last of Praise : Collects her breath as ebbing life retires, Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, For one puff inore, and in that puff expires. Women and Fools must like him or he dies; “Odious! in woollen!'t would a saint provoke, Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) The Club must hail bim Master of the Joke, “ No, let a charming chiniz and Brussels lace Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? " Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifelessface: He 'll shine a Tully and a Wilinot 100 : “ One would not, sirre, be frightful when one's T'hen turns repentant, and his God adores
" lead Ilith the same spirit that lie drinks and whores; " And -- Betty-give this cheek a little red." Enongh if all around him but admire,
The courtier smooth, who forty years had And now the Punk appland, and now the Friar. An humble servant to all human kind, (shin'd Thus with each gift of nature and of art, Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
could stir, Grown all to all, from no one vice excmpi; "If-where I'm going-Icould serve you, Sir?" And most contemptible to shun contempt: “I give and I devise" (old Euclio said, Ilis passion still to covet gen'ral praise, | And sigh'd) “ my lands and tenements to Ned." His life, to forfeit it a thbusand ways;
Your money, Sir?--“ My movey, Sir, what all? A constant bounty which no friend has made: "Why-ill must-(then wept I give it Paul," An Angel Tongue, which no inan can persuade; The manor, Sir? -"the manor! hold," he cried, A Fool, with more of Wit than half mankind : " Not that,-Icannot part with that"--and died Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd: 1 And you, brave Cobham, 10 your latest breath A Tyrant to the wise his heart approves; Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death: A Rebel to the very king he loves ;
Such in those moments, as in all the past, He dies, sad outcast of each church and state, Oh save iny country, Heaven!" shall be you And, harder still ! fagitious, yet not great.
To a Lady
of the Characters of Ilomen Yet, in this search, the wisest may mistake, Nothing so true as what is once let fall, If second qualities for first they take.
“ Most women have no characters at all" When Cataline by rapine swell'd his store; Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, When Cæsar made a noble dame a whore ; | And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair In this the Lust, in that the Avarice
How many pictures of one nymph we view,
And there a naked Leda with a swan.
In this one passion man can strength enjoy, Or drest in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine,