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She 'll sparkle, puzzle, Autter, raise a dust, 1230 And fly convicticn in the dust she raised.
Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste ! "Tis precious as the vehicle of sonse, But, as its substitute, a dire disease. Pernicious talent! flatter'd by the world, 1235 By the blinc world, which thinks the talent rare. Wisdom is rare, Lorenzo ! wit abounds; Passion can give it : sometimes wine inspires The lucky flash ; ard madness rarely fails. Whatever cause the spirit strongly stirs
1240 Confers the baye, anil rivals thy renown. For thy renown 'twere well was this the worst ; Chance often bits it ; and, to pique thee more, See Du'ness, blundering on vivacities, Shakes her sage head at the calamity
1245 Which has exposed, and let her down to thee. But Wisdom, awful Wisdomı ! which inspects, Discerns, coripares, weigks, separates, infors, Seizes the right, and holds it to the last, Ilow rare : in senates, synods, sought in vain ; 1250 Or if there found, 'tis sacred to the few; While a lewu prostitute to multitudes, Frequent, as fatal, Wit. In civil life Wit makes an enterpriser, Sense a man. Wit hates authority, commotion loves,
1255 And thinks herself the sightning of the storm. In states 'tis dangerous ; in religion, deaths. Shall Wit turn Christian when the dull beliera a Sense is our helmet, Wit is but the plume , The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. 1269 Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by Wit it casts a brighter beam ; Yet Wit apart, it is a diamond still. Wit, widow'd of good sense, is worse than nought; It hoists more sail to run against a rock.
1365 Thus a half Chesterfield is quite a fool, Whom dull fools scorn and bless their want of wit
How ruinous the rock I warn thee shun, Where sirens sit, to sing thee to thy fate ! A joy in which our reason bears no part,
1270 Is but a sorrow, tickling ere it stings. Let not the cooings of the world allure thee; Which of her lovers ever found her true ? Happy! of this bad world who little know :And yet, we much must know her, to be safe. 1275 To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but li*t!e, nor that little long. There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse, A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy, Our thoughtless agitation's idle child,
1280 That mantles high, that sparkles, and expires, Leaving the soul more vapid than before ; An animal ovation ! such as holds No commerce with our reason, but subsists On juices, through the well toned tubes, well strain'd; A nice machine ! scarce ever tuned aright ; 1286 And when it jars—thy sirens sing no more : Thy dance is done; the demi-god is thrown (Short apotheosis !) beneath the man, In coward gloom immersed, or fell despair. 1290
Art thou yet dull enough despair to dread, And startle at destruction ? if thou art, Accept a buckler, take it to the field; (A field of battle is this mortal life !) When danger threatens, jay it on thy heart, 1295 A single sentence proof against the world. • Soul, body, fortune; every good pertains To one of these ; but prize not all alike; The goods of fortune to thy bouy's health, Body to soul, and soul submit to God'
1300 Wouldst thou build lasting happiness ? do this : The’ inverted pyramid can never stand.
Is this truth doubtful ? it outshines the Sun; Nay, the Sun shines not but to show us this, The single lesson of mankind on earth:
And yel-yet what? No news! mankind is mad;
They grin, but wherefore ? and how long the laugh?
The clotted hair ! gored breast! blaspheming eye!
From vice, sense, fancy, no man can be bless'd .
Will make him more: a bounteous joy! that gives
1355 There, O my Lucia ! may I meet thee there, Where not thy presence can improve my bliss !
Affects not this the sages of the world?
The world replies not ;—but the world persist.s, 1375 And puts the cause off to the longest day, Planning evasions for the day of doom : So far, at that rehearing, from redress, They then turn witnesses against themselves. Hear that, Lorenzo ! nor be wise to-morrow. 1380 Haste, haste' a man, by nature, is in haste;
For who shall answer for another hour ?
Ye sons of Earth! (nor willing to be more :) 1385
1401 And bold blasphemer of his friend,—the World ! The world, whose legions cost him slender pay, And volunteers around his bannei swarm; Prudent, as Prussia in her zeal for Gaul. 1405
• Are all, then, fools?' Lorenzo cries.— Yes, all But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee,) "The mother of true wisdom is the will :' The noblest intellect, a fool without it. World-wisdom much has done, and more may do, 1410 In arts and sciences, in wars and peace ; But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee, And make thee twice a beggar at thy death. This is the most indulgence can afford, • Thy wisdom all can do but—make thee wise.' 1415 kur think this censure is severe on thee: Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce.