Led by that instinct, heav'n itself inspires,
Or fo much reafon, as their ftate requires ;
See all with skill acquire their daily food,
All use those arms, which Nature has bestow'd}
Produce their tender progeny, and feed
With care parental, whilst that care they need ;
In thefe lov'd offices compleatly bleft,
No hopes beyond them, nor vain fears moleft.
Man o'er a wider field extends his views;
God thro' the wonders of his works pursues,
Exploring thence his attributes, and laws,
Adores, loves, imitates th' Eternal Caufe;
For fure in nothing we approach fo nigh
The great example of divinity,
As in benevolence: the patriot's foul
Knows not self-center'd for itself to roll,
But warms, enlightens, animates the whole :
Its mighty orb embraces first his friends,
His country next, then man; nor here it ends,
But to the meanest animal defcends.
Wife Nature has this focial law confirm'd,
By forming man fo helpless, and unarm'd;
His want of others' aid, and pow'r of speech
T' implore that aid this leffon daily teach:
Mankind with other animals compare,
Single how weak, and impotent they are!
But view them in their complicated state,
Their pow'rs how wond'rous, and their ftrength how great,
When focial virtue individuals joins,
And in one folid mass, like gravity combines !
This then's the firft great law by Nature giv'n,
Stamp'd on our fouls, and ratify'd by Heav'n;
All from utility this law approve,
As ev'ry private blifs muft fpring from focial love.
Why deviate then fo many from this law?
See paffions, cuftom, vice, and folly draw!
Survey the rolling globe from East to West,
How few, alas! how very few are blest?
Beneath the frozen poles, and burning line,
What poverty, and indolence combine,
To cloud with Error's mifts the human mind?
No trace of man, but in the form we find.
And are we free from error, and distress,
Whom Heav'n with clearer light has pleas'd to biefs?
Whom true Religion leads? (for fhe but leads
By foft perfuafion, not by force proceeds ;)
Behold how we avoid this radiant fun!
This proffer'd guide how obftinately fhun,
And after Sophiftry's vain systems run!
For these as for effentials we engage
In wars, and maffacres, with holy rage;
Brothers by brothers' impious hands are flain,
Mistaken Zeal, how favage is thy reign!
Unpunish'd vices here fo much abound,
All right, and wrong, all order they confound;
These are the giants, who the gods defy,
And mountains heap on mountains to the sky;
Sees this th' Almighty Judge, or feeing spares,
And deems the crimes of man beneath his cares?
He fees; and will at laft rewards bestow,
And punishments, not lefs affur'd for being flow.
Nor doubt I, tho' this ftate confus'd appears,
That ev'n in this God fometimes interferes ;
Sometimes, left man fhould quite his pow'r difown,
He makes that pow'r to trembling nations known :
But rarely this; not for each vulgar end,
As Superftition's idle tales pretend,
Who thinks all foes to God, who are her own,
Directs his thunder, and ufurps his throne.
Nor know I not, how much a confcious mind
Avails to punish, or reward mankind;
Ev'n in this life thou, impious wretch, must feel
The Fury's fcourges, and th' infernal wheel;
From man's tribunal, tho' thou hop'ft to run,
Thyfelf thou can'ft not, nor thy conscience shun :
What must thou fuffer, when each dire disease,
The progeny of Vice, thy fabric feize ?
Confumption, fever, and the wreaking pain
Of fpafms, and gout, and stone, a frightful train!
When life new tortures can alone supply,
Life thy fole hope thou'lt hate, yet dread to die.
Shou'd fuch a wretch to num'rous years arrive, It can be little worth his while to live;
No honors, no regards his age attend,
Companions fly; he ne'er cou'd have a friend :
His flatterers leave him, and with wild affright
He looks within, and fhudders at the fight:
When threatning Death uplifts his pointed dart,
With what impatience he applies to art,
Life to prolong amidst disease and pains!
Why this, if after it no fenfe remains ?
Why shou'd he chuse these miseries to endure,
If Death cou'd grant an everlasting cure?
'Tis plain there's fomething whispers in his ear,
(Tho' fain he'd hide it) he has much to fear.
See the reverfe! how happy those we find,
Who know by merit to engage mankind ?
Prais'd by each tongue, by ev'ry heart belov❜d,
For Virtues practis'd, and for Arts improv❜d:
Their easy aspects fhine with fmiles ferene,
And all is peace, and happiness within:
Their fleep is ne'er disturb'd by fears, or ftrife,
Nor luft, nor wine, impair the springs of life.
Him Fortune can not fink, nor much elate,
Whofe views extend beyond this mortal state;
By age when fummon'd to refign his breath,
Calm, and ferene, he sees approaching death,
As the fafe port, the peaceful filent shore,
Where he may reft, life's tedious voyage
He, and he only, is of death afraid,
Whom his own confcience has a coward made;
Whilft he, who Virtue's radiant course has run,
Defcends like a ferenely-setting fun :
His thoughts triumphant Heav'n alone employs,
And Hope anticipates his future joys.
So good, fo bleft th' illuftrious d Hough we find,
Whose image dwells with pleasure on my mind;
The Mitre's glory, Freedom's constant friend,
In times which ask'd a champion to defend ;
Who after near a hundred virtuous years,
His fenfes perfect, free from pains and fears,
Replete with life, with honors, and with age,
Like an applauded actor left the stage;
Or like fome victor in th' Olympic games,
Who, having run his course, the crown of Glory claims.
From this juft contraft plainly it appears,
How Confcience can inspire both hopes and fears;
But whence proceed these hopes, or whence this dread,
If nothing really can affect the dead?
See all things join to promise, and prefage
The fure arrival of a future age!
Whate'er their lot is here, the good and wife,
Nor doat on life, nor peevishly despise.
An honeft man, when Fortune's forms begin,
Has Confolation always fure within,
And, if she fends a more propitious gale,
He's pleas'd, but not forgetful it may fail.
Nor fear that he, who fits fo loose to life,
Shou'd too much fhun its labors, and its ftrife;
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