Add Health and Power, and every earthly thing,
Wy bounded Power? why private? who no Or make, an enemy of all mankind!

The whole ftrange purpose of their lives, to find,

"king?"

170

Nay, why external for internal given ?
Why is not Man a God, and Earth a Heaven?
Wo afk and reason thus, will fearce conceive
Gol gives enough, while he has more to give ;
Immenfe the power, immense were the demand;
Say, at what part of mature will they ftand?. [165
What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The foul's calm fun-fhine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is Virtue's prize: A better would you fix?
Then give Humility a coach and fix,
Juftice a Conqueror's fword, or Truth a gown,
Or Public Spirit its great cure, a Crown.
Weak, foolish man! will Heaven reward us there
With the fame trash mad mortals with for here?
The Boy and Man an individual makes,
Yet fight thou now for apples and for cakes?
Go, like the Indian, in another lite
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife;
As well as dream fuch trifles are affign'd,
As toys and empires, for a godlike mind.
Rewards, that either would to Virtue bling
No joy, or be deftructive of the thing;
How oft by thefe at fixty are undone
The virtues of a faint at twenty-one!
To whom can Riches give Repute, or Truft,
Content, or Pleasure, but the Good and Juft?
Judges and Senates have been bought for gold;
Efteem and Love were never to be fold.

175

225

Not one looks backward, onward ftill he goes,
Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose.
No lefs alike the Politic and Wife:
All fly flow things, with circumípective eyes:
Men in their loote unguarded hours they take,
Not that themselves are wife, but others weak.
But grant that thofe can conquer, thefe can cheat;
'Tis phrafe abfurd to call a Villain Great:
Who wickedly is wife, or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, fmiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that Man is great indeed.

230

235

What's Fame a fancy'd life in others' breath,
A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death.
Juft what you hear, you have; and what's un-

known,

The fame (my Lord) if Tully's, or your own. 240
All that we feel of it begins and ends

180 In the fmall circle of our foes or friends;
To all befide as much an empty fhade
An Eugene living, as a Cæfar dead;

Alike or when, or where they fhone, or fhine, 245
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.

185 A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod;

Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,.
The lover and the love of human kind.
190
Whofe life is healthful, and whofe confcience clear,
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.

250

An honeft Man 's the nobleft work of God.
Fame but from death a villain's name can save,
As Juftice tears his body from the grave;
When what t' oblivion better were refign'd,
Is hung on high to poison half mankind.
All fame is fo eign, but of true defert;
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
One felf approving hour whole years out-weighs
Of ftupid ftarers, and of loud huzzas
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
[1951 hán Cæfar with a fenatè at his heels.

Honour and fhame from, np Condition rife;
A&t well your part, there all the honour lies..
Fortune in Men has fome fmall difference made,
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
'The cobler apron'd, and the parfon gown'd,
'The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
"What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl!"
Il tell you, friend! a wife man and a fool.
You'll find, if once the monarch as the monk,
Or, cobler-like, the parfon will be drunk,
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow:
The reft is all but leather or prunella.

260

In Parts fuperior what advantage lics?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wife?
'Tis but to know how little can be known ;
200 To fee all others faults, and feel our own:
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
Without a fecond, or without a judge:
Truths would you teach, or fave a finking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand. [265
Painful pre-eminence ! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.

Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with
ftrings,
205
That thou mayst he by kings, or whores of kings..
Boaft the pure blood of an illustrious race,
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece :
But by your father's worth if yours you rate,
Count me thofe only who were good and great. 210
Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood
Has crept through fcoundrels ever fince the flood,
Go! and pretend your family is young;
Nor own, your fathers have been fools fo long.
What can ennoble fots, or flaves, or cowards? 215
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
Look next on Greatness; fay where Greatnefs

275

Bring then these bleffings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions ; fee to what they mount: 270
How much of other each is fure to cost:
How much for other oft is wholly loft;
How inconfiftent greater goods with thefe ;
How fometimes life is risqu'd, and always ease:
Think, and if still the things thy envy call,
Say, wouldst thou be the Man to whom they fall?
To figh for ribbands if thou art so filly,
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the paffion of thy life;
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus wife.
If Parts allure thee, think how Bacon fhin'd,
The wifeft, brightest, meaneft of mankind :
Or ravish'd with the whistling of a Name,
220 See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!

"Where, but among the Heroes and the Wife ?". Heroes are much the fame, the point 's agreed, From Macedonia's madman to the Swede;

280

great,

If all, united, thy ambition call,
From ancient ftory, learn to fcorn them all.
There, in the rich, the honour'd, fam'd, and
See the falfe fcale of Happiness complete!
In hearts of Kings, or arms of Queens who lay,
How happy! thofe to ruin, thefe betray.
Mark by what wretched fteps their glory grows,
From dirt and fea-weed as proud Venice rofe;
In each how guilt and greatnefs equal ran,
And all that rais'd the Hero, funk the Man :
Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
But ftain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd for gold:
Then fee them broke with toils, or funk in cafe,
Or infamous for plunder'd provinces.
O! wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame

345

285 Till lengthen'd on to FAITH, and unconfin'd,
It pours the blifs that fills up all the mind.
He fees, why Nature plants in Man alone
Hope of known blifs, and Faith in bliss unknown:
(Nature, whofe dictates to no other kind
Are given in vain, but what they seek they find)
Wife is her prefent; she connects in this
His greateft Virtue with his greatest Blifs;
At once his own bright profpect to be bleft,
And strongest motive to affift the rest.

290

295

350

Self-love thus pufh'd to focial, to divine,
Gives thee to make thy neighbour's bleffing thine.
Is this too little for the boundless heart?
Extend it, let thy enemies have part;

355

Grafp the whole worlds of Reafon, Life, and Sense,

E'er taught to fhine, or fan&tify'd from shame! 300 In one close fyftem of Benevolence:

What greater blifs attends their close of life?
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife,
The trophy'd arches, story'd halls invade,

305

Happier as kindred, in whate'er degree,
And height of Blifs but height of Charity.

360

God loves from Whole to Parts: but human

foul

Muft rife from Individual to the Whole.
Self-love but ferves the virtuous mind to wake,
As the fmali pebble stirs the peaceful lake;
The centre mov'd, a circle straight fucceeds, 365
Another fill, and stili another spreads ;
310 Friend, parent, neighbour, fit it will embrace;
His country next; and next all human race;
Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
Take every creature in, of every kind;
Earth fmiles around, with boundless bounty bleft,
315 And Heaven beholds its image in his breast.

And haunt their flumbers in the pompous fhade.
Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray,
Compute the morn and evening to the day;
The whole amount of that enormous fame,
A Tale, that blends their glory with their fhame!
Know then this truth (enough for Man to know)
"Virtue alone is Happiness below."
The only point where human blifs stands still,
And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
Where only Merit conftant pay receives,
Is bleft in what it takes and what it gives ;
The joy unequal'd, if its end it gain,
And if it lofe, attended with no pain:
Without fatiety, though e'er fo blefs'd,
And but more relifh'd as the more diftrefs'd:
The broadeft mirth unfeeling Folly wears,
Lefs pleafing far than Virtue's very tears:
Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd,
For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd;
Never elated, while one man's opprefs'd;
Never dejected, while another's bleft;
And where ne wants, no wishes can remain,
Since but to with more Virtue, is to gain

See the fole blifs Heaven could on all bestow! Which who but feels can tafte, but thinks know:

can

370

Come then, my Friend! my Genius! come along;

Oh mafter of the poet, and the fong!

380

And while the Mufe now stoops, or now afcends,
320 To Man's low paffions, or their glorious ends, [375
Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper rife;
Form'd by thy converfe, happily to steer,
From grave to gay, from lively to fevere;
325 Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,
Intent to reafon, or polite to please.
Oh! while along the ftream of I ime thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
Say, fhall my little bark attendant fail,
Purfue the triumph. and partake the gale?
When ftatefmen, heroes, kings, in duft repofe,
Whofe fons fhall blush their fathers were thy foes,
Shall then this verfe to future age pretend
Thou wert my guide, philofopher, and friend? 390
That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art,
From founds to things, from fancy to the heart;
For Wit's falfe mirror held up Nature's light;
Shew'd erring Pride, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT;
That REASON, PASSION, anfwer one great aim;

335

Vet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
The bad must mifs; the good, untaught, will find;
Slave to no fect, who takes no private road, [330
But looks through Nature, up to Nature's God;
Pursues that Chain which links th' immenfe defign,
Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine ;
Sees, that no Being any blifs can know,
But touches fome above, and fome below;
Learns from this union of the rifing Whole,
The firft, laft purpose of the human foul;
And knows where Faith, Law, Morals, all began,
All end, in Love OF GOD, and LOVE OF MAN
For him alone, Hope leads from goal to goal, [340
And opens ftill, and opens on his foul;

385

And yet the fate of all extremes is fuch,
Men may be read, as well as Books, too much.
To obfervations which ourselves we make,
We grow more partial for th' Obferver's fake;
To written Wifdom, as another's, lefs:
Maxims are drawn from Notions, these from Guefs.
There's fome Peculiar in each leaf and grain,
Some unmark'd fibre, or fome varying vein:
Shall only Man be taken in the grofs?
Grant but as many forts of Mind as Mofs.

75

80

Early at Bufinefs, and at Hazard late;
10 Mad at a Fox chafe, wife at a Debate;
Drunk at a Borough, civil at a Ball;
Friendly at Hackney, faithful at Whitehall.
Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
Thinks who endurés a knave, is next a knave,
15 Save juft at dinner-then prefers, no doubt,
A Rogue with Venison to a Saint without.
Who would not praise Patricio's high defert,
His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
His comprehenfive head! all Interests weigh'd,
20 All Europe fav'd, yet Britain not betray'd.
He thanks you not, his Pride is in Picquette, 85
Newmarket-fame, and judgment at a Bett.
What made (fay, Montague, or more fage Char-
ron!)

That each from other differs, first confefs;
Next, that he varies from himself no lefs;
Add Nature's, Cuffom's, Reafon's, Paffion's ftrife,
And all Opinion's colours caft on life.

Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows finds,
Quick whirls, and shifting eddies, of our minds?
On human actions reason though you can,
It may be Reason, but it is not Man:
His Principle of action once explore,
That inftant 'tis his Principle no more.

Like following life through creatures you diffect,
You lofe it in the moment you detect.

Yet more; the difference is as great between
The optics feeing, as the objects feen.
All Manners take a tincture from our own;
Or come difcolour'd through our Paffions shown.
Or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.

Nor will Life's stream for obfervation stay,
It hurries all too fast to mark their way:
In vain fedate reflections we would make,
When half our knowledge we must fnatch,
take.

15 Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon?
A perjur'd Prince a leaden faint revere,
A godleís Regent tremble at a Star?
The throne a Bigot keep, a Genius quit,
Faithlefs through Piety, and dup'd through Wit?
30 Europe a Woman, Child, or Dotard rule,
And just her wifeft monarch made a fool?

Know, God and Nature only are the fame : 95
In Man, the judgment hoots at flying game;
A bird of paffage ! gone as foon as found,

35 Now in the Moon perhaps, now under ground.
In vain the fage, with retrospective eye,
Would from th' apparent What conclude the Why,

100

Infer the Motive from the Deed, and shew, not That what we chanc'd was what we meant to do. 40 Behold if Fortune or a Mistress frowns,

105

Some plunge in bufinefs, others fhave their crowns:
To eafe the foul of one oppreffive weight,
This quits an Empire, that embroils a State:
The fame aduft complexion has impell'd
45 Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Field.

Oft, in the Paffion's wild rotation tost,
Our spring of action to ourselves is loft:
Tir'd, not determin'd, to the last we yield,
And what comes then is master of the field.
As the last image of that troubled heap,
When fenfe fubfides and fancy sports in fleep,
(Though paft the recollection of the thought)
Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought:
Something as dim to our internal view,
Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do.

50

55

True, fome are open, and to all men known;
Others, fo very close, they 're hid from none;
(So darkness ftrikes the fenfe no less than light)
Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at fight;
And every child hates Shylock, though his foul
Still fits at fquat, and peeps not from its hole.
At half mankind when generous Manly raves,
All know 'tis Virtue, for he thinks them knaves :
When univerfal homage Umbra pays,
All fee 'tis Vice, and itch of vulgar praife.
When Flattery glares, all hate it in a Queen,
While one there is who charms us with his Spleen.
But thefe plain Characters we rarely find:
Though ftrong the bent, yet quick the turns
mind:

Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole;
Or Affectations quite reverse the foul.

The Dull, flat Falfehood ferves, for policy;
And in the Cunning, Truth jtfelf's a lie.
Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wife;
The Fool lies hid in inconfiftencies.

See the fame man, in vigour, in the gout;
Alone, in company; in place, or out;

60

of

The few that glare, each character must mark,
You balance not the many in the dark.
What will you do with fuch as difagree?
Supprefs them, or mifcall them policy?
Muft then at once (the character to fave)
The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knave?
65 Alas in truth the man but chang'd his mind,
Perhaps was fick, in love, or had not din'd.
Afk why from Britain Cæfar could retreat?
Cæfar himfelf might whisper, he was beat.
Why risk the World's great empire for a Punk?
70 Cæfar perhaps might anfwer, he was drunk.
But, fage hiftorians! 'tis your task to prove
One action Conduct; one, heroic Love.

125

130

'Tis

In this one paffion man can strength enjoy, As Fits give vigour, just when they destroy. 160 Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand, Yet tames not this; it flicks to our laft fand. 225 Confiftent in our follies and our fins. Here honeft nature ends as fhe begins.

Old Politicians chew on wifdom past, 165 And totter on in business to the laft;

As weak, as earneft; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanefborow dancing in the gout.
Behold a reverend fire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall pernaps, or rudely prefs'd
By his own fon, that paffes by unblefs'd: 235
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies every fparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late:
"Mercy," cries Helluo, "mercy on my foul! 240
"Is there no hope?-Alas! then bring the jowl."
The frugal Crone, whom praying priests at-
tend,

Still ftrives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, 180 Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires,

For one puff more, and in that puff expires. "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a faint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narciffa (poke) "No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace, 185 "Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifelefs face: One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead

250 " And-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." The Courtier smooth, who forty years had fhin'd An humble fervant to all human-kind, Juft brought out this, when fcarce his tongue could ftir.

"If-where I'am going-I cou'd ferve you, Sir!" "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid, 195 And figh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned " Your money, Sir?" My money, Sir! what all? “Why—if I must-(then wept) I give st Paul