Qgp66EbS

1A shepherd's boy he seeks no better name
2Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame,
3Where dancing sunbeams on the waters play'd,
4And verdant alders form'd a quivering shade.
5Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to flow,
6The flocks around a dumb compassion show:
7The Naads wept in every watery bower,
8And Jove consented in a silent shower.
9Accept, O Garth the Muse's early lays,
10That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays;                
11Hear what from love unpractised hearts endure:
12From love, the sole disease thou canst not cure.
13Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling streams,
14Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams,
15To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I sing,
16The woods shall answer, and their echo ring.
17The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay;
18Why art thou prouder and more hard than they?
19The bleating sheep with my complaints agree,
20They parch'd with heat, and I inflamed by thee.          
21The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains,
22While in thy heart eternal winter reigns.
23Where stray ye, Muses, in what lawn or grove,
24While your Alexis pines in hopeless love?
25In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
26Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?
27As in the crystal spring I view my face,
28Fresh rising blushes paint the watery glass;
29But since those graces please thy eyes no more,
30I shun the fountains which I sought before.              
31Once I was skill'd in every herb that grew,
32And every plant that drinks the morning dew;
33Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art,
34To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart!
35Let other swains attend the rural care,
36Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear:
37But nigh yon mountain let me tune my lays,
38Embrace my love, and bind my brows with bays.
39That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful breath
40Inspired when living, and bequeath'd in death;           
41He said, Alexis, take this pipethe same
42That taught the groves my Rosalinda's name:
43But now the reeds shall hang on yonder tree,
44For ever silent, since despised by thee.
45Oh! were I made by some transforming power
46The captive bird that sings within thy bower!
47Then might my voice thy listening ears employ,
48And I those kisses he receives, enjoy.
49And yet my numbers please the rural throng,
50Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song:           
51The Nymphs, forsaking every cave and spring,
52Their early fruit, and milk-white turtles bring;
53Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain.
54On you their gifts are all bestow'd again.
55For you the swains the fairest flowers design,
56And in one garland all their beauties join;
57Accept the wreath which you deserve alone,
58In whom all beauties are comprised in one.
59See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!
60Descending gods have found Elysium here.                 
61In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd,
62And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade.
63Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent hours,
64When swains from shearing seek their nightly bowers,
65When weary reapers quit the sultry field,
66And crown'd with corn their thanks to Ceres yield;
67This harmless grove no lurking viper hides,
68But in my breast the serpent love abides.
69Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew,
70But your Alexis knows no sweets but you.                 
71Oh, deign to visit our forsaken seats,
72The mossy fountains, and the green retreats!
73Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade,
74Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade:
75Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise,
76And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
77Oh, how I long with you to pass my days,
78Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise!
79Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove,
80And winds shall waft it to the Powers above.             
81But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain,
82The wondering forests soon should dance again,
83The moving mountains hear the powerful call,
84And headlong streams hang listening in their fall!
85But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat,
86The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat,
87To closer shades the panting flocks remove;
88Ye gods! and is there no relief for love?
89But soon the sun with milder rays descends
90To the cool ocean, where his journey ends:               
91On me Love's fiercer flames for ever prey,
92By night he scorches, as he burns by day.
93Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs along!
94The birds shall cease to tune their evening song,        
95The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move,
96And streams to murmur, ere I cease to love.
97Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
98Not balmy sleep to labourers faint with pain,
99Not showers to larks, or sunshine to the bee,
100Are half so charming as thy sight to me.
101Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs away!
102Come, Delia, come; ah, why this long delay?
103Through rocks and caves the name of Delia sounds,
104Delia, each care and echoing rock rebounds.              
105Ye Powers, what pleasing frenzy soothes my mind!
106Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind?
107She comes, my Delia comes!Now cease, my lay,
108And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs away!
109Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
110Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day:
111Oft on the rind I carved her amorous vows,
112While she with garlands hung the bending boughs:
113The garlands fade, the vows are worn away;
114So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.                 
115Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strain!
116Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming grain,
117Now golden fruits on loaded branches shine,
118And grateful clusters swell with floods of wine;
119Now blushing berries paint the yellow grove;
120Just gods! shall all things yield returns but love?
121Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
122The shepherds cry, Thy flocks are left a prey'
123Ah! what avails it me, the flocks to keep,
124Who lost my heartwhile I preserved my sheep.           
125Pan came, and ask'd, what magic caused my smart,
126Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart?
127What eyes but hers, alas, have power to move?
128And is there magic but what dwells in love?
129Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful strains!
130I'll fly from shepherds, flocks, and flowery plains.
131From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove,
132Forsake mankind, and all the worldbut Love!
133I know thee, Love! on foreign mountains bred,
134Wolves gave thee suck, and savage tigers fed.            
135Thou wert from Etna's burning entrails torn,
136Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born!
137Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful lay!
138Farewell, ye woods; adieu, the light of day!
139One leap from yonder cliff shall end my pains;
140No more, ye hills, no more resound my strains!
141Thus sung the shepherds till the approach of night,
142The skies yet blushing with departing light,
143When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
144And the low sun had lengthen'd every shade.   
145Thyrsis, the music of that murmuring spring
146Is not so mournful as the strains you sing;
147Nor rivers winding through the vales below,
148So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow.
149Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces lie,
150The moon, serene in glory, mounts the sky,
151While silent birds forget their tuneful lays,
152Oh sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's praise!
153Behold the groves that shine with silver frost,
154Their beauty wither'd, and their verdure lost.           
155Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain,
156That call'd the listening Dryads to the plain?
157Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd along,
158And bade his willows learn the moving song.
159So may kind rains their vital moisture yield
160And swell the future harvest of the field.
161Begin; this charge the dying Daphne gave,
162And said, Ye shepherds, sing around my grave!
163Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I mourn,
164And with fresh bays her rural shrine adorn.
165Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring,
166Let nymphs and sylvans cypress garlands bring;
167Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles hide,
168And break your bows, as when Adonis died;
169And with your golden darts, now useless grown,
170Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone:
171Let Nature change, let Heaven and Earth deplore,
172Fair Daphne's dead, and Love is now no more!
173Tis done, and Nature's various charms decay;
174See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day!              
175Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
176Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier.
177See where, on earth, the flowery glories lie,
178With her they flourish'd, and with her they die.
179Ah, what avail the beauties Nature wore,
180Fair Daphne's dead, and Beauty is no more!
181For her the flocks refuse their verdant food,
182The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood,
183The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan,
184In notes more sad than when they sing their own;         
185In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies,
186Silent, or only to her name replies;
187Her name with pleasure once she taught the shore;
188Now Daphne's dead, and Pleasure is no more!
189No grateful dews descend from evening skies,
190Nor morning odours from the flowers arise;
191No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field,
192Nor fragrant herbs their native incense yield.
193The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
194Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath;                  
195Th' industrious bees neglect their golden store;
196Fair Daphne's dead, and Sweetness is no more!
197No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings,
198Shall, listening in mid air, suspend their wings;
199No more the birds shall imitate her lays,
200Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the sprays:
201No more the streams their murmurs shall forbear,
202A sweeter music than their own to hear;
203But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore,
204Fair Daphne's dead, and Music is no more!                
205Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
206And told in sighs to all the trembling trees;
207The trembling trees, in every plain and wood,
208Her fate remurmur to the silver flood;
209The silver flood, so lately calm, appears
210Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows with tears;
211The winds and trees and floods her death deplore,
212Daphne, our grief, our glory now no more!
213But see! where Daphne wondering mounts on high
214Above the clouds, above the starry sky!                  
215Eternal beauties grace the shining scene,
216Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green!
217There while you rest in amaranthine bowers,
218Or from those meads select unfading flowers,
219Behold us kindly, who your name implore,
220Daphne, our goddess, and our grief no more!
221Rapt into future times, the bard begun:
222A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son!
223From Jesse's root behold the branch arise,
224Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies:      
225The ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
226And on its top descends the mystic Dove.
227Ye Heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour,
228And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!
229The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,
230From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.
231All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail;
232Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;
233Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
234And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.           
235Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
236Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
237See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
238With all the incense of the breathing spring!
239See lofty Lebanon his head advance,
240See nodding forests on the mountains dance:
241See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise,
242And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!
243Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;
244Prepare the way! a God, a God appears:'                 
245A God, a God!' the vocal hills reply,
246The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
247Lo, Earth receives him from the bending skies!
248Sink down, ye mountains, and ye valleys, rise;
249With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay;
250Be smooth, ye rocks, ye rapid floods, give way!
251The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:
252Hear him, ye deaf, and all ye blind, behold!
253He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
254And on the sightless eyeball pour the day:               
255Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
256And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear:
257The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
258And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
259No sigh, no murmur the wide world shall hear,
260From every face he wipes off every tear.
261In adamantine chains shall Death be bound,
262And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
263As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
264Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air,               
265Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
266By day o'ersees them, and by night protects,
267The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
268Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms;
269Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
270The promised Father of the future age.
271No more shall nation against nation rise,
272Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
273Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
274The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;                 
275But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
276And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
277Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
278Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
279Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
280And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field;
281The swain in barren deserts with surprise
282See lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
283And start, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear
284New falls of water murmuring in his ear.                 
285On rifted rocks, the dragons' late abodes,
286The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods,
287Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
288The spiry fir, and shapely box adorn:
289To leafless shrubs the flowering palms succeed,
290And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.
291The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
292And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead;
293The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
294And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.           
295The smiling infant in his hand shall take
296The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
297Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
298And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
299Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise!
300Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
301See, a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
302See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
303In crowding ranks on every side arise,
304Demanding life, impatient for the skies!                 
305See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
306Walk in thy light and in thy temple bend;
307See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
308And heap'd with products of Sabean springs!
309For thee Idum's spicy forests blow,
310And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
311See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
312And break upon thee in a flood of day!
313No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
314Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;               
315But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
316One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
317O'erflow thy courts: The Light himself shall shine
318Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
319The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
320Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
321But fix'd his word, his saving power remains;
322Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!
323Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
324Appear in writing or in judging ill;
325But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence
326To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
327Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
328Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
329A fool might once himself alone expose,
330Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
331Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
332Go just alike, yet each believes his own.                
333In poets as true genius is but rare,
334True taste as seldom, is the critic's share;
335Both must alike from Heaven derive their light,
336These born to judge, as well as those to write.
337Let such teach others who themselves excel.
338And censure freely who have written well.
339Authors are partial to their wit, tis true,
340But are not critics to their judgment too?
341Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
342Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:           
343Nature affords at least a glimmering light;
344The lines, though touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.
345But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
346Is by ill colouring but the more disgraced,
347So by false learning is good sense defaced:
348Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
349And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.
350In search of wit these lose their common sense,
351And then turn critics in their own defence:
352Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,              
353Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's spite.
354All fools have still an itching to deride,
355And fain would be upon the laughing side;
356If Maevius scribble in Apollo's spite,
357There are who judge still worse than he can write.
358Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd,
359Turn'd critics next, and proved plain fools at last.
360Some neither can for wits nor critics pass,
361As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
362Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,       
363As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
364Unfinished things, one knows not what to call,
365Their generation's so equivocal:
366To tell em would a hundred tongues require,
367Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
368But you who seek to give and merit fame,
369And justly bear a critic's noble name,
370Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
371How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
372Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,           
373And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
374Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
375And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
376As on the land while here the ocean gains,
377In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
378Thus in the soul while memory prevails,
379The solid power of understanding fails;
380Where beams of warm imagination play,
381The memory's soft figures melt away.
382One science only will one genius fit,                    
383So vast is art, so narrow human wit:
384Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
385But oft in those confined to single parts.
386Like kings, we lose the conquests gain'd before,
387By vain ambition still to make them more;
388Each might his several province well command,
389Would all but stoop to what they understand.
390First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
391By her just standard, which is still the same:
392Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,                  
393One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
394Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
395At once the source, and end, and test of Art.
396Art from that fund each just supply provides,
397Works without show, and without pomp presides;
398In some fair body thus the informing soul
399With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
400Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains,
401Itself unseen, but in the effects, remains.
402Some, to whom Heaven in wit has been profuse,            
403Want as much more to turn it to its use;
404For wit and judgment often are at strife,
405Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife,
406Tis more to guide than spur the Muse's steed,
407Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
408The wingd courser, like a generous horse,
409Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
410Those rules, of old discover'd, not devised,
411Are Nature still, but Nature methodised;
412Nature, like liberty, is but restrain'd                  
413By the same laws which first herself ordain'd.
414Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites,
415When to repress, and when indulge our flights:
416High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd,
417And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;
418Held from afar, aloft, the immortal prize,
419And urged the rest by equal steps to rise.
420Just precepts thus from great examples given,
421She drew from them what they derived from Heaven.
422The generous critic fann'd the poet's fire,             
423And taught the world with reason to admire.
424Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid proved,
425To dress her charms, and make her more beloved:
426But following wits from that intention stray'd,
427Who could not win the mistress, woo'd the maid;
428Against the poets their own arms they turn'd,
429Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd.
430So modern pothecaries, taught the art,
431By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
432Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,                 
433Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
434Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey,
435Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they.
436Some drily plain, without invention's aid,
437Write dull receipts how poems may be made.
438These leave the sense, their learning to display,
439And those explain the meaning quite away.
440You then, whose judgment the right course would steer,
441Know well each ancient's proper character;
442His fable, subject, scope in every page;                
443Religion, country, genius of his age;
444Without all these at once before your eyes,
445Cavil you may, but never criticise.
446Be Homer's works your study and delight,
447Read them by day, and meditate by night;
448Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring,
449And trace the Muses upward to their spring.
450Still with itself compared, his text peruse;
451And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.
452When first young Maro in his boundless mind,            
453A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd,
454Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,
455And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw:
456But when t' examine every part he came,
457Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.
458Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design,
459And rules as strict his labour'd work confine,
460As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line.
461Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
462To copy nature is to copy them.                         
463Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
464For there's a happiness as well as care.
465Music resembles poetry, in each
466Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
467And which a master-hand alone can reach.
468If, where the rules not far enough extend,
469Since rules were made but to promote their end
470Some lucky license answer to the full
471The intent proposed, that license is a rule;
472Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,                     
473May boldly deviate from the common track;
474Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
475And rise to faults true critics dare not mend,
476From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
477And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art,
478Which, without passing through the judgment, gains
479The heart, and all its end at once attains.
480In prospects thus, some objects please our eyes,
481Which out of nature's common order rise,
482The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.               
483But though the ancients thus their rules invade,
484As kings dispense with laws themselves have made
485Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
486Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
487Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need,
488And have at least their precedent to plead.
489The critic else proceeds without remorse,
490Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
491I know there are, to whose presumptuous thoughts,
492Those freer beauties, even in them, seem faults.        
493Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear,
494Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
495Which, but proportion'd to their light, or place,
496Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
497A prudent chief not always must display
498His powers in equal ranks, and fair array,
499But with the occasion and the place comply,
500Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly.
501Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
502Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.                
503Still green with bays each ancient altar stands,
504Above the reach of sacrilegious hands;
505Secure from flames, from envy's fiercer rage,
506Destructive war, and all-involving age.
507See from each clime the learn'd their incense bring!
508Hear in all tongues consenting paeans ring!
509In praise so just let every voice be join'd,
510And fill the general chorus of mankind.
511Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days;
512Immortal heirs of universal praise!                     
513Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
514As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
515Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
516And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
517Oh may some spark of your celestial fire,
518The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
519That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights,
520Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes
521To teach vain wits a science little known,
522T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own!
523Of all the causes which conspire to blind
524Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
525What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
526Is PRIDE, the never-failing vice of fools.
527Whatever Nature has in worth denied,
528She gives in large recruits of needless pride;
529For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find
530What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind:
531Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence,
532And fills up all the mighty void of sense:              
533If once right reason drives that cloud away,
534Truth breaks upon us with resistless day.
535Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,
536Make use of every friendand every foe.
537A little learning is a dangerous thing;
538Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
539There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
540And drinking largely sobers us again.
541Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
542In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts,         
543While from the bounded level of our mind,
544Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind;
545But, more advanced, behold with strange surprise,
546New distant scenes of endless science rise!
547So, pleased at first the towering Alps we try,
548Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky,
549The eternal snows appear already past,
550And the first clouds and mountains seem the last:
551But, those attain'd, we tremble to survey
552The growing labours of the lengthen'd way,              
553The increasing prospect tires our wandering eyes,
554Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
555A perfect judge will read each work of wit
556With the same spirit that its author writ:
557Survey the WHOLE, nor seek slight faults to find
558Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;
559Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight,
560The generous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.
561But in such lays as neither ebb nor flow,
562Correctly cold, and regularly low,                      
563That, shunning faults, one quiet tenor keep,
564We cannot blame indeedbut we may sleep.
565In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts
566Is not the exactness of peculiar parts;
567Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
568But the joint force and full result of all.
569Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome,
570The world's just wonder, and even thine, O Rome!
571No single parts unequally surprise,
572All comes united to th' admiring eyes;                  
573No monstrous height, or breadth, or length appear;
574The whole at once is bold, and regular.
575Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
576Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
577In every work regard the writer's end,
578Since none can compass more than they intend;
579And if the means be just, the conduct true,
580Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
581As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit,
582To avoid great errors, must the less commit:            
583Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,
584For not to know some trifles is a praise.
585Most critics, fond of some subservient art,
586Still make the whole depend upon a part:
587They talk of principles, but notions prize,
588And all to one loved folly sacrifice.
589Once on a time, La Mancha's knight, they say,
590A certain bard encountering on the way,
591Discoursed in terms as just, with looks as sage,
592As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage;             
593Concluding all were desperate sots and fools,
594Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules.
595Our author, happy in a judge so nice,
596Produced his play, and begg'd the knight's advice;
597Made him observe the subject, and the plot,
598The Manners, Passions, Unities; what not?
599All which, exact to rule, were brought about,
600Were but a combat in the lists left out.
601What! leave the combat out?' exclaims the knight.
602Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.'               
603Not so, by Heaven!' he answers in a rage;
604Knights, squires, and steeds must enter on the stage.
605So vast a throng the stage can ne'er contain.
606Then build a new, or act it in a plain.
607Thus critics, of less judgment than caprice,
608Curious, not knowing, not exact but nice,
609Form short ideas, and offend in arts
610As most in manners by a love to parts.
611Some to conceit alone their taste confine,
612And glittering thoughts struck out at every line;       
613Pleased with a work where nothing's just or fit;
614One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
615Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace
616The naked nature and the living grace,
617With gold and jewels cover every part,
618And hide with ornaments their want of art.
619True wit is nature to advantage dress'd;
620What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd;
621Something, whose truth convinced at sight we find,
622That gives us back the image of our mind.               
623As shades more sweetly recommend the light,
624So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.
625For works may have more wit than does em good,
626As bodies perish through excess of blood.
627Others for language all their care express,
628And value books, as women men, for dress:
629Their praise is still'The style is excellent;
630The sense, they humbly take upon content.
631Words are like leaves, and where they most abound,
632Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.            
633False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
634Its gaudy colours spreads on every place;
635The face of Nature we no more survey,
636All glares alike, without distinction gay;
637But true expression, like the unchanging sun,
638Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon;
639It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
640Expression is the dress of thought, and still
641Appears more decent, as more suitable;
642A vile conceit in pompous words express'd,              
643Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd:
644For different styles with different subjects sort,
645As several garbs with country, town, and court.
646Some by old words to fame have made pretence,
647Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense;
648Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
649Amaze the unlearn'd, and make the learnd smile.
650Unlucky, as Fungoso in the play,
651These sparks with awkward vanity display
652What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;                 
653And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
654As apes our grandsires, in their doublets dress'd.
655In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold;
656Alike fantastic, if too new, or old:
657Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
658Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
659But most by numbers judge a poet's song;
660And smooth or rough, with them, is right or wrong:
661In the bright Muse, though thousand charms conspire,
662Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire;            
663Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear,
664Not mend their minds; as some to church repair,
665Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
666These equal syllables alone require,
667Though oft the ear the open vowels tire;
668While expletives their feeble aid do join,
669And ten low words oft creep in one dull line:
670While they ring round the same unvaried chimes,
671With sure returns of still expected rhymes;
672Where'er you find the cooling western breeze,'         
673In the next line, it whispers through the trees:
674If crystal streams with pleasing murmurs creep,
675The reader's threaten'd not in vain with sleep:
676Then, at the last and only couplet fraught
677With some unmeaning thing they call a thought,
678A needless Alexandrine ends the song
679That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
680Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and know
681What's roundly smooth, or languishingly slow;
682And praise the easy vigour of a line,                   
683Where Denham's strength, and Waller's sweetness join.
684True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
685As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
686Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
687The sound must seem an echo to the sense;
688Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
689And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows:
690But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
691The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar.
692When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,     
693The line too labours, and the words move slow;
694Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
695Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main.
696Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise,
697And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
698While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove
699Now burns with glory, and then melts with love;
700Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow,
701Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow:
702Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,         
703And the world's victor stood subdued by sound!
704The power of music all our hearts allow,
705And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.
706Avoid extremes; and shun the fault of such
707Who still are pleased, too little or too much.
708At every trifle scorn to take offence:
709That always shows great pride or little sense;
710Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the best
711Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest.
712Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture move,             
713For fools admire, but men of sense approve:
714As things seem large which we through mists descry,
715Dulness is ever apt to magnify.
716Some, foreign writers, some, our own despise;
717The ancients only, or the moderns prize.
718Thus wit, like faith, by each man is applied
719To one small sect, and all are damn'd beside.
720Meanly they seek the blessing to confine,
721And force that sun but on a part to shine,
722Which not alone the southern wit sublimes,              
723But ripens spirits in cold northern climes;
724Which from the first has shone on ages past,
725Enlights the present, and shall warm the last;
726Though each may feel increases and decays,
727And see now clearer and now darker days.
728Regard not then if wit be old or new,
729But blame the false, and value still the true.
730Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own,
731But catch the spreading notion of the town;
732They reason and conclude by precedent,                  
733And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent.
734Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then
735Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
736Of all this servile herd, the worst is he
737That in proud dulness joins with quality;
738A constant critic at the great man's board,
739To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord.
740What woful stuff this madrigal would be,
741In some starved hackney sonnetteer, or me?
742But let a lord once own the happy lines                 
743How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
744Before his sacred name flies every fault,
745And each exalted stanza teems with thought!
746The vulgar thus through imitation err;
747As oft the learn'd by being singular:
748So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng
749By chance go right, they purposely go wrong:
750So schismatics the plain believers quit,
751And are but damn'd for having too much wit.
752Some praise at morning what they blame at night,        
753But always think the last opinion right.
754A Muse by these is like a mistress used,
755This hour she's idolised, the next abused;
756While their weak heads, like towns unfortified,
757Twixt sense and nonsense daily change their side.
758Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say;
759And still to-morrow's wiser than to-day.
760We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow;
761Our wiser sons, no doubt, will think us so.
762Once school-divines this zealous isle o'erspread;       
763Who knew most sentences, was deepest read;
764Faith, Gospel, all, seem'd made to be disputed,
765And none had sense enough to be confuted:
766Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain,
767Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.
768If Faith itself has different dresses worn,
769What wonder modes in wit should take their turn?
770Oft, leaving what is natural and fit,
771The current folly proves the ready wit,
772And authors think their reputation safe                 
773Which lives as long as fools are pleased to laugh.
774Some valuing those of their own side or mind,
775Still make themselves the measure of mankind:
776Fondly we think we honour merit then,
777When we but praise ourselves in other men.
778Parties in wit attend on those of state,
779And public faction doubles private hate.
780Pride, malice, folly, against Dryden rose,
781In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaux;
782But sense survived, when merry jests were past;         
783For rising merit will buoy up at last.
784Might he return, and bless once more our eyes,
785New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise:
786Nay, should great Homer lift his awful head,
787Zoilus again would start up from the dead.
788Envy will Merit, as its shade, pursue,
789But like a shadow, proves the substance true;
790For envied wit, like Sol eclipsed, makes known
791The opposing body's grossness, not its own.
792When first that sun too powerful beams displays,        
793It draws up vapours which obscure its rays;
794But even those clouds at last adorn its way,
795Reflect new glories, and augment the day.
796Be thou the first true merit to befriend;
797His praise is lost, who stays till all commend.
798Short is the date, alas! of modern rhymes,
799And tis but just to let them live betimes.
800No longer now that golden age appears,
801When patriarch-wits survived a thousand years:
802Now length of fame our second life is lost,           
803And bare threescore is all even that can boast;
804Our sons their fathers' failing language see,
805And such as Chaucer is, shall Dryden be.
806So when the faithful pencil has design'd
807Some bright idea of the master's mind,
808Where a new world leaps out at his command,
809And ready Nature waits upon his hand;
810When the ripe colours soften and unite,
811And sweetly melt into just shade and light;
812When mellowing years their full perfection give,        
813And each bold figure just begins to live,
814The treacherous colours the fair art betray,
815And all the bright creation fades away!
816Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things,
817Atones not for that envy which it brings.
818In youth alone its empty praise we boast,
819But soon the short-lived vanity is lost:
820Like some fair flower the early spring supplies,
821That gaily blooms, but even in blooming dies.
822What is this wit, which must our cares employ?          
823The owner's wife, that other men enjoy;
824Then most our trouble still when most admired,
825And still the more we give, the more required;
826Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose with ease,
827Sure some to vex, but never all to please;
828Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun,
829By fools tis hated, and by knaves undone!
830If wit so much from ignorance undergo,
831Ah, let not learning too commence its foe!
832Of old, those met rewards who could excel,              
833And such were praised who but endeavour'd well:
834Though triumphs were to generals only due,
835Crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.
836Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown,
837Employ their pains to spurn some others down;
838And while self-love each jealous writer rules,
839Contending wits become the sport of fools:
840But still the worst with most regret commend,
841For each ill author is as bad a friend.                 
842To what base ends, and by what abject ways,
843Are mortals urged through sacred lust of praise!
844Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast,
845Nor in the critic let the man be lost.
846Good-nature and good-sense must ever join;
847To err is humanto forgive, divine.
848But if in noble minds some dregs remain,
849Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour disdain;
850Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes,
851Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.            
852No pardon vile obscenity should find,
853Though wit and art conspire to move your mind;
854But dulness with obscenity must prove
855As shameful sure as impotence in love.
856In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,
857Sprung the rank weed, and thrived with large increase:
858When love was all an easy monarch's care;
859Seldom at council, never in a war:
860Jilts ruled the state, and statesmen farces writ;
861Nay, wits had pensions, and young lords had wit;        
862The fair sat panting at a courtier's play,
863And not a mask went unimproved away:
864The modest fan was lifted up no more,
865And virgins smiled at what they blush'd before.
866The following license of a foreign reign
867Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;
868Then unbelieving priests reform'd the nation,
869And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;
870Where Heaven's free subjects might their rights dispute,
871Lest God himself should seem too absolute:              
872Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare,
873And vice admired to find a flatterer there!
874Encouraged thus, wit's Titans braved the skies,
875And the press groan'd with licensed blasphemies.
876These monsters, critics! with your darts engage,
877Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!
878Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice,
879Will needs mistake an author into vice;
880All seems infected that the infected spy,
881As all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye. 
882The rhyming clowns that gladded Shakspeare's age,
883No more with crambo entertain the stage.
884Who now in anagrams their patron praise,
885Or sing their mistress in acrostic lays?
886Even pulpits pleased with merry puns of yore;
887Now all are banish'd to the Hibernian shore!
888Thus leaving what was natural and fit,
889The current folly proved their ready wit;
890And authors thought their reputation safe,
891Which lived as long as fools were pleased to laugh.
892Learn, then, what MORALS critics ought to show,
893For tis but half a judge's task to know.
894Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning join;
895In all you speak, let truth and candour shine:
896That not alone what to your sense is due
897All may allow; but seek your friendship too.
898Be silent always when you doubt your sense;
899And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence:
900Some positive, persisting fops we know,
901Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so;            
902But you, with pleasure own your errors past,
903And make each day a critique on the last.
904Tis not enough your counsel still be true;
905Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do;
906Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
907And things unknown proposed as things forgot.
908Without good-breeding, truth is disapproved;
909That only makes superior sense beloved.
910Be niggards of advice on no pretence;
911For the worst avarice is that of sense.                 
912With mean complaisance ne'er betray your trust,
913Nor be so civil as to prove unjust.
914Fear not the anger of the wise to raise;
915Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.
916Twere well might critics still this freedom take,
917But Appius reddens at each word you speak,
918And stares tremendous, with a threatening eye,
919Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry.
920Fear most to tax an Honourable fool,
921Whose right it is, uncensured, to be dull;              
922Such, without wit, are poets when they please,
923As without learning they can take degrees.
924Leave dangerous truths to unsuccessful satires,
925And flattery to fulsome dedicators,
926Whom, when they praise, the world believes no more,
927Than when they promise to give scribbling o'er.
928Tis best sometimes your censure to restrain,
929And charitably let the dull be vain:
930Your silence there is better than your spite,
931For who can rail so long as they can write?             
932Still humming on, their drowsy course they keep,
933And lash'd so long, like tops, are lash'd asleep.
934False steps but help them to renew the race,
935As, after stumbling, jades will mend their pace.
936What crowds of these, impenitently bold,
937In sounds and jingling syllables grown old,
938Still run on poets, in a raging vein,
939Even to the dregs and squeezings of the brain,
940Strain out the last dull droppings of their sense,
941And rhyme with all the rage of impotence!               
942Such shameless bards we have; and yet tis true,
943There are as mad, abandon'd critics too.
944The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read,
945With loads of learnd lumber in his head,
946With his own tongue still edifies his ears,
947And always listening to himself appears.
948All books he reads, and all he reads assails,
949From Dryden's Fables down to D'Urfey's Tales.
950With him, most authors steal their works, or buy;
951Garth did not write his own Dispensary.              
952Name a new play, and he's the poet's friend,
953Nay, show'd his faultsbut when would poets mend?
954No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd,
955Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's churchyard:
956Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead:
957For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
958Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks,
959It still looks home, and short excursions makes;
960But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks,
961And, never shock'd, and never turn'd aside,             
962Bursts out, resistless, with a thundering tide.
963But where's the man, who counsel can bestow,
964Still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know?
965Unbiass'd, or by favour, or by spite;
966Not dully prepossess'd, nor blindly right;
967Though learn'd, well-bred; and though well-bred, sincere;
968Modestly bold, and humanly severe:
969Who to a friend his faults can freely show,
970And gladly praise the merit of a foe?
971Bless'd with a taste exact, yet unconfined;             
972A knowledge both of books and human kind;
973Generous converse; a soul exempt from pride;
974And love to praise, with reason on his side?
975Such once were critics; such the happy few,
976Athens and Rome in better ages knew.
977The mighty Stagyrite first left the shore,
978Spread all his sails, and durst the deeps explore;
979He steer'd securely, and discover'd far,
980Led by the light of the Maeonian star.
981Poets, a race long unconfined, and free,                
982Still fond and proud of savage liberty,
983Received his laws; and stood convinced twas fit,
984Who conquer'd Nature, should preside o'er Wit.
985Horace still charms with graceful negligence,
986And without method talks us into sense,
987Will, like a friend, familiarly convey
988The truest notions in the easiest way.
989He who, supreme in judgment, as in wit,
990Might boldly censure, as he boldly writ,
991Yet judged with coolness, though he sung with fire;
992His precepts teach but what his works inspire.          
993Our critics take a contrary extreme,
994They judge with fury, but they write with phlegm:
995Nor suffers Horace more in wrong translations
996By wits, than critics in as wrong quotations.
997See Dionysius Homer's thoughts refine,
998And call new beauties forth from every line!
999Fancy and art in gay Petronius please,
1000The scholar's learning, with the courtier's ease.
1001In grave Quintilian's copious work we find              
1002The justest rules and clearest method join'd:
1003Thus useful arms in magazines we place,
1004All ranged in order, and disposed with grace,
1005But less to please the eye, than arm the hand,
1006Still fit for use, and ready at command.
1007Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire,
1008And bless their critic with a poet's fire.
1009An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust,
1010With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just;
1011Whose own example strengthens all his laws;             
1012And is himself that Great Sublime he draws.
1013Thus long succeeding critics justly reign'd,
1014Licence repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd.
1015Learning and Rome alike in empire grew;
1016And arts still follow'd where her eagles flew;
1017From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom,
1018And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome.
1019With Tyranny then Superstition join'd,
1020As that the body, this enslaved the mind;
1021Much was believed, but little understood,               
1022And to be dull was construed to be good;
1023A second deluge Learning thus o'errun,
1024And the Monks finish'd what the Goths begun.
1025At length Erasmus, that great injured name,
1026The glory of the priesthood, and the shame!
1027Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barbarous age,
1028And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.
1029But see! each Muse, in Leo's golden days,
1030Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays,
1031Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread,           
1032Shakes off the dust, and rears his reverend head.
1033Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive;
1034Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live;
1035With sweeter notes each rising temple rung:
1036A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung:
1037Immortal Vida! on whose honour'd brow
1038The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow;
1039Cremona now shall ever boast thy name,
1040As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!
1041But soon by impious arms from Latium chased,            
1042Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd;
1043Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance,
1044But critic-learning flourish'd most in France:
1045The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys;
1046And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.
1047But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised,
1048And kept unconquer'd and uncivilised;
1049Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,
1050We still defied the Romans, as of old.
1051Yet some there were, among the sounder few              
1052Of those who less presumed, and better knew,
1053Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,
1054And here restored Wit's fundamental laws.
1055Such was the Muse, whose rules and practice tell,
1056Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.
1057Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good,
1058With manners generous as his noble blood;
1059To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
1060And every author's merit, but his own.
1061Such late was Walshthe Muse's judge and friend,       
1062Who justly knew to blame or to commend;
1063To failings mild, but zealous for desert;
1064The clearest head, and the sincerest heart.
1065This humble praise, lamented Shade! receive,
1066This praise at least a grateful Muse may give:
1067The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing,
1068Prescribed her heights, and pruned her tender wing,
1069Her guide now lost no more attempts to rise,
1070But in low numbers short excursions tries:
1071Content, if hence the unlearn'd their wants may view,   
1072The learn'd reflect on what before they knew:
1073Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
1074Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
1075Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
1076Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
1077What dire offence from amorous causes springs,
1078What mighty contests rise from trivial things,
1079I singThis verse to Caryll, Muse! is due:
1080This, even Belinda may vouchsafe to view:
1081Slight is the subject, but not so the praise,
1082If she inspire, and he approve my lays.
1083Say what strange motive, Goddess! could compel
1084A well-bred lord t'assault a gentle belle?
1085Oh, say what stranger cause, yet unexplored,
1086Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?                 
1087In tasks so bold, can little men engage,
1088And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage?
1089Sol through white curtains shot a timorous ray,
1090And oped those eyes that must eclipse the day:
1091Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake,
1092And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake:
1093Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the ground,
1094And the press'd watch return'd a silver sound.
1095Belinda still her downy pillow press'd,
1096Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest:          
1097Twas he had summon'd to her silent bed
1098The morning-dream that hover'd o'er her head,
1099A youth more glittering than a birth-night beau,
1100That even in slumber caused her cheek to glow,
1101Seem'd to her ear his willing lips to lay,
1102And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to say:
1103Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd care
1104Of thousand bright inhabitants of air!
1105If e'er one vision touch thy infant thought,
1106Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught;         
1107Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen,
1108The silver token, and the circled green,
1109Or virgins visited by angel-powers,
1110With golden crowns and wreaths of heavenly flowers;
1111Hear and believe! thy own importance know,
1112Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
1113Some secret truths, from learned pride conceal'd,
1114To maids alone and children are reveal'd:
1115What though no credit doubting wits may give?
1116The fair and innocent shall still believe.               
1117Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly,
1118The light militia of the lower sky:
1119These, though unseen, are ever on the wing,
1120Hang o'er the box, and hover round the ring.
1121Think what an equipage thou hast in air,
1122And view with scorn two pages and a chair.
1123As now your own, our beings were of old,
1124And once enclosed in woman's beauteous mould;
1125Thence, by a soft transition, we repair
1126From earthly vehicles to these of air.                   
1127Think not, when woman's transient breath is fled,
1128That all her vanities at once are dead;
1129Succeeding vanities she still regards,
1130And though she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards.
1131Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive,
1132And love of ombre, after death survive.
1133For when the fair in all their pride expire,
1134To their first elements their souls retire:
1135The sprites of fiery termagants in flame
1136Mount up, and take a Salamander's name.                  
1137Soft yielding minds to water glide away,
1138And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental tea.
1139The graver prude sinks downward to a Gnome,
1140In search of mischief still on earth to roam.
1141The light coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair,
1142And sport and flutter in the fields of air.
1143Know further yet; whoever fair and chaste
1144Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph embraced:
1145For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
1146Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.           
1147What guards the purity of melting maids,
1148In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades,
1149Safe from the treacherous friend, the daring spark,
1150The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,
1151When kind occasion prompts their warm desires,
1152When music softens, and when dancing fires?
1153Tis but their Sylph, the wise celestials know,
1154Though honour is the word with men below.
1155Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their face,
1156For life predestined to the Gnomes' embrace.             
1157These swell their prospects, and exalt their pride,
1158When offers are disdain'd, and love denied;
1159Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain,
1160While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping train,
1161And garters, stars, and coronets appear,
1162And in soft sounds, Your Grace' salutes their ear.
1163Tis these that early taint the female soul,
1164Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll,
1165Teach infant cheeks a bidden blush to know,
1166And little hearts to flutter at a beau.                  
1167Oft, when the world imagine women stray,
1168The Sylphs through mystic mazes guide their way,
1169Through all the giddy circle they pursue,
1170And old impertinence expel by new.
1171What tender maid but must a victim fall
1172To one man's treat, but for another's ball?
1173When Florio speaks, what virgin could withstand,
1174If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand?
1175With varying vanities, from every part,
1176They shift the moving toyshop of their heart,           
1177Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots sword-knots strive,
1178Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive.
1179This erring mortals levity may call,
1180Oh, blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it all.
1181Of these am I, who thy protection claim,
1182A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name.
1183Late, as I ranged the crystal wilds of air,
1184In the clear mirror of thy ruling star
1185I saw, alas! some dread event impend,
1186Ere to the main this morning sun descend,               
1187But heaven reveals not what, or how, or where:
1188Warn'd by the Sylph, oh, pious maid, beware!
1189This to disclose is all thy guardian can:
1190Beware of all, but most beware of man!
1191He said; when Shock, who thought she slept too long,
1192Leap'd up, and waked his mistress with his tongue.
1193Twas then, Belinda, if report say true,
1194Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux;
1195Wounds, charms, and ardours, were no sooner read,
1196But all the vision vanish'd from thy head.              
1197And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display'd,
1198Each silver vase in mystic order laid.
1199First, robed in white, the nymph intent adores,
1200With head uncover'd, the cosmetic powers.
1201A heavenly image in the glass appears,
1202To that she bends, to that her eyes she rears;
1203The inferior priestess, at her altar's side,
1204Trembling, begins the sacred rites of pride.
1205Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here
1206The various offerings of the world appear;              
1207From each she nicely culls with curious toil,
1208And decks the goddess with the glittering spoil.
1209This casket India's glowing gems unlocks,
1210And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.
1211The tortoise here, and elephant unite,
1212Transform'd to combs, the speckled and the white.
1213Here files of pins extend their shining rows,
1214Puffs, powders, patches, Bibles, billet-doux.
1215Now awful beauty puts on all its arms;
1216The fair each moment rises in her charms,               
1217Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace,
1218And calls forth all the wonders of her face;
1219Sees by degrees a purer blush arise,
1220And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
1221The busy Sylphs surround their darling care,
1222These set the head, and those divide the hair,
1223Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the gown:
1224And Betty's praised for labours not her own.
1225Not with more glories, in the ethereal plain,
1226The sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
1227Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams
1228Launched on the bosom of the silver Thames.
1229Fair nymphs and well-dress'd youths around her shone,
1230But every eye was fix'd on her alone.
1231On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
1232Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
1233Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
1234Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those:              
1235Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
1236Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
1237Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,
1238And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
1239Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride
1240Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
1241If to her share some female errors fall,
1242Look on her face, and you'll forget em all.
1243This nymph, to the destruction of mankind,
1244Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung behind          
1245In equal curls, and well conspired to deck
1246With shining ringlets the smooth ivory neck.
1247Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains,
1248And mighty hearts are held in slender chains.
1249With hairy springes we the birds betray,
1250Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey,
1251Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,
1252And beauty draws us with a single hair.
1253The adventurous Baron the bright locks admired;
1254He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired.             
1255Resolved to win, he meditates the way,
1256By force to ravish, or by fraud betray;
1257For when success a lover's toil attends,
1258Few ask if fraud or force attain'd his ends.
1259For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored
1260Propitious Heaven, and every power adored,
1261But chiefly Loveto Love an altar built,
1262Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt.
1263There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves;
1264And all the trophies of his former loves;                
1265With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,
1266And breathes three amorous sighs to raise the fire.
1267Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes
1268Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize:
1269The powers gave ear, and granted half his prayer,
1270The rest, the winds dispersed in empty air.
1271But now secure the painted vessel glides,
1272The sunbeams trembling on the floating tides:
1273While melting music steals upon the sky,
1274And soften'd sounds along the waters die;                
1275Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play,
1276Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay.
1277All but the Sylphwith careful thoughts oppress'd,
1278The impending woe sat heavy on his breast.
1279He summons straight his denizens of air;
1280The lucid squadrons round the sails repair;
1281Soft o'er the shrouds arial whispers breathe,
1282That seem'd but zephyrs to the train beneath.
1283Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold,
1284Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of gold;           
1285Transparent forms, too fine for mortal sight,
1286Their fluid bodies half dissolved in light.
1287Loose to the wind their airy garments flew,
1288Thin glittering textures of the filmy dew,
1289Dipp'd in the richest tincture of the skies,
1290Where light disports in ever-mingling dyes;
1291While every beam new transient colours flings,
1292Colours that change whene'er they wave their wings.
1293Amid the circle, on the gilded mast,
1294Superior by the head, was Ariel placed;                  
1295His purple pinions opening to the sun,
1296He raised his azure wand, and thus begun:
1297Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear,
1298Fays, fairies, genii, elves, and demons hear!
1299Ye know the spheres, and various tasks assign'd
1300By laws eternal to the arial kind.
1301Some in the fields of purest ether play,
1302And bask and whiten in the blaze of day:
1303Some guide the course of wandering orbs on high,
1304Or roll the planets through the boundless sky:           
1305Some, less refined, beneath the moon's pale light
1306Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night,
1307Or suck the mists in grosser air below,
1308Or dip their pinions in the painted bow,
1309Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main,
1310Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain.
1311Others on earth o'er human race preside,
1312Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide:
1313Of these the chief the care of nations own,
1314And guard with arms divine the British throne.        
1315Our humbler province is to tend the fair,
1316Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;
1317To save the powder from too rude a gale,
1318Nor let the imprison'd essences exhale;
1319To draw fresh colours from the vernal flowers;
1320To steal from rainbows, ere they drop in showers,
1321A brighter wash; to curl their waving hairs,
1322Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs;
1323Nay, oft, in dreams, invention we bestow,
1324To change a flounce, or add a furbelow.                 
1325This day, black omens threat the brightest fair
1326That e'er deserved a watchful spirit's care;
1327Some dire disaster, or by force, or flight;
1328But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt in night.
1329Whether the nymph shall break Diana's law,
1330Or some frail China jar receive a flaw;
1331Or stain her honour, or her new brocade;
1332Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade;
1333Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball;
1334Or whether Heaven has doom'd that Shock must fall,      
1335Haste then, ye spirits! to your charge repair:
1336The fluttering fan be Zephyretta's care;
1337The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign;
1338And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine;
1339Do thou, Crispissa, tend her favourite lock;
1340Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock.
1341To fifty chosen Sylphs, of special note,
1342We trust the important charge, the petticoat:
1343Oft have we known that sevenfold fence to fail,
1344Though stiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs of whale;  
1345Form a strong line about the silver bound,
1346And guard the wide circumference around.
1347Whatever spirit, careless of his charge,
1348His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large,
1349Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins,
1350Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins;
1351Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie,
1352Or wedged whole ages in a bodkin's eye:
1353Gums and pomatums shall his flight restrain,
1354While, clogg'd, he beats his silken wings in vain;      
1355Or alum styptics with contracting power
1356Shrink his thin essence like a rivell'd flower:
1357Or, as Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel
1358The giddy motion of the whirling mill,
1359In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow,
1360And tremble at the sea that froths below!
1361He spoke; the spirits from the sails descend;
1362Some, orb in orb, around the nymph extend;
1363Some thread the mazy ringlets of her hair;
1364Some hang upon the pendants of her ear;                 
1365With beating hearts the dire event they wait,
1366Anxious, and trembling for the birth of Fate.
1367Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flowers,
1368Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers,
1369There stands a structure of majestic frame,
1370Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name.
1371Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom
1372Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home;
1373Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
1374Dost sometimes counsel takeand sometimes tea.
1375Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort,
1376To taste awhile the pleasures of a court;                
1377In various talk the instructive hours they pass'd,
1378Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last;
1379One speaks the glory of the British Queen,
1380And one describes a charming Indian screen;
1381A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
1382At every word a reputation dies.
1383Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of chat,
1384With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
1385Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day,
1386The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray;                
1387The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
1388And wretches hang that jurymen may dine;
1389The merchant from the Exchange returns in peace,
1390And the long labours of the toilet cease.
1391Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites,
1392Burns to encounter two adventurous knights,
1393At ombre singly to decide their doom,
1394And swells her breast with conquests yet to come.
1395Straight the three bands prepare in arras to join,
1396Each band the number of the sacred Nine.                 
1397Soon as she spreads her hand, the arial guard
1398Descend, and sit on each important card:
1399First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore,
1400Then each, according to the rank they bore;
1401For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race,
1402Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
1403Behold, four Kings in majesty revered,
1404With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
1405And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain a flower,
1406Th' expressive emblem of their softer power;             
1407Four Knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band,
1408Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand;
1409And particolour'd troops, a shining train,
1410Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.
1411The skilful nymph reviews her force with care:
1412Let Spades be Trumps!' she said, and Trumps they were.
1413Now move to war her sable Matadores,
1414In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors.
1415Spadillio first, unconquerable lord!
1416Led off two captive Trumps, and swept the board.         
1417As many more Manillio forced to yield,
1418And march'd a victor from the verdant field.
1419Him Basto follow'd, but his fate more hard
1420Gain'd but one Trump and one plebeian card.
1421With his broad sabre next, a chief in years,
1422The hoary Majesty of Spades appears,
1423Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd,
1424The rest, his many-colour'd robe conceal'd.
1425The rebel Knave, who dares his prince engage,
1426Proves the just victim of his royal rage.                
1427Even mighty Pam, that Kings and Queens o'erthrew
1428And mow'd down armies in the fights of Loo,
1429Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
1430Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade!
1431Thus far both armies to Belinda yield;
1432Now to the Baron fate inclines the field.
1433His warlike Amazon her host invades,
1434The imperial consort of the crown of Spades.
1435The Club's black tyrant first her victim died,
1436Spite of his haughty mien, and barbarous pride:          
1437What boots the regal circle on his head,
1438His giant limbs in state unwieldy spread;
1439That long behind he trails his pompous robe,
1440And, of all monarchs, only grasps the globe?
1441The Baron now his Diamonds pours apace;
1442The embroider'd King who shows but half his face,
1443And his refulgent Queen, with powers combined,
1444Of broken troops an easy conquest find.
1445Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder seen,
1446With throngs promiscuous strew the level green.          
1447Thus when dispersed a routed army runs,
1448Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons,
1449With like confusion different nations fly,
1450Of various habit and of various dye;
1451The pierced battalions disunited fall
1452In heaps on heaps; one fate o'erwhelms them all.
1453The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily arts,
1454And wins oh shameful chance! the Queen of Hearts.
1455At this, the blood the virgin's cheek forsook,
1456A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look;              
1457She sees, and trembles at the approaching ill,
1458Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille.
1459And now, as oft in some distemper'd state
1460On one nice trick depends the general fate,
1461An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King unseen
1462Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his captive Queen:
1463He springs to vengeance with an eager pace,
1464And falls like thunder on the prostrate Ace.
1465The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the sky;
1466The walls, the woods, and long canals reply.            
1467O thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
1468Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.
1469Sudden these honours shall be snatch'd away,
1470And cursed for ever this victorious day.
1471For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crown'd,
1472The berries crackle, and the mill turns round;
1473On shining altars of Japan they raise
1474The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze:
1475From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
1476While China's earth receives the smoking tide:          
1477At once they gratify their scent and taste,
1478And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
1479Straight hover round the fair her airy band;
1480Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor fann'd,
1481Some o'er her lap their careful plumes display'd,
1482Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.
1483Coffee which makes the politician wise,
1484And see through all things with his half-shut eyes
1485Sent up in vapours to the Baron's brain
1486New stratagems, the radiant lock to gain.               
1487Ah, cease, rash youth! desist ere tis too late,
1488Fear the just gods, and think of Scylla's fate!
1489Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air,
1490She dearly pays for Nisus' injured hair!
1491But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
1492How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
1493Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting grace
1494A two-edged weapon from her shining case:
1495So ladies in romance assist their knight,
1496Present the spear, and arm him for the fight,           
1497He takes the gift with reverence, and extends
1498The little engine on his fingers' ends:
1499This just behind Belinda's neck he spread,
1500As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her head.
1501Swift to the lock a thousand sprites repair,
1502A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the hair;
1503And thrice they twitch'd the diamond in her ear;
1504Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe drew near.
1505Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
1506The close recesses of the virgin's thought;             
1507As on the nosegay in her breast reclined,
1508He watch'd the ideas rising in her mind,
1509Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art,
1510An earthly lover lurking at her heart.
1511Amazed, confused, he found his power expired,
1512Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retired.
1513The Peer now spreads the glittering forfex wide,
1514To inclose the lock; now joins it to divide.
1515Even then, before the fatal engine closed,
1516A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed;                 
1517Fate urged the shears, and cut the Sylph in twain,
1518But airy substance soon unites again
1519The meeting points the sacred hair dissever
1520From the fair head, for ever, and for ever!
1521Then flash'd the living lightning from her eyes,
1522And screams of horror rend the affrighted skies.
1523Not louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast,
1524When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe their last;
1525Or when rich China vessels, fallen from high,
1526In glittering dust and painted fragments lie!           
1527Let wreaths of triumph now my temples twine,
1528The victor cried the glorious prize is mine!
1529While fish in streams, or birds delight in air,
1530Or in a coach-and-six the British fair,
1531As long as Atalantis shall be read,
1532Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed,
1533While visits shall be paid on solemn days,
1534When numerous wax-lights in bright order blaze,
1535While nymphs take treats, or assignations give,
1536So long my honour, name, and praise shall live!'        
1537What Time would spare, from steel receives its date,
1538And monuments, like men, submit to fate!
1539Steel could the labour of the gods destroy,
1540And strike to dust the imperial towers of Troy;
1541Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
1542And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
1543What wonder then, fair nymph! thy hairs should feel,
1544The conquering force of unresisted steel?
1545But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress'd,
1546And secret passions labour'd in her breast.
1547Not youthful kings in battle seized alive,
1548Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
1549Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss,
1550Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss,
1551Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
1552Not Cynthia when her manteau's pinn'd awry,
1553E'er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
1554As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish'd hair.              
1555For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,
1556And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew,
1557Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite,
1558As ever sullied the fair face of light,
1559Down to the central earth, his proper scene,
1560Repair'd, to search the gloomy cave of Spleen.
1561Swift on his sooty pinions flits the Gnome,
1562And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome.
1563No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows,
1564The dreaded east is all the wind that blows;             
1565Here in a grotto, shelter'd close from air,
1566And screened in shades from day's detested glare,
1567She sighs for ever on her pensive bed,
1568Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.
1569Two handmaids wait the throne: alike in place,
1570But differing far in figure and in face.
1571Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient maid,
1572Her wrinkled form in black and white array'd;
1573With store of prayers for mornings, nights, and noons
1574Her hand is fill'd; her bosom with lampoons.             
1575There Affectation, with a sickly mien,
1576Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen;
1577Practised to lisp, and hang the head aside,
1578Faints into airs, and languishes with pride;
1579On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe,
1580Wrapp'd in a gown, for sickness, and for show.
1581The fair ones feel such maladies as these,
1582When each new night-dress gives a new disease.
1583A constant vapour o'er the palace flies,
1584Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise;              
1585Dreadful, as hermits' dreams in haunted shades,
1586Or bright, as visions of expiring maids.
1587Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling spires,
1588Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple fires:
1589Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes,
1590And crystal domes, and angels in machines.
1591Unnumber'd throngs on every side are seen
1592Of bodies changed to various forms by Spleen.
1593Here living teapots stand, one arm held out,
1594One bent; the handle this, and that the spout:           
1595A pipkin there, like Homer's tripod walks;
1596Here sighs a jar, and there a goose-pie talks;
1597Men prove with child, as powerful fancy works,
1598And maids turn'd bottles, call aloud for corks.
1599Safe pass'd the Gnome through this fantastic band,
1600A branch of healing spleenwort in his hand.
1601Then thus address'd the power'Hail, wayward Queen!
1602Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen:
1603Parent of vapours and of female wit,
1604Who give the hysteric, or poetic fit,                    
1605On various tempers act by various ways,
1606Make some take physic, others scribble plays;
1607Who cause the proud their visits to delay,
1608And send the godly in a pet to pray;
1609A nymph there is, that all thy power disdains,
1610And thousands more in equal mirth maintains.
1611But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a grace,
1612Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face,
1613Like citron-waters matrons' cheeks inflame,
1614Or change complexions at a losing game;                  
1615If e'er with airy horns I planted heads,
1616Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds,
1617Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude,
1618Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude,
1619Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease,
1620Which not the tears of brightest eyes could ease:
1621Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin,
1622That single act gives half the world the spleen.
1623The goddess with a discontented air
1624Seems to reject him, though she grants his prayer.       
1625A wondrous bag with both her hands she binds,
1626Like that where once Ulysses held the winds;
1627There she collects the force of female lungs,
1628Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of tongues.
1629A vial next she fills with fainting fears,
1630Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing tears.
1631The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away,
1632Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts to day.
1633Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he found,
1634Her eyes dejected and her hair unbound.                  
1635Full o'er their heads the swelling bag he rent,
1636And all the furies issued at the vent.
1637Belinda burns with more than mortal ire,
1638And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire.
1639O wretched maid!' she spread her hands, and cried,
1640While Hampton's echoes wretched maid!' replied
1641Was it for this you took such constant care
1642The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare?
1643For this your locks in paper durance bound,
1644For this with torturing irons wreath'd around?          
1645For this with fillets strain'd your tender head,
1646And bravely bore the double loads of lead?
1647Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair,
1648While the fops envy, and the ladies stare?
1649Honour forbid! at whose unrivall'd shrine
1650Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign.
1651Methinks already I your tears survey,
1652Already hear the horrid things they say,
1653Already see you a degraded toast,
1654And all your honour in a whisper lost!                  
1655How shall I, then, your helpless fame defend?
1656Twill then be infamy to seem your friend!
1657And shall this prize, the inestimable prize,
1658Exposed through crystal to the gazing eyes,
1659And heighten'd by the diamond's circling rays,
1660On that rapacious hand for ever blaze?
1661Sooner shall grass in Hyde-park Circus grow,
1662And wits take lodgings in the sound of Bow;
1663Sooner let earth, air, sea to chaos fall,
1664Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish all!'            
1665She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
1666And bids her beau demand the precious hairs:
1667Sir Plume of amber snuff-box justly vain,
1668And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
1669With earnest eyes, and round, unthinking face,
1670He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case,
1671And thus broke out'My Lord, why, what the devil?
1672Zds! damn the lock! fore Gad, you must be civil!
1673Plague on't! tis past a jestnay, prithee, pox!
1674Give her the hair'he spoke, and rapp'd his box.       
1675It grieves me much' replied the Peer again
1676Who speaks so well should ever speak in vain;
1677But by this lock, this sacred lock I swear,
1678Which never more shall join its parted hair;
1679Which never more its honours shall renew,
1680Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew
1681That while my nostrils draw the vital air,
1682This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
1683He spoke, and, speaking, in proud triumph spread
1684The long-contended honours of her head.                  
1685But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not so;
1686He breaks the vial whence the sorrows flow.
1687Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief appears,
1688Her eyes half-languishing, half-drown'd in tears;
1689On her heaved bosom hung her drooping head,
1690Which, with a sigh, she raised; and thus she said:
1691For ever cursed be this detested day,
1692Which snatch'd my best, my favourite curl away!
1693Happy! ah, ten times happy had I been,
1694If Hampton Court these eyes had never seen!             
1695Yet am not I the first mistaken maid,
1696By love of courts to numerous ills betray'd.
1697Oh, had I rather unadmired remain'd
1698In some lone isle, or distant northern land;
1699Where the gilt chariot never marks the way,
1700Where none learn ombre, none e'er taste bohea!
1701There kept my charms conceal'd from mortal eye,
1702Like roses that in deserts bloom and die.
1703What moved my mind with youthful lords to roam?
1704Oh, had I stay'd, and said my prayers at home!          
1705Twas this the morning omens seem'd to tell:
1706Thrice from my trembling hand the patch-box fell;
1707The tottering china shook without a wind,
1708Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most unkind!
1709A Sylph too warn'd me of the threats of Fate,
1710In mystic visions, now believed too late.
1711See the poor remnants of these slighted hairs!
1712My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine spares:
1713These in two sable ringlets taught to break,
1714Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck;               
1715The sister-lock now sits uncouth, alone,
1716And in its fellow's fate foresees its own;
1717Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal shears demands,
1718And tempts, once more, thy sacrilegious hands.
1719Oh hadst thou, cruel! been content to seize
1720Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these!
1721She said: the pitying audience melt in tears;
1722But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's ears.
1723In vain Thalestris with reproach assails,
1724For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
1725Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain,
1726While Anna begg'd and Dido raged in vain.
1727Then grave Clarissa graceful waved her fan;
1728Silence ensued, and thus the nymph began:
1729Say, why are beauties praised and honour'd most,
1730The wise man's passion, and the vain man's toast?        
1731Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford?
1732Why angels call'd, and angel-like adored?
1733Why round our coaches crowd the white-gloved beaux?
1734Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows?
1735How vain are all these glories, all our pains,
1736Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains:
1737That men may say, when we the front-box grace,
1738Behold the first in virtue as in face!
1739Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day,
1740Charm'd the small-pox, or chased old-age away;           
1741Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce,
1742Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
1743To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint,
1744Nor could it, sure, be such a sin to paint.
1745But since, alas! frail beauty must decay,
1746Curl'd or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to gray;
1747Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
1748And she who scorns a man, must die a maid;
1749What then remains, but well our power to use,
1750And keep good-humour still, whate'er we lose?            
1751And trust me, dear! good-humour can prevail,
1752When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
1753Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
1754Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
1755So spoke the dame, but no applause ensued;
1756Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her prude.
1757To arms, to arms!' the fierce virago cries,
1758And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
1759All side in parties, and begin the attack;
1760Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack;     
1761Heroes' and heroines' shouts confusedly rise,
1762And bass and treble voices strike the skies.
1763No common weapons in their hands are found,
1764Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
1765So when bold Homer makes the gods engage,
1766And heavenly breasts with human passions rage;
1767Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms,
1768And all Olympus rings with loud alarms:
1769Jove's thunder roars, heaven trembles all around,
1770Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound:        
1771Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives way,
1772And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!
1773Triumphant Umbriel on a sconce's height
1774Clapp'd his glad wings, and sat to view the fight;
1775Propp'd on their bodkin spears, the sprites survey
1776The growing combat, or assist the fray.
1777While through the press enraged Thalestris flies,
1778And scatters death around from both her eyes,
1779A beau and witling perish'd in the throng,
1780One died in metaphor, and one in song.                   
1781O cruel nymph! a living death I bear,
1782Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair.
1783A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast,
1784Those eyes are made so killing!'was his last.
1785Thus on Maeander's flowery margin lies
1786The expiring swan, and as he sings he dies.
1787When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,
1788Chloe stepped in, and kill'd him with a frown;
1789She smiled to see the doughty hero slain,
1790But, at her smile, the beau revived again.               
1791Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air,
1792Weighs the men's wits against the lady's hair;
1793The doubtful beam long nods from side to side;
1794At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside.
1795See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
1796With more than usual lightning in her eyes:
1797Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try,
1798Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
1799But this bold lord, with manly strength endued,
1800She with one finger and a thumb subdued:                 
1801Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
1802A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw;
1803The Gnomes direct, to every atom just,
1804The pungent grains of titillating dust.
1805Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows,
1806And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
1807Now meet thy fate!' incensed Belinda cried,
1808And drew a deadly bodkin from her side,
1809The same, his ancient personage to deck,
1810Her great-great-grandsire wore about his neck,           
1811In three seal-rings; which after, melted down,
1812Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown:
1813Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
1814The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew;
1815Then in a bodkin graced her mother's hairs,
1816Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.
1817Boast not my fall,' he cried insulting foe!
1818Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.
1819Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind:                
1820All that I dread is leaving you behind!
1821Rather than so, ah! let me still survive,
1822And burn in Cupid's flames,but burn alive.
1823Restore the lock!' she cries; and all around
1824Restore the lock!' the vaulted roofs rebound.
1825Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain
1826Roar'd for the handkerchief that caused his pain.
1827But see how oft ambitious aims are cross'd,
1828And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost!
1829The lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with pain,
1830In every place is sought, but sought in vain:           
1831With such a prize no mortal must be blest,
1832So Heaven decrees! with Heaven who can contest?
1833Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere,
1834Since all things lost on earth are treasured there.
1835There heroes' wits are kept in ponderous vases,
1836And beaux' in snuff-boxes and tweezer-cases.
1837There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found,
1838And lovers' hearts with ends of ribbon bound,
1839The courtier's promises, and sick man's prayers,
1840The smiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs,          
1841Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea,
1842Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.
1843But trust the Museshe saw it upward rise,
1844Though mark'd by none but quick, poetic eyes:
1845So Rome's great founder to the heavens withdrew,
1846To Proculus alone confess'd in view
1847A sudden star, it shot through liquid air,
1848And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
1849Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright,
1850The heaven's bespangling with dishevell'd light.        
1851The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
1852And, pleased, pursue its progress through the skies.
1853This the beau-monde shall from the Mall survey,
1854And hail with music its propitious ray.
1855This the bless'd lover shall for Venus take,
1856And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake.
1857This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies,
1858When next he looks through Galileo's eyes;
1859And hence th' egregious wizard shall foredoom
1860The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.                
1861Then cease, bright nymph! to mourn thy ravish'd hair,
1862Which adds new glory to the shining sphere!
1863Not all the tresses that fair head can boast,
1864Shall draw such envy as the lock you lost.
1865For, after all the murders of your eye,
1866When, after millions slain, yourself shall die;
1867When those fair suns shall set, as set they must,
1868And all those tresses shall be laid in dust,
1869This lock the Muse shall consecrate to fame,
1870And midst the stars inscribe Belinda's name.
1871Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
1872At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,
1873Invite my lays. Be present, sylvan Maids!
1874Unlock your springs, and open all your shades.
1875Granville commands; your aid, O Muses, bring!
1876What Muse for Granville can refuse to sing?
1877The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long,
1878Live in description, and look green in song:
1879These, were my breast inspired with equal flame,
1880Like them in beauty, should be like in fame.             
1881Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
1882Here earth and water seem to strive again;
1883Not chaos-like, together crush'd and bruised,
1884But, as the world, harmoniously confused;
1885Where order in variety we see,
1886And where, though all things differ, all agree.
1887Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display,
1888And part admit, and part exclude the day;
1889As some coy nymph her lover's warm address
1890Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.               
1891There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades,
1892Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades.
1893Here in full light the russet plains extend:
1894There, wrapt in clouds the bluish hills ascend.
1895Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
1896And midst the desert fruitful fields arise,
1897That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,
1898Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.
1899Let India boast her plants, nor envy we
1900The weeping amber or the balmy tree,                     
1901While by our oaks the precious loads are born,
1902And realms commanded which those trees adorn.
1903Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight,
1904Though gods assembled grace his towering height.
1905Than what more humble mountains offer here,
1906Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear.
1907See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd,
1908Here blushing Flora paints the enamell'd ground,
1909Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
1910And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand;              
1911Rich industry sits smiling on the plains,
1912And peace and plenty tell a Stuart reigns.
1913Not thus the land appear'd in ages past,
1914A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste,
1915To savage beasts and savage laws a prey,
1916And kings more furious and severe than they;
1917Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods,
1918The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods:
1919Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves,
1920For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.           
1921What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd,
1922And even the elements a tyrant sway'd?
1923In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming grain,
1924Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warm in vain;
1925The swain with tears his frustrate labour yields,
1926And famish'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields.
1927What wonder, then, a beast or subject slain
1928Were equal crimes in a despotic reign?
1929Both doom'd alike, for sportive tyrants bled,
1930But while the subject starved, the beast was fed.        
1931Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began,
1932A mighty hunter, and his prey was man:
1933Our haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name,
1934And makes his trembling slaves the royal game.
1935The fields are ravish'd from the industrious swains,
1936From men their cities, and from gods their fanes:
1937The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
1938The hollow winds through naked temples roar;
1939Round broken columns clasping ivy twined;
1940O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind;             
1941The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires,
1942And savage howlings fill the sacred choirs.
1943Awed by his Nobles, by his Commons cursed,
1944The oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst,
1945Stretch'd o'er the poor and Church his iron rod,
1946And served alike his vassals and his God.
1947Whom even the Saxon spared, and bloody Dane,
1948The wanton victims of his sport remain.
1949But see, the man who spacious regions gave
1950A waste for beasts, himself denied a grave!           
1951Stretch'd on the lawn, his second hope survey,
1952At once the chaser, and at once the prey:
1953Lo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,
1954Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart.
1955Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects' cries,
1956Nor saw displeased the peaceful cottage rise.
1957Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed,
1958O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread,
1959The forests wonder'd at the unusual grain,
1960And secret transport touch'd the conscious swain.        
1961Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears
1962Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years.
1963Ye vigorous swains! while youth ferments your blood,
1964And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood,
1965Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset,
1966Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net.
1967When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds,
1968And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds,
1969Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
1970Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds;       
1971But when the tainted gales the game betray,
1972Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey:
1973Secure they trust the unfaithful field beset,
1974Till hovering o'er em sweeps the swelling net.
1975Thus if small things we may with great compare
1976When Albion sends her eager sons to war,
1977Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty blest,
1978Near, and more near, the closing lines invest;
1979Sudden they seize the amazed, defenceless prize,
1980And high in air Britannia's standard flies.             
1981See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
1982And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
1983Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
1984Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
1985Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes,
1986His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes,
1987The vivid green his shining plumes unfold,
1988His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
1989Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky,
1990The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny.         
1991To plains with well-breath'd beagles we repair,
1992And trace the mazes of the circling hare;
1993Beasts, urged by us, their fellow-beasts pursue,
1994And learn of man each other to undo.
1995With slaughtering gun the unwearied fowler roves,
1996When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves;
1997Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade,
1998And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade.
1999He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye;
2000Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky;         
2001Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath,
2002The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death:
2003Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare,
2004They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
2005In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade,
2006Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead,
2007The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
2008Intent, his angle trembling in his hand:
2009With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed,
2010And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed.            
2011Our plenteous streams a various race supply,
2012The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye,
2013The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd,
2014The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold,
2015Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains,
2016And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains.
2017Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car:
2018The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,
2019Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround,
2020Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound.      
2021The impatient courser pants in every vein,
2022And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain:
2023Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd,
2024And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
2025See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep,
2026Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,
2027Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed,
2028And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
2029Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
2030The immortal huntress, and her virgin-train;            
2031Nor envy, Windsor! since thy shades have seen
2032As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen,
2033Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign,
2034The earth's fair light, and empress of the main.
2035Here too, tis sung, of old Diana stray'd,
2036And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade;
2037Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove,
2038Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove;
2039Here, arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn,
2040Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy lawn.              
2041Above the rest a rural nymph was famed,
2042Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona named;
2043Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
2044The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last.
2045Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known,
2046But by the crescent and the golden zone.
2047She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care;
2048A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair;
2049A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,
2050And with her dart the flying deer she wounds.
2051It chanced, as eager of the chase, the maid
2052Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd,             
2053Pan saw and loved, and, burning with desire,
2054Pursued her flight, her flight increased his fire.
2055Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
2056When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
2057Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
2058When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves;
2059As from the god she flew with furious pace,
2060Or as the god, more furious, urged the chase.
2061Now fainting, sinking, pale the nymph appears;
2062Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears;         
2063And now his shadow reach'd her as she run,
2064His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun;
2065And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
2066Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
2067In vain on father Thames she calls for aid,
2068Nor could Diana help her injured maid.
2069Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain:
2070Ah, Cynthia! ahthough banish'd from thy train,
2071Let me, oh! let me, to the shades repair,
2072My native shadesthere weep, and murmur there.'        
2073She said, and melting as in tears she lay,
2074In a soft, silver stream dissolved away.
2075The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,
2076For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
2077Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore,
2078And bathes the forest where she ranged before.
2079In her chaste current oft the goddess laves,
2080And with celestial tears augments the waves.
2081Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies
2082The headlong mountains and the downward skies,          
2083The watery landscape of the pendent woods,
2084And absent trees that tremble in the floods;
2085In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,
2086And floating forests paint the waves with green,
2087Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams,
2088Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.
2089Thou, too, great Father of the British floods!
2090With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods;
2091Where towering oaks their growing honours rear,
2092And future navies on thy shores appear.                 
2093Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives
2094A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives.
2095No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,
2096No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear.
2097Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays,
2098While led along the skies his current strays,
2099As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes,
2100To grace the mansion of our earthly gods:
2101Nor all his stars above a lustre show,
2102Like the bright beauties on thy banks below;            
2103Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,
2104Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.
2105Happy the man whom this bright court approves,
2106His sovereign favours, and his country loves:
2107Happy next him who to these shades retires,
2108Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires:
2109Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet please,
2110Successive study, exercise, and ease.
2111He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
2112And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields:         
2113With chemic art exalts the mineral powers,
2114And draws the aromatic souls of flowers:
2115Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high;
2116O'er figured worlds now travels with his eye;
2117Of ancient writ unlocks the learnd store,
2118Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er:
2119Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood,
2120Attends the duties of the wise and good,
2121To observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
2122To follow nature, and regard his end;                   
2123Or looks on Heaven with more than mortal eyes,
2124Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies,
2125Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
2126Survey the region, and confess her home!
2127Such was the life great Scipio once admired,
2128Thus Atticus, and Trumbull thus retired.
2129Ye sacred Nine! that all my soul possess,
2130Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,
2131Bear me, oh, bear me to sequester'd scenes,
2132The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens:               
2133To Thames's banks which fragrant breezes fill,
2134Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's Hill.
2135On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow,
2136While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow.
2137I seem through consecrated walks to rove,
2138I hear soft music die along the grove:
2139Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade,
2140By godlike poets venerable made:
2141Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;
2142There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue. 
2143Oh early lost! what tears the river shed,
2144When the sad pomp along his banks was led!
2145His drooping swans on every note expire,
2146And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre.
2147Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice,
2148No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice;
2149Who now shall charm the shades, where Cowley strung
2150His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?
2151But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest rings!
2152Are these revived? or is it Granville sings?            
2153Tis yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats,
2154And call the Muses to their ancient seats;
2155To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,
2156To crown the forest with immortal greens,
2157Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise,
2158And lift her turrets nearer to the skies;
2159To sing those honours you deserve to wear,
2160And add new lustre to her silver star.
2161Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage,
2162Surrey, the Granville of a former age:                  
2163Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance,
2164Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance:
2165In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre,
2166To the same notes, of love and soft desire:
2167Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,
2168Then fill'd the groves, as heavenly Mira now.
2169Oh, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore,
2170What kings first breathed upon her winding shore,
2171Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains
2172In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth contains!          
2173With Edward's acts adorn the shining page,
2174Stretch his long triumphs down through every age,
2175Draw monarchs chain'd, and Cressy's glorious field,
2176The lilies blazing on the regal shield:
2177Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours fall,
2178And leave inanimate the naked wall,
2179Still in thy song should vanquish'd France appear,
2180And bleed for ever under Britain's spear.
2181Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,
2182And palms eternal flourish round his urn.               
2183Here o'er the martyr-king the marble weeps,
2184And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward sleeps.
2185Whom not the extended Albion could contain,
2186From old Belerium to the northern main,
2187The grave unites; where ev'n the great find rest,
2188And blended lie the oppressor and the oppress'd!
2189Make sacred Charles' tomb for ever known,
2190Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone
2191Oh fact accursed! what tears has Albion shed,
2192Heavens, what new wounds! and how her old have bled!    
2193She saw her sons with purple deaths expire,
2194Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire,
2195A dreadful series of intestine wars,
2196Inglorious triumphs and dishonest scars.
2197At length great Anna said'Let discord cease!
2198She said, the world obey'd, and all was peace!
2199In that blest moment, from his oozy bed
2200Old Father Thames advanced his reverend head;
2201His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the stream
2202His shining horns diffused a golden gleam:              
2203Graved on his urn appear'd the moon, that guides
2204His swelling waters, and alternate tides;
2205The figured streams in waves of silver roll'd,
2206And on their banks Augusta rose in gold.
2207Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood,
2208Who swell with tributary urns his flood;
2209First the famed authors of his ancient name,
2210The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame:
2211The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd;
2212The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd;           
2213Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave;
2214And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave;
2215The blue, transparent Vandalis appears;
2216The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears;
2217And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood;
2218And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish blood.
2219High in the midst, upon his urn reclined,
2220His sea-green mantle waving with the wind
2221The god appear'd: he turn'd his azure eyes
2222Where Windsor-domes and pompous turrets rise;           
2223Then bow'd and spoke; the winds forget to roar,
2224And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore.
2225Hail, sacred Peace! hail, long-expected days,
2226That Thames's glory to the stars shall raise!
2227Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold,
2228Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,
2229From heaven itself though sevenfold Nilus flows,
2230And harvests on a hundred realms bestows;
2231These now no more shall be the Muse's themes,
2232Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.           
2233Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine,
2234And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine,
2235Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train;
2236Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.
2237No more my sons shall dye with British blood
2238Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood:
2239Safe on my shore each unmolested swain
2240Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain;
2241The shady empire shall retain no trace
2242Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase;               
2243The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown,
2244And arms employ'd on birds and beasts alone.
2245Behold! the ascending villas on my side,
2246Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide,
2247Behold! Augusta's glittering spires increase,
2248And temples rise, the beauteous works of Peace.
2249I see, I see, where two fair cities bend
2250Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend!
2251There mighty nations shall inquire their doom,
2252The world's great oracle in times to come;              
2253There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen
2254Once more to bend before a British queen.
2255Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods,
2256And half thy forests rush into the floods,
2257Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display,
2258To the bright regions of the rising day;
2259Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,
2260Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole;
2261Or under southern skies exalt their sails,
2262Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales!             
2263For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow,
2264The coral redden, and the ruby glow,
2265The pearly shell its lucid globe infold,
2266And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.
2267The time shall come when, free as seas or wind,
2268Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind,
2269Whole nations enter with each swelling tide,
2270And seas but join the regions they divide;
2271Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold,
2272And the new world launch forth to seek the old.         
2273Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
2274And feather'd people crowd my wealthy side,
2275And naked youths and painted chiefs admire
2276Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!
2277O stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore to shore,
2278Till conquest cease, and slavery be no more;
2279Till the freed Indians in their native groves
2280Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves,
2281Peru once more a race of kings behold,
2282And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.                  
2283Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell,
2284In brazen bonds, shall barbarous Discord dwell;
2285Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,
2286And mad Ambition shall attend her there:
2287There purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires,
2288Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires:
2289There hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel,
2290And Persecution mourn her broken wheel:
2291There Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain,
2292And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.            
2293Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd lays
2294Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
2295The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
2296And bring the scenes of opening fate to light.
2297My humble Muse, in unambitious strains,
2298Paints the green forests and the flowery plains,
2299Where Peace descending bids her olives spring,
2300And scatters blessings from her dove-like wing.
2301Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
2302Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise;          
2303Enough for me, that to the listening swains
2304First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.
2305By Music, minds an equal temper know,
2306Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
2307If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
2308Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;
2309Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
2310Exalts her in enlivening airs.
2311Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
2312Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;
2313Intestine war no more our passions wage,
2314And giddy factions hear away their rage.
2315O heaven-born sisters! source of art!
2316Who charm the sense, or mend the heart;
2317Who lead fair Virtue's train along,
2318Moral truth, and mystic song!
2319To what new clime, what distant sky,
2320Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly?
2321Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore,
2322Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?
2323Begone, ye critics, and restrain your spite,
2324Codrus writes on, and will for ever write.
2325The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has gone,
2326As clocks run fastest when most lead is on;
2327What though no bees around your cradle flew,
2328Nor on your lips distill'd the golden dew,
2329Yet have we oft discover'd in their stead
2330A swarm of drones that buzz'd about your head.
2331When you, like Orpheus, strike the warbling lyre,
2332Attentive blocks stand round you and admire.
2333Wit pass'd through thee no longer is the same,
2334As meat digested takes a different name,
2335But sense must sure thy safest plunder be,
2336Since no reprisals can be made on thee.
2337Thus thou may'st rise, and in thy daring flight
2338Though ne'er so weighty reach a wondrous height.
2339So, forced from engines, lead itself can fly,
2340And ponderous slugs move nimbly through the sky.
2341Sure Bavius copied Maevius to the full,
2342And Chaerilus taught Codrus to be dull;
2343Therefore, dear friend, at my advice give o'er
2344This needless labour; and contend no more
2345To prove a dull succession to be true,
2346Since tis enough we find it so in you.
2347What beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade
2348Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
2349Tis she!but why that bleeding bosom gored,
2350Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?
2351Oh, ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,
2352Is it, in heaven, a crime to love too well?
2353To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
2354To act a lover's or a Roman's part?
2355Is there no bright reversion in the sky,
2356For those who greatly think, or bravely die?             
2357Why bade ye else, ye Powers! her soul aspire
2358Above the vulgar flight of low desire?
2359Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes;
2360The glorious fault of angels and of gods:
2361Thence to their images on earth it flows,
2362And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.
2363Most souls, tis true, but peep out once an age,
2364Dull, sullen prisoners in the body's cage:
2365Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years
2366Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres;                 
2367Like Eastern kings a lazy state they keep,
2368And, close confined to their own palace, sleep.
2369From these perhaps ere Nature bade her die
2370Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky.
2371As into air the purer spirits flow,
2372And separate from their kindred dregs below;
2373So flew the soul to its congenial place,
2374Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.
2375But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,
2376Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood!              
2377See on these ruby lips the trembling breath,
2378These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death;
2379Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before,
2380And those love-darting eyes must roll no more.
2381Thus, if Eternal Justice rules the ball,
2382Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall:
2383On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,
2384And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates.
2385There passengers shall stand, and pointing say,
2386While the long funerals blacken all the way            
2387Lo, these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd,
2388And cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield.
2389Thus unlamented pass the proud away,
2390The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!
2391So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow
2392For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
2393What can atone O ever-injured Shade!
2394Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid?
2395No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear
2396Pleased thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier,     
2397By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,
2398By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,
2399By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd,
2400By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd!
2401What, though no friends in sable weeds appear,
2402Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,
2403And bear about the mockery of woe
2404To midnight dances, and the public show?
2405What, though no weeping loves thy ashes grace,
2406Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face?                    
2407What, though no sacred earth allow thee room,
2408Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb?
2409Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd,
2410And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:
2411There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,
2412There the first roses of the year shall blow;
2413While angels with their silver wings o'ershade
2414The ground, now sacred by thy relics made.
2415So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,
2416What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.          
2417How loved, how honour'd once, avails thee not,
2418To whom related, or by whom begot;
2419A heap of dust alone remains of thee,
2420Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
2421Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,
2422Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
2423Even he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,
2424Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays;
2425Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,
2426And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart;        
2427Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
2428The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more!
2429To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
2430To raise the genius, and to mend the heart;
2431To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold,
2432Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold:
2433For this the tragic Muse first trod the stage,
2434Commanding tears to stream through every age;
2435Tyrants no more their savage nature kept,
2436And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
2437Our author shuns by vulgar springs to move
2438The hero's glory, or the virgin's love;                  
2439In pitying love, we but our weakness show,
2440And wild ambition well deserves its woe.
2441Here tears shall flow from a more generous cause,
2442Such tears as patriots shed for dying laws:
2443He bids your breasts with ancient ardour rise,
2444And calls forth Roman drops from British eyes.
2445Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws,
2446What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was:
2447No common object to your sight displays,
2448But what with pleasure Heaven itself surveys,         
2449A brave man struggling in the storms of fate,
2450And greatly falling with a falling state.
2451While Cato gives his little senate laws,
2452What bosom beats not in his country's cause?
2453Who sees him act, but envies every deed?
2454Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
2455Even when proud Caesar, midst triumphal cars,
2456The spoils of nations, and the pomp of wars,
2457Ignobly vain and impotently great,
2458Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in state;            
2459As her dead father's reverend image pass'd,
2460The pomp was darken'd and the day o'ercast;
2461The triumph ceased, tears gush'd from every eye;
2462The world's great victor pass'd unheeded by;
2463Her last good man dejected Rome adored,
2464And honour'd Caesar's less than Cato's sword.
2465Britons, attend: be worth like this approved,
2466And show you have the virtue to be moved.
2467With honest scorn the first famed Cato view'd
2468Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she subdued;        
2469Your scene precariously subsists too long
2470On French translation, and Italian song.
2471Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage,
2472Be justly warm'd with your own native rage;
2473Such plays alone should win a British ear,
2474As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.
2475Fair charmer, cease! nor make your voice's prize,
2476A heart resign'd, the conquest of your eyes:
2477Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail,
2478Which winds and lightning both at once assail.
2479We were too blest with these enchanting lays,
2480Which must be heavenly when an angel plays:
2481But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
2482Lest heavenly music should be heard alive.
2483Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree,
2484Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he:
2485A poet made the silent wood pursue,
2486This vocal wood had drawn the poet too.
2487Fain would my Muse the flowery treasures sing,
2488And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
2489Where opening roses breathing sweets diffuse,
2490And soft carnations shower their balmy dews;
2491Where lilies smile in virgin robes of white,
2492The thin undress of superficial light,
2493And varied tulips show so dazzling gay,
2494Blushing in bright diversities of day.
2495Each painted floweret in the lake below
2496Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;          
2497And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain
2498Transformd, gazes on himself again.
2499Here aged trees cathedral walks compose,
2500And mount the hill in venerable rows:
2501There the green infants in their beds are laid,
2502The garden's hope, and its expected shade.
2503Here orange-trees with blooms and pendants shine,
2504And vernal honours to their autumn join;
2505Exceed their promise in the ripen'd store,               
2506Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
2507There in bright drops the crystal fountains play,
2508By laurels shielded from the piercing day:
2509Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
2510Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
2511Still turns her beauties from the invading beam,
2512Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream.
2513The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
2514At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
2515Where summer's beauty midst of winter stays,
2516And winter's coolness spite of summer's rays.
2517Parson, these things in thy possessing
2518Are better than the bishop's blessing:
2519A wife that makes conserves; a steed
2520That carries double when there's need:
2521October store, and best Virginia,
2522Tithe-pig, and mortuary guinea:
2523Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
2524For which thy patron's weekly thank'd:
2525A large Concordance, bound long since:
2526Sermons to Charles the First, when prince:
2527A Chronicle of ancient standing;
2528A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in:
2529The Polyglotthree partsmy text,
2530Howbeitlikewisenow to my next:
2531Lo, here the Septuagintand Paul,
2532To sum the wholethe close of all.
2533He that has these, may pass his life,
2534Drink with the squire, and kiss his wife;
2535On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
2536And fast on Fridaysif he will;
2537Toast Church and Queen, explain the news,
2538Talk with churchwardens about pews,
2539Pray heartily for some new gift,
2540And shake his head at Doctor Swift.
2541In that soft season, when descending showers
2542Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers;
2543When opening buds salute the welcome day,
2544And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
2545As balmy sleep had charm'd my cares to rest,
2546And love itself was banish'd from my breast,
2547What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
2548While purer slumbers spread their golden wings,
2549A train of phantoms in wild order rose,
2550And, join'd, this intellectual scene compose.            
2551I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies;
2552The whole creation open to my eyes:
2553In air self-balanced hung the globe below,
2554Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;
2555Here naked rocks, and empty wastes were seen,
2556There towery cities, and the forests green:
2557Here sailing ships delight the wandering eyes:
2558There trees, and intermingled temples rise;
2559Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
2560The transient landscape now in clouds decays.            
2561O'er the wide prospect, as I gazed around,
2562Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,
2563Like broken thunders that at distance roar,
2564Or billows murmuring on the hollow shore:
2565Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,
2566Whose towering summit ambient clouds conceal'd.
2567High on a rock of ice the structure lay,
2568Steep its ascent, and slippery was the way;
2569The wondrous rock like Parian marble shone,
2570And seem'd, to distant sight, of solid stone.            
2571Inscriptions here of various names I view'd,
2572The greater part by hostile time subdued;
2573Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,
2574And poets once had promised they should last.
2575Some fresh engraved appear'd of wits renown'd;
2576I look'd again, nor could their trace be found.
2577Critics I saw, that other names deface,
2578And fix their own, with labour, in their place:
2579Their own, like others, soon their place resign'd,
2580Or disappear'd, and left the first behind.               
2581Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,
2582But felt the approaches of too warm a sun;
2583For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays
2584Not more by envy than excess of praise.
2585Yet part no injuries of heaven could feel,
2586Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
2587The rock's high summit, in the temple's shade,
2588Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
2589Their names inscribed unnumber'd ages past
2590From time's first birth, with time itself shall last;    
2591These ever new, nor subject to decays,
2592Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
2593So Zembla's rocks the beauteous work of frost
2594Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast;
2595Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away,
2596And on the impassive ice the lightnings play;
2597Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
2598Till the bright mountains prop the incumbent sky:
2599As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears,
2600The gather'd winter of a thousand years.                 
2601On this foundation Fame's high temple stands.
2602Stupendous pile! not rear'd by mortal hands.
2603Whate'er proud Rome or artful Greece beheld,
2604Or elder Babylon, its frame excell'd.
2605Four faces had the dome, and every face
2606Of various structure, but of equal grace;
2607Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high,
2608Salute the different quarters of the sky.
2609Here fabled chiefs in darker ages born,
2610Or worthies old, whom arms or arts adorn,                
2611Who cities raised, or tamed a monstrous race,
2612The walls in venerable order grace;
2613Heroes in animated marble frown,
2614And legislators seem to think in stone.
2615Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece appear'd,
2616On Doric pillars of white marble rear'd,
2617Crown'd with an architrave of antique mould,
2618And sculpture rising on the roughen'd gold.
2619In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld,
2620And Perseus dreadful with Minerva's shield:              
2621There great Alcides stooping with his toil,
2622Rests on his club, and holds th' Hesperian spoil.
2623Here Orpheus sings; trees, moving to the sound,
2624Start from their roots, and form a shade around;
2625Amphion there the loud creating lyre
2626Strikes, and behold a sudden Thebes aspire!
2627Cythron's echoes answer to his call,
2628And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
2629There might you see the lengthening spires ascend,
2630The domes swell up, the widening arches bend,            
2631The growing towers, like exhalations rise,
2632And the huge columns heave into the skies.
2633The eastern front was glorious to behold,
2634With diamond flaming, and barbaric gold.
2635There Ninus shone, who spread the Assyrian fame,
2636And the great founder of the Persian name:
2637There in long robes the royal Magi stand,
2638Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand,
2639The sage Chaldeans robed in white appear'd,
2640And Brachmans, deep in desert woods revered.            
2641These stopp'd the moon, and call'd the unbodied shades
2642To midnight banquets in the glimmering glades;
2643Made visionary fabrics round them rise,
2644And airy spectres skim before their eyes;
2645Of talismans and sigils knew the power,
2646And careful watch'd the planetary hour.
2647Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
2648Who taught that useful scienceto be good.
2649But on the south, a long majestic race
2650Of Egypt's priests the gilded niches grace,             
2651Who measured earth, described the starry spheres,
2652And traced the long records of lunar years.
2653High on his car Sesostris struck my view,
2654Whom sceptred slaves in golden harness drew:
2655His hands a bow and pointed javelin hold;
2656His giant limbs are arm'd in scales of gold.
2657Between the statues obelisks were placed,
2658And the learn'd walls with hieroglyphics graced.
2659Of Gothic structure was the northern side,
2660O'erwrought with ornaments of barbarous pride.          
2661There huge Colosses rose, with trophies crown'd,
2662And Runic characters were graved around.
2663There sat Zamolxis with erected eyes,
2664And Odin here in mimic trances dies.
2665There on rude iron columns, smear'd with blood,
2666The horrid forms of Seythian heroes stood,
2667Druids and Bards their once loud harps unstrung
2668And youths that died to be by poets sung.
2669These, and a thousand more of doubtful fame,
2670To whom old fables gave a lasting name,                 
2671In ranks adorn'd the temple's outward face;
2672The wall, in lustre and effect like glass,
2673Which o'er each object casting various dyes,
2674Enlarges some, and others multiplies:
2675Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall,
2676For thus romantic Fame increases all.
2677The temple shakes, the sounding gates unfold
2678Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold:
2679Raised on a thousand pillars, wreathed around
2680With laurel foliage, and with eagles crown'd:           
2681Of bright, transparent beryl were the walls,
2682The friezes gold, and gold the capitals:
2683As heaven with stars, the roof with jewels glows,
2684And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
2685Full in the passage of each spacious gate,
2686The sage historians in white garments wait;
2687Graved o'er their seats the form of Time was found,
2688His scythe reversed, and both his pinions bound.
2689Within stood heroes, who through loud alarms
2690In bloody fields pursued renown in arms.                
2691High on a throne, with trophies charged, I view'd
2692The youth that all things but himself subdued;
2693His feet on sceptres and tiaras trod,
2694And his horn'd head belied the Libyan god.
2695There Csar, graced with both Minervas, shone;
2696Csar, the world's great master, and his own;
2697Unmoved, superior still in every state,
2698And scarce detested in his country's fate.
2699But chief were those, who not for empire fought,
2700But with their toils their people's safety bought:      
2701High o'er the rest Epaminondas stood;
2702Timoleon, glorious in his brother's blood;
2703Bold Scipio, saviour of the Roman state;
2704Great in his triumphs, in retirement great;
2705And wise Aurelius, in whose well-taught mind,
2706With boundless power unbounded virtue join'd,
2707His own strict judge, and patron of mankind.
2708Much-suffering heroes next their honours claim,
2709Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame,
2710Fair Virtue's silent train: supreme of these            
2711Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
2712He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
2713At all times just, but when he sign'd the shell:
2714Here his abode the martyr'd Phocion claims,
2715With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:
2716Unconquer'd Cato shows the wound he tore,
2717And Brutus his ill Genius meets no more.
2718But in the centre of the hallow'd choir,
2719Six pompous columns o'er the rest aspire;
2720Around the shrine itself of Fame they stand,            
2721Hold the chief honours, and the fane command.
2722High on the first, the mighty Homer shone;
2723Eternal adamant composed his throne;
2724Father of verse! in holy fillets dress'd,
2725His silver beard waved gently o'er his breast;
2726Though blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
2727In years he seem'd, but not impair'd by years.
2728The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen:
2729Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;
2730Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus' fall,             
2731Here dragg'd in triumph round the Trojan wall:
2732Motion and life did every part inspire,
2733Bold was the work, and proved the master's fire;
2734A strong expression most he seem'd to affect,
2735And here and there disclosed a brave neglect.
2736A golden column next in rank appear'd,
2737On which a shrine of purest gold was rear'd;
2738Finish'd the whole, and labour'd every part,
2739With patient touches of unwearied art:
2740The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,                
2741Composed his posture, and his look sedate;
2742On Homer still he fix'd a reverend eye,
2743Great without pride, in modest majesty.
2744In living sculpture on the sides were spread
2745The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead;
2746Eliza stretch'd upon the funeral pyre,
2747neas bending with his aged sire:
2748Troy flamed in burning gold, and o'er the throne,
2749ARMS AND THE MAN in golden cyphers shone.
2750Four swans sustain a car of silver bright,              
2751With heads advanced, and pinions stretch'd for flight:
2752Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
2753And seem'd to labour with the inspiring god.
2754Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
2755And boldly sinks into the sounding strings.
2756The figured games of Greece the column grace,
2757Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race.
2758The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run;
2759The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone;
2760The champions in distorted postures threat;             
2761And all appear'd irregularly great.
2762Here happy Horace tuned the Ausonian lyre
2763To sweeter sounds, and temper'd Pindar's fire:
2764Pleased with Alcus' manly rage t' infuse
2765The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse.
2766The polish'd pillar different sculptures grace;
2767A work outlasting monumental brass.
2768Here smiling Loves and Bacchanals appear,
2769The Julian star, and great Augustus here;
2770The doves that round the infant poet spread             
2771Myrtles and bays, hung hovering o'er his head.
2772Here in a shrine that cast a dazzling light,
2773Sat, fix'd in thought, the mighty Stagyrite;
2774His sacred head a radiant zodiac crown'd,
2775And various animals his side surround;
2776His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
2777Superior worlds, and look all Nature through.
2778With equal rays immortal Tully shone,
2779The Roman rostra deck'd the Consul's throne:
2780Gathering his flowing robe, he seem'd to stand          
2781In act to speak, and graceful stretch'd his hand.
2782Behind, Rome's Genius waits with civic crowns,
2783And the great Father of his country owns.
2784These massy columns in a circle rise,
2785O'er which a pompous dome invades the skies:
2786Scarce to the top I stretch'd my aching sight,
2787So large it spread, and swell'd to such a height.
2788Full in the midst, proud Fame's imperial seat
2789With jewels blazed, magnificently great;
2790The vivid emeralds there revive the eye,                
2791The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye,
2792Bright azure rays from lively sapphires stream,
2793And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.
2794With various-colour'd light the pavement shone,
2795And all on fire appear'd the glowing throne;
2796The dome's high arch reflects the mingled blaze,
2797And forms a rainbow of alternate rays.
2798When on the goddess first I cast my sight,
2799Scarce seem'd her stature of a cubit's height;
2800But swell'd to larger size, the more I gazed,           
2801Till to the roof her towering front she raised.
2802With her, the temple every moment grew,
2803And ampler vistas open'd to my view:
2804Upward the columns shoot, the roofs ascend,
2805And arches widen, and long aisles extend.
2806Such was her form as ancient bards have told,
2807Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet infold;
2808A thousand busy tongues the goddess bears,
2809A thousand open eyes, and thousand listening ears.
2810Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine              
2811Her virgin handmaids still attend the shrine:
2812With eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they sing;
2813For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
2814With Time's first birth began the heavenly lays,
2815And last, eternal, through the length of days.
2816Around these wonders as I cast a look,
2817The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,
2818And all the nations, summon'd at the call,
2819From different quarters fill the crowded hall:
2820Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard        
2821In various garbs promiscuous throngs appear'd;
2822Thick as the bees, that with the spring renew
2823Their flowery toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
2824When the wing'd colonies first tempt the sky,
2825O'er dusky fields and shaded waters fly,
2826Or settling, seize the sweets the blossoms yield,
2827And a low murmur runs along the field.
2828Millions of suppliant crowds the shrine attend,
2829And all degrees before the goddess bend;
2830The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the sage,          
2831And boasting youth, and narrative old age.
2832Their pleas were different, their request the same:
2833For good and bad alike are fond of Fame.
2834Some she disgraced, and some with honours crown'd;
2835Unlike successes equal merits found.
2836Thus her blind sister, fickle Fortune, reigns,
2837And, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
2838First at the shrine the learnd world appear,
2839And to the goddess thus prefer their prayer:
2840Long have we sought to instruct and please mankind,    
2841With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind;
2842But thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none,
2843We here appeal to thy superior throne;
2844On wit and learning the just prize bestow,
2845For fame is all we must expect below.
2846The goddess heard, and bade the Muses raise
2847The golden trumpet of eternal praise:
2848From pole to pole the winds diffuse the sound,
2849That fills the circuit of the world around;
2850Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud;           
2851The notes at first were rather sweet than loud:
2852By just degrees they every moment rise,
2853Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.
2854At every breath were balmy odours shed,
2855Which still grew sweeter as they wider spread;
2856Less fragrant scents the unfolding rose exhales,
2857Or spices breathing in Arabian gales.
2858Next these, the good and just, an awful train,
2859Thus on their knees address the sacred fane:
2860Since living virtue is with envy cursed,               
2861And the best men are treated like the worst,
2862Do thou, just goddess, call our merits forth,
2863And give each deed the exact intrinsic worth.
2864Not with bare justice shall your act be crown'd,
2865Said Fame, but high above desert renown'd:
2866Let fuller notes the applauding world amaze,
2867And the loud clarion labour in your praise.
2868This band dismiss'd, behold, another crowd
2869Preferr'd the same request, and lowly bow'd;
2870The constant tenor of whose well-spent days             
2871No less deserved a just return of praise.
2872But straight the direful trump of Slander sounds;
2873Through the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
2874Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
2875The dire report through every region flies,
2876In every ear incessant rumours rung,
2877And gathering scandals grew on every tongue.
2878From the black trumpet's rusty concave broke
2879Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling smoke:
2880The poisonous vapour blots the purple skies,            
2881And withers all before it as it flies.
2882A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore,
2883And proud defiance in their looks they bore:
2884For thee' they cried, amidst alarms and strife,
2885We sail'd in tempests down the stream of life;
2886For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood,
2887And swam to empire through the purple flood.
2888Those ills we dared, thy inspiration own,
2889What virtue seem'd, was done for thee alone.
2890Ambitious fools!' the Queen replied, and frown'd     
2891Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown'd;
2892There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone,
2893Your statues moulder'd, and your names unknown!
2894A sudden cloud straight snatch'd them from my sight,
2895And each majestic phantom sunk in night.
2896Then came the smallest tribe I yet had seen;
2897Plain was their dress, and modest was their mien.
2898Great idol of mankind! we neither claim
2899The praise of merit, nor aspire to fame;
2900But safe in deserts from the applause of men,           
2901Would die unheard of, as we lived unseen;
2902Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from sight
2903Those acts of goodness which themselves requite.
2904Oh let us still the secret joy partake,
2905To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.
2906And live there men, who slight immortal Fame?
2907Who then with incense shall adore our name?
2908But, mortals! know, tis still our greatest pride
2909To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
2910Rise, Muses, rise! add all your tuneful breath;         
2911These must not sleep in darkness and in death.
2912She said: in air the trembling music floats,
2913And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
2914So soft, though high, so loud, and yet so clear,
2915Even listening angels lean'd from heaven to hear:
2916To furthest shores the ambrosial spirit flies,
2917Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
2918Next these a youthful train their vows express'd,
2919With feathers crown'd, with gay embroidery dress'd:
2920Hither' they cried direct your eyes, and see        
2921The men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry;
2922Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays,
2923Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;
2924Courts we frequent, where tis our pleasing care
2925To pay due visits, and address the fair:
2926In fact, tis true, no nymph we could persuade,
2927But still in fancy vanquish'd every maid;
2928Of unknown duchesses lewd tales we tell,
2929Yet, would the world believe us, all were well.
2930The joy let others have, and we the name,               
2931And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.
2932The Queen assents, the trumpet rends the skies,
2933And at each blast a lady's honour dies.
2934Pleased with the strange success, vast numbers press'd
2935Around the shrine, and made the same request:
2936What! you,' she cried unlearn'd in arts to please,
2937Slaves to yourselves, and even fatigued with ease,
2938Who lose a length of undeserving days,
2939Would you usurp the lover's dear-bought praise?
2940To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,             
2941The people's fable and the scorn of all.
2942Straight the black clarion sends a horrid sound,
2943Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round,
2944Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
2945And scornful hisses run through all the crowd.
2946Last, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
2947Enslave their country, or usurp a throne;
2948Or who their glory's dire foundation laid
2949On sovereigns ruin'd, or on friends betray'd;
2950Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix,       
2951Of crooked counsels, and dark politics;
2952Of these a gloomy tribe surround the throne,
2953And beg to make the immortal treasons known.
2954The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire,
2955With sparks, that seem'd to set the world on fire.
2956At the dread sound, pale mortals stood aghast,
2957And startled Nature trembled with the blast.
2958This having heard and seen, some Power unknown
2959Straight changed the scene, and snatch'd me from the throne.
2960Before my view appear'd a structure fair,               
2961Its site uncertain, if in earth or air;
2962With rapid motion turn'd the mansion round;
2963With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound;
2964Not less in number were the spacious doors,
2965Than leaves on trees, or sands upon the shores;
2966Which still unfolded stand, by night, by day,
2967Pervious to winds, and open every way.
2968As flames by nature to the skies ascend,
2969As weighty bodies to the centre tend,
2970As to the sea returning rivers roll,                    
2971And the touch'd needle trembles to the pole;
2972Hither, as to their proper place, arise
2973All various sounds from earth, and seas, and skies,
2974Or spoke aloud, or whisper'd in the ear;
2975Nor ever silence, rest, or peace is here.
2976As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes
2977The sinking stone at first a circle makes;
2978The trembling surface by the motion stirr'd,
2979Spreads in a second circle, then a third;
2980Wide, and more wide, the floating rings advance,        
2981Fill all the watery plain, and to the margin dance:
2982Thus every voice and sound, when first they break,
2983On neighbouring air a soft impression make;
2984Another ambient circle then they move;
2985That, in its turn, impels the next above;
2986Through undulating air the sounds are sent,
2987And spread o'er all the fluid element.
2988There various news I heard of love and strife,
2989Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, and life,
2990Of loss and gain, of famine and of store,               
2991Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore,
2992Of prodigies, and portents seen in air,
2993Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing hair,
2994Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,
2995The falls of favourites, projects of the great,
2996Of old mismanagements, taxations new:
2997All neither wholly false, nor wholly true.
2998Above, below, without, within, around,
2999Confused, unnumber'd multitudes are found,
3000Who pass, repass, advance, and glide away;               
3001Hosts raised by fear, and phantoms of a day:
3002Astrologers, that future fates foreshow;
3003Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few;
3004And priests, and party-zealots, numerous bands
3005With home-born lies, or tales from foreign lands;
3006Each talk'd aloud, or in some secret place,
3007And wild impatience stared in every face.
3008The flying rumours gather'd as they roll'd,
3009Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
3010And all who told it added something new,                
3011And all who heard it made enlargements too,
3012In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.
3013Thus flying east and west, and north and south,
3014News travell'd with increase from mouth to mouth.
3015So from a spark, that kindled first by chance,
3016With gathering force the quickening flames advance;
3017Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire,
3018And towers and temples sink in floods of fire.
3019When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,
3020Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue,           
3021Through thousand vents, impatient, forth they flow,
3022And rush in millions on the world below.
3023Fame sits aloft, and points them out their course,
3024Their date determines, and prescribes their force:
3025Some to remain, and some to perish soon;
3026Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.
3027Around, a thousand wingd wonders fly,
3028Born by the trumpet's blast, and scatter'd through the sky.
3029There, at one passage, oft you might survey
3030A lie and truth contending for the way;                 
3031And long twas doubtful, both so closely pent,
3032Which first should issue through the narrow vent:
3033At last agreed, together out they fly,
3034Inseparable now, the truth and lie;
3035The strict companions are for ever join'd,
3036And this or that unmix'd, no mortal e'er shall find.
3037While thus I stood, intent to see and hear,
3038One came, methought, and whisper'd in my ear:
3039What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
3040Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?' Tis true,' said I, not void of hopes I came,
3041For who so fond as youthful bards of fame?
3042But few, alas! the casual blessing boast,
3043So hard to gain, so easy to be lost.
3044How vain that second life in others' breath,
3045The estate which wits inherit after death!
3046Ease, health, and life, for this they must resign,
3047Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!
3048The great man's curse, without the gains, endure,
3049Be envied, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor;            
3050All luckless wits their enemies profess'd,
3051And all successful, jealous friends at best.
3052Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
3053She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
3054But if the purchase costs so dear a price,
3055As soothing folly, or exalting vice;
3056Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway,
3057And follow still where fortune leads the way;
3058Or if no basis bear my rising name,
3059But the fallen ruins of another's fame;                 
3060Then teach me, Heaven! to scorn the guilty bays,
3061Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise,
3062Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown;
3063Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
3064In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
3065Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells,
3066And ever-musing Melancholy reigns,
3067What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?
3068Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
3069Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
3070Yet, yet I love!From Abelard it came,
3071And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.
3072Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
3073Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd:              
3074Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise
3075Where, mix'd with God's, his loved idea lies:
3076Oh write it not, my hand!the name appears
3077Already writtenwash it out, my tears!
3078In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,
3079Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.
3080Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains
3081Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
3082Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
3083Ye grots and caverns, shagg'd with horrid thorn!         
3084Shrines! where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep,
3085And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
3086Though cold like you, unmoved and silent grown,
3087I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
3088All is not Heaven's while Abelard has part,
3089Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
3090Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
3091Nor tears for ages taught to flow in vain.
3092Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
3093That well-known name awakens all my woes.                
3094Oh, name for ever sad! for ever dear!
3095Still breathed in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
3096I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
3097Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
3098Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
3099Led through a sad variety of woe;
3100Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,
3101Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
3102There stern religion quench'd the unwilling flame,
3103There died the best of passions, Love and Fame.          
3104Yet write, oh! write me all, that I may join
3105Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
3106Nor foes nor fortune take this power away;
3107And is my Abelard less kind than they?
3108Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
3109Love but demands what else were shed in prayer;
3110No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
3111To read and weep is all they now can do.
3112Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
3113Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief!           
3114Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
3115Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;
3116They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
3117Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;
3118The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
3119Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
3120Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
3121And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
3122Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
3123When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;         
3124My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
3125Some emanation of the all-beauteous Mind.
3126Those smiling eyes, attempering every ray,
3127Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
3128Guiltless I gazed; Heaven listen'd while you sung;
3129And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
3130From lips like those, what precept fail'd to move?
3131Too soon they taught me twas no sin to love:
3132Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
3133Nor wish'd an angel whom I loved a man.                  
3134Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
3135Nor envy them that heaven I lose for thee.
3136How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
3137Curse on all laws but those which Love has made!
3138Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
3139Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
3140Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
3141August her deed, and sacred be her fame;                 
3142Before true passion all those views remove;
3143Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
3144The jealous god, when we profane his fires,
3145Those restless passions in revenge inspires,
3146And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
3147Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
3148Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
3149Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn them all:
3150Not Csar's empress would I deign to prove;
3151No, make me mistress to the man I love;
3152If there be yet another name more free,
3153More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!           
3154Oh, happy state! when souls each other draw,
3155When love is liberty, and nature law:
3156All then is full, possessing and possess'd,
3157No craving void left aching in the breast:
3158Even thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
3159And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
3160This, sure, is bliss if bliss on earth there be
3161And once the lot of Abelard and me.
3162Alas, how changed! what sudden horrors rise!
3163A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!                  
3164Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand,
3165Her poniard, had opposed the dire command.
3166Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
3167The crime was common, common be the pain.
3168I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,
3169Let tears and burning blushes speak the rest.
3170Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
3171When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
3172Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
3173When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?         
3174As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
3175The shrines all trembled, and the lamps grew pale:
3176Heaven scarce believed the conquest it survey'd,
3177And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
3178Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
3179Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
3180Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
3181And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
3182Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
3183Those still at least are left thee to bestow.           
3184Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
3185Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,
3186Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
3187Give all thou canstand let me dream the rest.
3188Ah, no! instruct me other joys to prize,
3189With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
3190Full in my view set all the bright abode,
3191And make my soul quit Abelard for God.
3192Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care,
3193Plants of thy hand, and children of thy prayer.         
3194From the false world in early youth they fled,
3195By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.
3196You raised these hallow'd walls; the desert smiled,
3197And Paradise was open'd in the wild.
3198No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
3199Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
3200No silver saints, by dying misers given,
3201Here bribed the rage of ill-requited Heaven:
3202But such plain roofs as Piety could raise,
3203And only vocal with the Maker's praise.                 
3204In these lone walls, their day's eternal bound
3205These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
3206Where awful arches make a noonday night,
3207And the dim windows shed a solemn light;
3208Thy eyes diffused a reconciling ray,
3209And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
3210But now no face divine contentment wears,
3211Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
3212See how the force of others' prayers I try,
3213Oh pious fraud of amorous charity!                    
3214But why should I on others' prayers depend?
3215Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
3216Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,
3217And all those tender names in onethy love!
3218The darksome pines that, o'er yon rocks reclined,
3219Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
3220The wandering streams that shine between the hills,
3221The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
3222The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
3223The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;            
3224No more these scenes my meditation aid,
3225Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
3226But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
3227Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
3228Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
3229A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
3230Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
3231Shades every flower, and darkens every green,
3232Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
3233And breathes a browner horror on the woods.             
3234Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
3235Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
3236Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
3237And here, even then, shall my cold dust remain;
3238Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
3239And wait till tis no sin to mix with thine.
3240Ah, wretch! believed the spouse of God in vain,
3241Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
3242Assist me, Heaven! but whence arose that prayer?
3243Sprung it from piety, or from despair?                  
3244Even here, where frozen chastity retires,
3245Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
3246I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
3247I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
3248I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
3249Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
3250Now turn'd to Heaven, I weep my past offence,
3251Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
3252Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
3253Tis sure the hardest science to forget!                
3254How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
3255And love the offender, yet detest the offence?
3256How the dear object from the crime remove,
3257Or how distinguish penitence from love?
3258Unequal task! a passion to resign,
3259For hearts so touch'd, so pierced, so lost as mine.
3260Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
3261How often must it love, how often hate!
3262How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
3263Conceal, disdain,do all things but forget!            
3264But let Heaven seize it, all at once tis fired;
3265Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspired!
3266Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
3267Renounce my love, my life, myselfand you.
3268Fill my fond heart with God alone, for He
3269Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.
3270How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot!
3271The world forgetting, by the world forgot:
3272Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
3273Each prayer accepted, and each wish resign'd;           
3274Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
3275Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;
3276Desires composed, affections ever even;
3277Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heaven.
3278Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
3279And whispering angels prompt her golden dreams.
3280For her the unfading rose of Eden blooms,
3281And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes;
3282For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
3283For her white virgins hymeneals sing,                   
3284To sounds of heavenly harps she dies away,
3285And melts in visions of eternal day.
3286Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
3287Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
3288When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
3289Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
3290Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
3291All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
3292O curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
3293How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!              
3294Provoking demons all restraint remove,
3295And stir within me every source of love.
3296I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
3297And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
3298I wake:no more I hear, no more I view,
3299The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
3300I call aloud; it hears not what I say:
3301I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
3302To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
3303Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!                 
3304Alas, no more! methinks we wandering go
3305Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
3306Where round some mouldering tower pale ivy creeps,
3307And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
3308Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
3309Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
3310I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
3311And wake to all the griefs I left behind.
3312For thee the Fates, severely kind, ordain
3313A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;            
3314Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose;
3315No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
3316Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
3317Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
3318Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiven,
3319And mild as opening gleams of promised heaven.
3320Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
3321The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
3322Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
3323Even thou art coldyet Eloisa loves.                   
3324Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
3325To light the dead, and warm the unfruitful urn.
3326What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?
3327The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,
3328Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,
3329Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
3330I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,
3331Thy image steals between my God and me,
3332Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear,
3333With every bead I drop too soft a tear.                 
3334When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
3335And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
3336One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
3337Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
3338In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
3339While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.
3340While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
3341Kind, virtuous drops just gathering in my eye,
3342While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
3343And dawning grace is opening on my soul:                
3344Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
3345Oppose thyself to heaven; dispute my heart;
3346Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
3347Blot out each bright idea of the skies;
3348Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
3349Take back my fruitless penitence and prayers;
3350Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
3351Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!
3352No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
3353Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!            
3354Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
3355Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee!
3356Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
3357Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
3358Fair eyes, and tempting looks which yet I view
3359Long loved, adored ideas, all adieu!
3360O Grace serene! O Virtue heavenly fair!
3361Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
3362Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the sky!           
3363And Faith, our early immortality!
3364Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
3365Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!
3366See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,
3367Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
3368In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,
3369And more than echoes talk along the walls.
3370Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
3371From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
3372Come, sister, come!' it said, or seem'd to say
3373Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!              
3374Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
3375Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:
3376But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
3377Here Grief forgets to groan, and Love to weep,
3378Even Superstition loses every fear:
3379For God, not man, absolves our frailties here.
3380I come, I come! prepare your roseate bowers,
3381Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers.
3382Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
3383Where flames refined in breasts seraphic glow:          
3384Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
3385And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
3386See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll,
3387Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
3388Ah, no!in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
3389The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
3390Present the cross before my lifted eye,
3391Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
3392Ah, then thy once-loved Eloisa see!
3393It will be then no crime to gaze on me.                 
3394See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
3395See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
3396Till every motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
3397And even my Abelard be loved no more.
3398O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
3399What dust we doat on when tis man we love.
3400Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
3401That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy!
3402In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
3403Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round,     
3404From opening skies may streaming glories shine,
3405And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.
3406May one kind grave unite each hapless name,
3407And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
3408Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
3409When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
3410If ever chance two wandering lovers brings
3411To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
3412O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
3413And drink the falling tears each other sheds;           
3414Then sadly say,with mutual pity moved,
3415Oh, may we never love as these have loved!
3416From the full choir when loud hosannas rise,
3417And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
3418Amid that scene, if some relenting eye
3419Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,
3420Devotion's self shall steal a thought from heaven,
3421One human tear shall drop, and be forgiven.
3422And sure, if Fate some future bard shall join
3423In sad similitude of griefs to mine,                    
3424Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
3425And image charms he must behold no more;
3426Such if there be, who love so long, so well,
3427Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
3428The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
3429He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
3430Such were the notes thy once-loved Poet sung,
3431Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
3432Oh just beheld and lost! admired and mourn'd!
3433With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd!
3434Blest in each science, blest in every strain!
3435Dear to the Muse! to Harley dearin vain!
3436For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend,
3437Fond to forget the statesman in the friend;
3438For Swift and him, despised the farce of state,
3439The sober follies of the wise and great;                 
3440Dext'rous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit,
3441And pleased to scape from Flattery to Wit.
3442Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear,
3443A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear,
3444Recall those nights that closed thy toilsome days,
3445Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays,
3446Who, careless now of interest, fame, or fate,
3447Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great;
3448Or deeming meanest what we greatest call,
3449Behold thee glorious only in thy fall.                   
3450And sure, if aught below the seats divine
3451Can touch immortals, tis a soul like thine:
3452A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried,
3453Above all pain, all passion, and all pride,
3454The rage of power, the blast of public breath,
3455The lust of lucre, and the dread of death.
3456In vain to deserts thy retreat is made;
3457The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade:
3458Tis hers the brave man's latest steps to trace,
3459Rejudge his acts, and dignify disgrace.                  
3460When interest calls off all her sneaking train,
3461And all the obliged desert, and all the vain,
3462She waits, or to the scaffold, or the cell,
3463When the last lingering friend has bid farewell.
3464Even now she shades thy evening-walk with bays,
3465No hireling she, no prostitute to praise,
3466Even now, observant of the parting ray,
3467Eyes the calm sunset of thy various day;
3468Through Fortune's cloud one truly great can see,
3469Nor fears to tell that Mortimer is he.
3470A soul as full of worth, as void of pride,
3471Which nothing seeks to show, or needs to hide,
3472Which nor to guilt nor fear its caution owes,
3473And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows.
3474A face untaught to feign; a judging eye,
3475That darts severe upon a rising lie,
3476And strikes a blush through frontless flattery.
3477All this thou wert; and being this before,
3478Know, kings and fortune cannot make thee more.
3479Then scorn to gain a friend by servile ways,
3480Nor wish to lose a foe these virtues raise;
3481But candid, free, sincere, as you began,
3482Proceeda minister, but still a man.
3483Be not exalted to whate'er degree
3484Ashamed of any friend, not even of me:
3485The patriot's plain, but untrod path pursue;
3486If not, tis I must be ashamed of you.
3487This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse
3488This from no venal or ungrateful Muse.
3489Whether thy hand strike out some free design,
3490Where life awakes, and dawns at every line;
3491Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass,
3492And from the canvas call the mimic face:
3493Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire
3494Fresnoy's close art, and Dryden's native fire:
3495And, reading, wish like theirs our fate and fame,
3496So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name;            
3497Like them to shine through long succeeding age,
3498So just thy skill, so regular my rage.
3499Smit with the love of sister-arts we came,
3500And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;
3501Like friendly colours found them both unite,
3502And each from each contract new strength and light.
3503How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day,
3504While summer suns roll unperceived away!
3505How oft our slowly-growing works impart,
3506While images reflect from art to art!                    
3507How oft review; each finding, like a friend,
3508Something to blame, and something to commend!
3509What flattering scenes our wandering fancy wrought,
3510Rome's pompous glories rising to our thought!
3511Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
3512Fired with ideas of fair Italy.
3513With thee on Raphael's monument I mourn.
3514Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn:
3515With thee repose where Tully once was laid,
3516Or seek some ruin's formidable shade:                    
3517While fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view.
3518And builds imaginary Rome anew.
3519Here thy well-studied marbles fix our eye;
3520A fading fresco here demands a sigh:
3521Each heavenly piece unwearied we compare,
3522Match Raphael's grace with thy loved Guide's air,
3523Carracci's strength, Correggio's softer line,
3524Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
3525How finish'd with illustrious toil appears
3526This small, well-polish'd gem, the work of years!     
3527Yet still how faint by precept is express'd
3528The living image in the painter's breast!
3529Thence endless streams of fair ideas flow,
3530Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow;
3531Thence Beauty, waking all her forms, supplies
3532An angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes.
3533Muse! at that name thy sacred sorrows shed,
3534Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead;
3535Call round her tomb each object of desire,
3536Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire:               
3537Bid her be all that cheers or softens life,
3538The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife:
3539Bid her be all that makes mankind adore;
3540Then view this marble, and be vain no more!
3541Yet still her charms in breathing paint engage;
3542Her modest cheek shall warm a future age.
3543Beauty, frail flower that every season fears,
3544Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.
3545Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprise,
3546And other beauties envy Worsley's eyes;               
3547Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow,
3548And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow.
3549Oh, lasting as those colours may they shine,
3550Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line;
3551New graces yearly like thy works display,
3552Soft without weakness, without glaring gay;
3553Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains;
3554And finish'd more through happiness than pains.
3555The kindred arts shall in their praise conspire,
3556One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre.             
3557Yet should the Graces all thy figures place,
3558And breathe an air divine on every face;
3559Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll
3560Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul;
3561With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie,
3562And these be sung till Granville's Myra die:
3563Alas! how little from the grave we claim!
3564Thou but preserv'st a face, and I a name.
3565In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces shine,
3566And all the writer lives in every line;
3567His easy art may happy nature seem,
3568Trifles themselves are elegant in him.
3569Sure, to charm all was his peculiar fate,
3570Who without flattery pleased the fair and great;
3571Still with esteem no less conversed than read;
3572With wit well-natured, and with books well-bred:
3573His heart, his mistress, and his friend did share,
3574His time, the Muse, the witty, and the fair.             
3575Thus wisely careless, innocently gay,
3576Cheerful he play'd the trifle, Life, away;
3577Till Fate scarce felt his gentle breath suppress'd,
3578As smiling infants sport themselves to rest.
3579Even rival wits did Voiture's death deplore,
3580And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before;
3581The truest hearts for Voiture heaved with sighs,
3582Voiture was wept by all the brightest eyes:
3583The Smiles and Loves had died in Voiture's death,
3584But that for ever in his lines they breathe.             
3585Let the strict life of graver mortals be
3586A long, exact, and serious comedy;
3587In every scene some moral let it teach,
3588And if it can, at once both please and preach.
3589Let mine an innocent gay farce appear,
3590And more diverting still than regular,
3591Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace,
3592Though not too strictly bound to time and place:
3593Critics in wit, or life, are hard to please,
3594Few write to those, and none can live to these.          
3595Too much your sex is by their forms confined,
3596Severe to all, but most to womankind;
3597Custom, grown blind with age, must be your guide;
3598Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride;
3599By nature yielding, stubborn but for fame;
3600Made slaves by honour, and made fools by shame.
3601Marriage may all those petty tyrants chase,
3602But sets up one, a greater, in their place;
3603Well might you wish for change, by those accursed,
3604But the last tyrant ever proves the worst.               
3605Still in constraint your suffering sex remains,
3606Or bound in formal, or in real chains:
3607Whole years neglected, for some months adored,
3608The fawning servant turns a haughty lord.
3609Ah, quit not the free innocence of life,
3610For the dull glory of a virtuous wife;
3611Nor let false shows, or empty titles please:
3612Aim not at joy, but rest content with ease!
3613The gods, to curse Pamela with her prayers,
3614Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares,          
3615The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state,
3616And, to complete her bliss, a fool for mate.
3617She glares in balls, front boxes, and the Ring,
3618A vain, unquiet, glittering, wretched thing!
3619Pride, pomp, and state but reach her outward part:
3620She sighs, and is no duchess at her heart.
3621But, madam, if the Fates withstand, and you
3622Are destined Hymen's willing victim too:
3623Trust not too much your now resistless charms,
3624Those, age or sickness, soon or late, disarms:           
3625Good-humour only teaches charms to last,
3626Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past;
3627Love, raised on beauty, will like that decay,
3628Our hearts may bear its slender chain a day;
3629As flowery bands in wantonness are worn,
3630A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn;
3631This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong,
3632The willing heart, and only holds it long.
3633As some fond virgin, whom her mother's care
3634Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
3635Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
3636And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
3637From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
3638Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
3639Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
3640Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
3641Not that their pleasures caused her discontent,
3642She sigh'd not that they staid, but that she went.       
3643She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
3644Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
3645She went from opera, park, assembly, play,
3646To morning-walks, and prayers three hours a-day:
3647To part her time twixt reading and bohea,
3648To muse, and spill her solitary tea;
3649Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
3650Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
3651Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
3652Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire;            
3653Up to her godly garret after seven,
3654There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
3655Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
3656Whose game is whist, whose treat, a toast in sack;
3657Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
3658Then gives a smacking buss, and criesNo words!
3659Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable,
3660Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
3661Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,
3662And loves you best of all thingsbut his horse.         
3663In some fair evening, on your elbow laid,
3664You dream of triumphs in the rural shade;
3665In pensive thought recall the fancied scene,
3666See coronations rise on every green;
3667Before you pass the imaginary sights
3668Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights,
3669While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes;
3670Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
3671Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls,
3672And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!             
3673So when your slave, at some dear idle time,
3674Not plagued with headaches, or the want of rhyme
3675Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
3676And while he seems to study, thinks of you;
3677Just when his fancy paints your sprightly eyes,
3678Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,
3679Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
3680Streets, chairs, and coxcombs rush upon my sight;
3681Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,
3682Look sour, and hum a tune, as you do now.
3683Oh, be thou blest with all that Heaven can send,
3684Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend:
3685Not with those toys the female world admire,
3686Riches that vex, and vanities that tire.
3687With added years, if life bring nothing new,
3688But, like a sieve, let every blessing through,
3689Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er,
3690And all we gain, some sad reflection more;
3691Is that a birthday? tis alas! too clear
3692Tis but the funeral of the former year.                 
3693Let joy or ease, let affluence or content,
3694And the gay conscience of a life well spent,
3695Calm every thought, inspirit every grace,
3696Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face
3697Let day improve on day, and year on year,
3698Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear;
3699Till death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
3700In some soft dream, or ecstasy of joy,
3701Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the tomb,
3702And wake to raptures in a life to come.
3703A pleasing form; a firm, yet cautious mind;
3704Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd:
3705Honour unchanged, a principle profess'd,
3706Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest:
3707An honest courtier, yet a patriot too;
3708Just to his prince, and to his country true:
3709Fill'd with the sense of age, the fire of youth,
3710A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth;
3711A generous faith, from superstition free:
3712A love to peace, and hate of tyranny;
3713Such this man was; who now, from earth removed,
3714At length enjoys that liberty he loved.
3715To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near;
3716Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear:
3717Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide,
3718Or gave his father grief but when he died.
3719How vain is reason, eloquence how weak!
3720If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak.
3721Oh, let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone,
3722And, with a father's sorrows, mix his own!
3723Statesman, yet friend to Truth! of soul sincere,
3724In action faithful, and in honour clear!
3725Who broke no promise, served no private end,
3726Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend;
3727Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
3728Praised, wept, and honour'd by the Muse he loved.
3729Thy relics, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust,
3730And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust:
3731Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
3732To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes.
3733Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!
3734Blest in thy genius, in thy love, too, blest!
3735One grateful woman to thy fame supplies
3736What a whole thankless land to his denies.
3737Here rests a woman, good without pretence,
3738Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense:
3739No conquests she, but o'er herself, desired,
3740No arts essay'd, but not to be admired.
3741Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
3742Convinced that virtue only is our own.
3743So unaffected, so composed a mind;
3744So firm, yet soft; so strong, yet so refined;
3745Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried;
3746The saint sustain'd it, but the woman died.
3747Go! fair example of untainted youth,
3748Of modest wisdom, and pacific truth:
3749Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate,
3750Good without noise, without pretension great.
3751Just of thy word, in every thought sincere,
3752Who knew no wish but what the world might hear:
3753Of softest manners, unaffected mind,
3754Lover of peace, and friend of human kind:
3755Go live! for Heaven's eternal year is thine,
3756Go, and exalt thy moral to divine.
3757And thou, bless'd maid! attendant on his doom,
3758Pensive hast follow'd to the silent tomb,
3759Steer'd the same course to the same quiet shore,
3760Not parted long, and now to part no more!
3761Go then, where only bliss sincere is known!
3762Go, where to love and to enjoy are one!
3763Yet take these tears, Mortality's relief,
3764And till we share your joys, forgive our grief:
3765These little rites, a stone, a verse receive;
3766Tis all a father, all a friend can give!
3767Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
3768Thy country's friend, but more of human kind.
3769Oh, born to arms! oh, worth in youth approved!
3770Oh, soft humanity, in age beloved!
3771For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear,
3772And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere.
3773Withers, adieu! yet not with thee remove
3774Thy martial spirit, or thy social love!
3775Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,
3776Still leave some ancient virtues to our age:
3777Nor let us say those English glories gone
3778The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.
3779This modest stone, what few vain marbles can,
3780May truly say, Here lies an honest man:
3781A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate,
3782Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and great:
3783Foe to loud praise, and friend to learnd ease,
3784Content with science in the vale of peace.
3785Calmly he look'd on either life, and here
3786Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear;
3787From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfied,
3788Thank'd Heaven that he had lived, and that he died.
3789Of manners gentle, of affections mild;
3790In wit, a man; simplicity, a child:
3791With native humour tempering virtuous rage,
3792Form'd to delight at once and lash the age:
3793Above temptation in a low estate,
3794And uncorrupted, even among the great:
3795A safe companion, and an easy friend,
3796Unblamed through life, lamented in thy end.
3797These are thy honours! not that here thy bust
3798Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust;
3799But that the worthy and the good shall say,
3800Striking their pensive bosomsHere lies Gay.
3801If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd,
3802And every opening virtue blooming round,
3803Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,
3804Or add one patriot to a sinking state;
3805This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
3806Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!
3807The living virtue now had shone approved,
3808The senate heard him, and his country loved.
3809Yet softer honours, and less noisy fame
3810Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:
3811In whom a race, for courage famed and art,
3812Ends in the milder merit of the heart;
3813And chiefs or sages long to Britain given,
3814Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven.
3815Under this marble, or under this sill,
3816Or under this turf, or e'en what they will;
3817Whatever an heir, or a friend in his stead,
3818Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head,
3819Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin
3820What they said, or may say, of the mortal within:
3821But who, living and dying, serene still and free,
3822Trusts in God, that as well as he was, he shall be.
3823When Eastern lovers feed the funeral fire,
3824On the same pile the faithful pair expire.
3825Here pitying Heaven that virtue mutual found,
3826And blasted both, that it might neither wound.
3827Hearts so sincere, the Almighty saw well pleased,
3828Sent his own lightning, and the victims seized.
3829Awake, my St John! leave all meaner things
3830To low ambition, and the pride of kings.
3831Let us since life can little more supply
3832Than just to look about us and to die
3833Expatiate free o'er all this scene of Man;
3834A mighty maze! but not without a plan;
3835A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot;
3836Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
3837Together let us beat this ample field,
3838Try what the open, what the covert yield;                
3839The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore
3840Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
3841Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
3842And catch the manners living as they rise;
3843Laugh where we must, be candid where we can;
3844But vindicate the ways of God to Man.
3845Say first, of God above, or Man below,
3846What can we reason, but from what we know?
3847Of Man, what see we but his station here,
3848From which to reason, or to which refer?                 
3849Through worlds unnumber'd, though the God be known,
3850Tis ours to trace him only in our own.
3851He who through vast immensity can pierce,
3852See worlds on worlds compose one universe,
3853Observe how system into system runs,
3854What other planets circle other suns,
3855What varied being peoples every star,
3856May tell why Heaven has made us as we are.
3857But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
3858The strong connexions, nice dependencies,                
3859Gradations just, has thy pervading soul
3860Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole?
3861Presumptuous Man! the reason wouldst thou find,
3862Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind?
3863First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
3864Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less?
3865Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
3866Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?            
3867Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
3868Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove?
3869Of systems possible, if tis confess'd
3870That Wisdom infinite must form the best,
3871Where all must full or not coherent be,
3872And all that rises, rise in due degree;
3873Then, in the scale of reasoning life, tis plain,
3874There must be, somewhere, such a rank as Man:
3875And all the question wrangle e'er so long
3876Is only this, if God has placed him wrong?               
3877Respecting Man, whatever wrong we call,
3878May, must be right, as relative to all.
3879In human works, though labour'd on with pain,
3880A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain;
3881In God's, one single can its end produce;
3882Yet serves to second, too, some other use.
3883So Man, who here seems principal alone,
3884Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
3885Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal;
3886Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.                 
3887When the proud steed shall know why Man restrains
3888His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains;
3889When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,
3890Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god:
3891Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend
3892His actions', passions', being's use and end;
3893Why doing, suffering, check'd, impell'd; and why
3894This hour a slave, the next a deity.
3895Then say not Man's imperfect, Heaven in fault;
3896Say rather, Man's as perfect as he ought:                
3897His knowledge measured to his state and place;
3898His time a moment, and a point his space.
3899If to be perfect in a certain sphere,
3900What matter, soon or late, or here or there?
3901The blest to-day is as completely so,
3902As who began a thousand years ago.
3903III. Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate,
3904All but the page prescribed, their present state:
3905From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
3906Or who could suffer being here below?                    
3907The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
3908Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
3909Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
3910And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
3911Oh blindness to the future! kindly given,
3912That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heaven:
3913Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
3914A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
3915Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,
3916And now a bubble burst, and now a world.                 
3917Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
3918Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore.
3919What future bliss, He gives not thee to know,
3920But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
3921Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
3922Man never Is, but always To be blest:
3923The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
3924Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
3925Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind
3926Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;           
3927His soul, proud science never taught to stray
3928Far as the solar walk, or milky-way;
3929Yet simple nature to his hope has given,
3930Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heaven;
3931Some safer world in depth of woods embraced,
3932Some happier island in the watery waste,
3933Where slaves once more their native land behold,
3934No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
3935To be, contents his natural desire,
3936He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;              
3937But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
3938His faithful dog shall bear him company.
3939Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense,
3940Weigh thy opinion against Providence;
3941Call imperfection what thou fanciest such,
3942Say, here he gives too little, there too much:
3943Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust,
3944Yet cry, If Man's unhappy, God's unjust:
3945If Man alone engross not Heaven's high care,
3946Alone made perfect here, immortal there:                
3947Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod,
3948Re-judge his justice, be the God of God.
3949In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;
3950All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies.
3951Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
3952Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
3953Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell,
3954Aspiring to be angels, men rebel:
3955And who but wishes to invert the laws
3956Of order, sins against the Eternal Cause.
3957Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine,
3958Earth for whose use? Pride answers, 'Tis for mine:
3959For me kind Nature wakes her genial power,
3960Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower;
3961Annual for me the grape, the rose renew,
3962The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew;
3963For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings;
3964For me, health gushes from a thousand springs;
3965Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise;
3966My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
3967But errs not Nature from this gracious end,
3968From burning suns when livid deaths descend,
3969When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep
3970Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep?
3971No' tis replied, the first Almighty Cause
3972Acts not by partial, but by general laws;
3973Th' exceptions few; some change, since all began:
3974And what created perfect?'Why then Man?
3975If the great end be human happiness,
3976Then Nature deviates; and can Man do less?              
3977As much that end a constant course requires
3978Of showers and sunshine, as of Man's desires;
3979As much eternal springs and cloudless skies,
3980As men for ever temperate, calm, and wise.
3981If plagues or earthquakes break not Heaven's design,
3982Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline?
3983Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms,
3984Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the storms,
3985Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind,
3986Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?          
3987From pride, from pride, our very reasoning springs;
3988Account for moral, as for natural things:
3989Why charge we Heaven in those, in these acquit?
3990In both, to reason right, is to submit.
3991Better for us, perhaps, it might appear,
3992Were there all harmony, all virtue here;
3993That never air or ocean felt the wind,
3994That never passion discomposed the mind.
3995But all subsists by elemental strife;
3996And passions are the elements of life.                  
3997The general order, since the whole began,
3998Is kept in Nature, and is kept in Man.
3999VI. What would this Man? Now upward will he soar,
4000And, little less than angel, would be more;
4001Now looking downwards, just as grieved appears
4002To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears.
4003Made for his use all creatures if he call,
4004Say, what their use, had he the powers of all?
4005Nature to these, without profusion, kind,
4006The proper organs, proper powers assign'd;              
4007Each seeming want compensated, of course,
4008Here with degrees of swiftness, there of force;
4009All in exact proportion to the state;
4010Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
4011Each beast, each insect, happy in its own:
4012Is Heaven unkind to Man, and Man alone?
4013Shall he alone, whom rational we call,
4014Be pleased with nothing, if not bless'd with all?
4015The bliss of Man could pride that blessing find
4016Is not to act or think beyond mankind;                  
4017No powers of body or of soul to share,
4018But what his nature and his state can bear.
4019Why has not Man a microscopic eye?
4020For this plain reason, Man is not a fly.
4021Say, what the use, were finer optics given,
4022T'inspect a mite, not comprehend the heaven?
4023Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er,
4024To smart and agonise at every pore?
4025Or, quick effluvia darting through the brain,
4026Die of a rose in aromatic pain?                         
4027If nature thunder'd in his opening ears,
4028And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres,
4029How would he wish that Heaven had left him still
4030The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill?
4031Who finds not Providence all good and wise,
4032Alike in what it gives, and what denies?
4033VII. Far as Creation's ample range extends,
4034The scale of sensual, mental powers ascends:
4035Mark how it mounts, to Man's imperial race,
4036From the green myriads in the peopled grass:            
4037What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme,
4038The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam!
4039Of smell, the headlong lioness between,
4040And hound sagacious on the tainted green:
4041Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood,
4042To that which warbles through the vernal wood:
4043The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
4044Feels at each thread, and lives along the line:
4045In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
4046From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew!          
4047How instinct varies in the grovelling swine,
4048Compared, half-reasoning elephant, with thine!
4049Twixt that and reason, what a nice barrier:
4050For ever separate, yet for ever near!
4051Remembrance and reflection how allied;
4052What thin partitions sense from thought divide:
4053And middle natures, how they long to join,
4054Yet never pass th' insuperable line!
4055Without this just gradation, could they be
4056Subjected, these to those, or all to thee?              
4057The powers of all subdued by thee alone,
4058Is not thy reason all these powers in one?
4059VIII. See, through this air, this ocean, and this earth,
4060All matter quick, and bursting into birth:
4061Above, how high progressive life may go!
4062Around, how wide! how deep extend below!
4063Vast chain of being! which from God began,
4064Natures ethereal, human, angel, man,
4065Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see,
4066No glass can reach; from Infinite to Thee,              
4067From Thee to Nothing.On superior powers
4068Were we to press, inferior might on ours:
4069Or in the full creation leave a void,
4070Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroy'd:
4071From Nature's chain whatever link you strike,
4072Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
4073And, if each system in gradation roll
4074Alike essential to th' amazing whole,
4075The least confusion but in one, not all
4076That system only, but the whole must fall.              
4077Let earth, unbalanced, from her orbit fly,
4078Planets and suns run lawless through the sky;
4079Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurl'd,
4080Being on being wreck'd, and world on world;
4081Heaven's whole foundations to their centre nod,
4082And Nature trembles to the throne of God.
4083All this dread order breakfor whom? for thee?
4084Vile worm!oh madness! pride! impiety!
4085IX. What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,
4086Or hand, to toil, aspired to be the head                
4087What if the head, the eye, or ear repined
4088To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
4089Just as absurd for any part to claim
4090To be another, in this general frame;
4091Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,
4092The great directing Mind of All ordains.
4093All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
4094Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
4095That, changed through all, and yet in all the same;
4096Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame:           
4097Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
4098Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
4099Lives through all life, extends through all extent.
4100Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
4101Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
4102As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
4103As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
4104As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns:
4105To Him no high, no low, no great, no small;
4106He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all.
4107Cease then, nor Order imperfection name:
4108Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
4109Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree
4110Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
4111Submitin this, or any other sphere,
4112Secure to be as bless'd as thou canst bear:
4113Safe in the hand of one disposing Power,
4114Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
4115All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
4116All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;        
4117All discord, harmony not understood;
4118All partial evil, universal good:
4119And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
4120One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.
4121Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
4122The proper study of mankind is Man.
4123Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
4124A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
4125With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
4126With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
4127He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
4128In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast;
4129In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
4130Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;               
4131Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
4132Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
4133Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
4134Still by himself abused, or disabused;
4135Created half to rise, and half to fall;
4136Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
4137Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd:
4138The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
4139Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides,
4140Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;       
4141Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
4142Correct old Time, and regulate the sun;
4143Go, soar with Plato to the empyreal sphere,
4144To the first Good, first Perfect, and first Fair;
4145Or tread the mazy round his followers trod,
4146And quitting sense call imitating God;
4147As eastern priests in giddy circles run,
4148And turn their heads to imitate the sun.
4149Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule
4150Then drop into thyself, and be a fool! 
4151Superior beings, when of late they saw
4152A mortal man unfold all Nature's law,
4153Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape,
4154And show'd a Newton as we show an ape.
4155Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,
4156Describe or fix one movement of his mind?
4157Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend,
4158Explain his own beginning, or his end?
4159Alas, what wonder! Man's superior part
4160Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to art;           
4161But when his own great work is but begun,
4162What reason weaves, by passion is undone.
4163Trace Science, then, with modesty thy guide;
4164First strip off all her equipage of pride;
4165Deduct what is but vanity, or dress,
4166Or learning's luxury, or idleness;
4167Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain.
4168Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain;
4169Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts
4170Of all our vices have created arts;                      
4171Then see how little the remaining sum,
4172Which served the past, and must the times to come!
4173Two principles in human nature reign
4174Self-love, to urge, and reason, to restrain;
4175Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call,
4176Each works its end, to move or govern all:
4177And to their proper operation still,
4178Ascribe all good; to their improper, ill.
4179Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul;
4180Reason's comparing balance rules the whole.              
4181Man, but for that, no action could attend,
4182And, but for this, were active to no end:
4183Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot,
4184To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot;
4185Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void,
4186Destroying others, by himself destroy'd.
4187Most strength the moving principle requires;
4188Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires.
4189Sedate and quiet the comparing lies,
4190Form'd but to check, deliberate, and advise.             
4191Self-love, still stronger, as its objects nigh;
4192Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie:
4193That sees immediate good by present sense;
4194Reason, the future and the consequence.
4195Thicker than arguments, temptations throng,
4196At best more watchful this, but that more strong.
4197The action of the stronger to suspend
4198Reason still use, to reason still attend.
4199Attention, habit and experience gains;
4200Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains.        
4201Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight,
4202More studious to divide than to unite;
4203And grace and virtue, sense and reason split,
4204With all the rash dexterity of wit.
4205Wits, just like fools, at war about a name,
4206Have full as oft no meaning, or the same.
4207Self-love and reason to one end aspire,
4208Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire;
4209But greedy that its object would devour,
4210This taste the honey, and not wound the flower:          
4211Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood,
4212Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.
4213Modes of self-love the passions we may call:
4214Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all:
4215But since not every good we can divide,
4216And reason bids us for our own provide;
4217Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair,
4218List under reason, and deserve her care;
4219Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim,
4220Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name.          
4221In lazy apathy let Stoics boast
4222Their virtue fix'd; tis fix'd as in a frost;
4223Contracted all, retiring to the breast;
4224But strength of mind is exercise, not rest:
4225The rising tempest puts in act the soul,
4226Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole.
4227On life's vast ocean diversely we sail,
4228Reason the card, but passion is the gale;
4229Nor God alone in the still calm we find,
4230He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.           
4231Passions, like elements, though born to fight,
4232Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite:
4233These tis enough to temper and employ;
4234But what composes Man, can Man destroy?
4235Suffice that reason keep to Nature's road;
4236Subject, compound them, follow her and God.
4237Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train,
4238Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain,
4239These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confined,
4240Make and maintain the balance of the mind:              
4241The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife
4242Gives all the strength and colour of our life.
4243Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes;
4244And when, in act, they cease, in prospect, rise:
4245Present to grasp, and future still to find,
4246The whole employ of body and of mind.
4247All spread their charms, but charm not all alike;
4248On different senses different objects strike;
4249Hence different passions more or less inflame,
4250As strong or weak, the organs of the frame;             
4251And hence one master passion in the breast,
4252Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
4253As Man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
4254Receives the lurking principle of death;
4255The young disease, that must subdue at length,
4256Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength:
4257So, cast and mingled with his very frame,
4258The mind's disease, its ruling passion came;
4259Each vital humour which should feed the whole,
4260Soon flows to this, in body and in soul:                
4261Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
4262As the mind opens, and its functions spread,
4263Imagination plies her dangerous art,
4264And pours it all upon the peccant part.
4265Nature its mother, habit is its nurse;
4266Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse;
4267Reason itself but gives it edge and power;
4268As Heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour.
4269We, wretched subjects, though to lawful sway,
4270In this weak queen, some favourite still obey:          
4271Ah! if she lend not arms, as well as rules,
4272What can she more than tell us we are fools?
4273Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
4274A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend!
4275Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade
4276The choice we make, or justify it made;
4277Proud of an easy conquest all along,
4278She but removes weak passions for the strong:
4279So, when small humours gather to a gout,
4280The doctor fancies he has driven them out.              
4281Yes, Nature's road must ever be preferr'd;
4282Reason is here no guide, but still a guard:
4283Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow,
4284And treat this passion more as friend than foe:
4285A mightier power the strong direction sends,
4286And several men impels to several ends:
4287Like varying winds, by other passions tost,
4288This drives them constant to a certain coast.
4289Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please,
4290Or oft more strong than all the love of ease;         
4291Through life tis follow'd, even at life's expense;
4292The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence,
4293The monk's humility, the hero's pride,
4294All, all alike, find reason on their side.
4295Th' eternal Art educing good from ill,
4296Grafts on this passion our best principle:
4297Tis thus the mercury of Man is fix'd,
4298Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd;
4299The dross cements what else were too refined
4300And in one interest body acts with mind.                
4301As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care,
4302On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear;
4303The surest virtues thus from passions shoot,
4304Wild nature's vigour working at the root.
4305What crops of wit and honesty appear
4306From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear!
4307See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
4308Even avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy;
4309Lust, through some certain strainers well refined,
4310Is gentle love, and charms all womankind;               
4311Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave,
4312Is emulation in the learn'd or brave;
4313Nor virtue, male or female, can we name,
4314But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame.
4315Thus Nature gives us let it check our pride
4316The virtue nearest to our vice allied:
4317Reason the bias turns to good from ill,
4318And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will.
4319The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline,
4320In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine:                 
4321The same ambition can destroy or save,
4322And makes a patriot, as it makes a knave.
4323This light and darkness in our chaos join'd
4324What shall divide? the God within the mind.
4325Extremes in Nature equal ends produce,
4326In man they join to some mysterious use;
4327Though each by turns the other's bound invade,
4328As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade,
4329And oft so mix, the difference is too nice
4330Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.              
4331Fools! who from hence into the notion fall,
4332That vice or virtue there is none at all.
4333If white and black blend, soften, and unite
4334A thousand ways, is there no black or white?
4335Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain;
4336Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.
4337V. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
4338As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
4339Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
4340We first endure, then pity, then embrace.               
4341But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed:
4342Ask where's the north? at York, tis on the Tweed;
4343In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,
4344At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
4345No creature owns it in the first degree,
4346But thinks his neighbour further gone than he;
4347Even those who dwell beneath its very zone,
4348Or never feel the rage, or never own;
4349What happier natures shrink at with affright,
4350The hard inhabitant contends is right.                  
4351Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
4352Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree;
4353The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise;
4354And even the best, by fits, what they despise.
4355Tis but by parts we follow good or ill;
4356For, vice or virtue, self directs it still;
4357Each individual seeks a several goal;
4358But Heaven's great view is one, and that the whole.
4359That counterworks each folly and caprice;
4360That disappoints th' effect of every vice;              
4361That, happy frailties to all ranks applied;
4362Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride,
4363Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief,
4364To kings presumption, and to crowds belief:
4365That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise,
4366Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise;
4367And build on wants, and on defects of mind,
4368The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.
4369Heaven forming each on other to depend,
4370A master, or a servant, or a friend,                    
4371Bids each on other for assistance call,
4372Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all.
4373Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally
4374The common interest, or endear the tie.
4375To these we owe true friendship, love sincere,
4376Each home-felt joy that life inherits here;
4377Yet from the same we learn, in its decline,
4378Those joys, those loves, those interests to resign;
4379Taught half by reason, half by mere decay,
4380To welcome death, and calmly pass away.                 
4381Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
4382Not one will change his neighbour with himself.
4383The learn'd is happy Nature to explore;
4384The fool is happy that he knows no more;
4385The rich is happy in the plenty given,
4386The poor contents him with the care of Heaven.
4387See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
4388The sot a hero, lunatic a king;
4389The starving chemist in his golden views
4390Supremely bless'd, the poet in his Muse.                
4391See some strange comfort every state attend,
4392And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend;
4393See some fit passion every age supply,
4394Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
4395Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
4396Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw:
4397Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
4398A little louder, but as empty quite:
4399Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
4400And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:         
4401Pleased with this bauble still, as that before;
4402Till, tired, he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
4403Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays
4404Those painted clouds that beautify our days;
4405Each want of happiness by hope supplied,
4406And each vacuity of sense by pride:
4407These build as fast as knowledge can destroy;
4408In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy;
4409One prospect lost, another still we gain;
4410And not a vanity is given in vain;                      
4411Even mean self-love becomes, by force divine,
4412The scale to measure others' wants by thine.
4413See! and confess, one comfort still must rise,
4414Tis this, Though Man's a fool, yet God is wise.
4415Here then we rest: The Universal Cause
4416Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.
4417In all the madness of superfluous health,
4418The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth,
4419Let this great truth be present night and day;
4420But most be present, if we preach or pray.
4421Look round our world; behold the chain of love
4422Combining all below and all above.
4423See plastic Nature working to this end,
4424The single atoms each to other tend,                     
4425Attract, attracted to, the next in place
4426Form'd and impell'd its neighbour to embrace.
4427See matter next, with various life endued,
4428Press to one centre still, the general Good.
4429See dying vegetables life sustain,
4430See life dissolving vegetate again:
4431All forms that perish other forms supply,
4432By turns we catch the vital breath, and die
4433Like bubbles on the sea of Matter born,
4434They rise, they break, and to that sea return.           
4435Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole;
4436One all-extending, all-preserving Soul
4437Connects each being, greatest with the least;
4438Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast;
4439All served, all serving: nothing stands alone;
4440The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown.
4441Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for thy good,
4442Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
4443Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
4444For him as kindly spread the flowery lawn:               
4445Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings?
4446Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings.
4447Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat?
4448Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note.
4449The bounding steed you pompously bestride,
4450Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride.
4451Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain?
4452The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain.
4453Thine the full harvest of the golden year?
4454Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer:              
4455The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call,
4456Lives on the labours of this lord of all.
4457Know, Nature's children all divide her care;
4458The fur that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear.
4459While Man exclaims, See all things for my use!
4460See man for mine!' replies a pamper'd goose:
4461And just as short of reason he must fall,
4462Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.
4463Grant that the powerful still the weak control;
4464Be Man the wit and tyrant of the whole:                  
4465Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows,
4466And helps, another creature's wants and woes.
4467Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
4468Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
4469Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings?
4470Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?
4471Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods,
4472To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods;
4473For some his interest prompts him to provide,
4474For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride:           
4475All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy
4476Th' extensive blessing of his luxury.
4477That very life his learned hunger craves,
4478He saves from famine, from the savage saves;
4479Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast.
4480And, till he ends the being, makes it blest;
4481Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain,
4482Than favour'd Man by touch ethereal slain.
4483The creature had his feast of life before;
4484Thou too must perish, when thy feast is o'er!            
4485To each unthinking being, Heaven, a friend,
4486Gives not the useless knowledge of its end:
4487To Man imparts it; but with such a view
4488As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too:
4489The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear,
4490Death still draws nearer, never seeming near.
4491Great standing miracle! that Heaven assign'd
4492Its only thinking thing this turn of mind.
4493Whether with reason or with instinct blest,
4494Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best;        
4495To bliss alike by that direction tend,
4496And find the means proportion'd to their end.
4497Say, where full instinct is th' unerring guide,
4498What pope or council can they need beside?
4499Reason, however able, cool at best,
4500Cares not for service, or but serves when press'd,
4501Stays till we call, and then not often near;
4502But honest instinct comes a volunteer,
4503Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit;
4504While still too wide or short is human wit;              
4505Sure by quick nature happiness to gain,
4506Which heavier reason labours at in vain.
4507This, too serves always, reason never long;
4508One must go right, the other may go wrong.
4509See then the acting and comparing powers
4510One in their nature, which are two in ours;
4511And reason raise o'er instinct as you can,
4512In this tis God directs, in that tis Man.
4513Who taught the nations of the field and wood
4514To shun their poison, and to choose their food?         
4515Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand,
4516Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand?
4517Who made the spider parallels design,
4518Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line?
4519Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore
4520Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before?
4521Who calls the council, states the certain day,
4522Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?
4523 God, in the nature of each being, founds
4524Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds:           
4525But as he framed a whole, the whole to bless,
4526On mutual wants built mutual happiness:
4527So from the first, eternal Order ran,
4528And creature link'd to creature, man to man.
4529Whate'er of life all-quickening ether keeps,
4530Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps,
4531Or pours profuse on earth, one nature feeds
4532The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds.
4533Not Man alone, but all that roam the wood,
4534Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood,               
4535Each loves itself, but not itself alone,
4536Each sex desires alike, till two are one.
4537Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce embrace;
4538They love themselves, a third time, in their race.
4539Thus beast and bird their common charge attend,
4540The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend;
4541The young dismiss'd to wander earth or air,
4542There stops the instinct, and there ends the care;
4543The link dissolves, each seeks a fresh embrace,
4544Another love succeeds, another race.                    
4545A longer care Man's helpless kind demands;
4546That longer care contracts more lasting bands:
4547Reflection, reason, still the ties improve,
4548At once extend the interest, and the love;
4549With choice we fix, with sympathy we burn;
4550Each virtue in each passion takes its turn;
4551And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise,
4552That graft benevolence on charities.
4553Still as one brood, and as another rose,
4554These natural love maintain'd, habitual those:          
4555The last, scarce ripen'd into perfect man,
4556Saw helpless him from whom their life began:
4557Memory and forecast just returns engage,
4558That pointed back to youth, this on to age;
4559While pleasure, gratitude, and hope, combined,
4560Still spread the interest, and preserved the kind.
4561Nor think, in Nature's state they blindly trod;
4562The state of Nature was the reign of God:
4563Self-love and social at her birth began,
4564Union the bond of all things, and of Man.               
4565Pride then was not; nor arts, that pride to aid;
4566Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the shade;
4567The same his table, and the same his bed;
4568No murder clothed him, and no murder fed.
4569In the same temple, the resounding wood,
4570All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God:
4571The shrine with gore unstain'd, with gold undress'd,
4572Unbribed, unbloody, stood the blameless priest:
4573Heaven's attribute was universal care,
4574And Man's prerogative to rule, but spare.               
4575Ah! how unlike the Man of times to come!
4576Of half that live the butcher and the tomb;
4577Who, foe to Nature, hears the general groan,
4578Murders their species, and betrays his own.
4579But just disease to luxury succeeds,
4580And every death its own avenger breeds;
4581The fury-passions from that blood began,
4582And turn'd on Man, a fiercer savage, Man.
4583See him from Nature rising slow to Art!
4584To copy instinct then was reason's part;                
4585Thus then to Man the voice of Nature spake
4586Go, from the creatures thy instructions take:
4587Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield;
4588Learn from the beasts the physic of the field;
4589Thy arts of building from the bee receive;
4590Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave;
4591Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
4592Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
4593Here, too, all forms of social union find,
4594And hence let reason, late, instruct mankind:           
4595Here subterranean works and cities see;
4596There towns arial on the waving tree.
4597Learn each small people's genius, policies,
4598The ants' republic, and the realm of bees;
4599How those in common all their wealth bestow,
4600And anarchy without confusion know;
4601And these for ever, though a monarch reign,
4602Their separate cells and properties maintain.
4603Mark what unvaried laws preserve each state,
4604Laws wise as Nature, and as fix'd as Fate.              
4605In vain thy reason finer webs shall draw,
4606Entangle Justice in her net of lay,
4607And right, too rigid, harden into wrong;
4608Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong.
4609Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures sway,
4610Thus let the wiser make the rest obey;
4611And for those arts mere instinct could afford,
4612Be crown'd as monarchs, or as gods adored.
4613Great Nature spoke; observant men obey'd;
4614Cities were built, societies were made:                 
4615Here rose one little state; another near
4616Grew by like means, and join'd, through love or fear.
4617Did here the trees with ruddier burdens bend,
4618And there the streams in purer rills descend?
4619What war could ravish, commerce could bestow;
4620And he return'd a friend, who came a foe.
4621Converse and love mankind might strongly draw,
4622When love was liberty, and Nature law.
4623Thus states were form'd, the name of king unknown,
4624Till common interest placed the sway in one.            
4625Twas virtue only or in arts or arms,
4626Diffusing blessings or averting harms,
4627The same which in a sire the sons obey'd,
4628A prince the father of a people made.
4629Till then, by Nature crown'd, each patriarch sat,
4630King, priest, and parent of his growing state;
4631On him, their second Providence, they hung,
4632Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue.
4633He from the wondering furrow call'd the food,
4634Taught to command the fire, control the flood,          
4635Draw forth the monsters of the abyss profound,
4636Or fetch the arial eagle to the ground.
4637Till drooping, sickening, dying they began
4638Whom they revered as god to mourn as man:
4639Then, looking up from sire to sire, explored
4640One great first Father, and that first adored.
4641Or plain tradition that this All begun,
4642Convey'd unbroken faith from sire to son;
4643The worker from the work distinct was known,
4644And simple reason never sought but one:                 
4645Ere wit oblique had broke that steady light,
4646Man, like his Maker, saw that all was right;
4647To virtue, in the paths of pleasure, trod,
4648And own'd a Father when he own'd a God.
4649Love all the faith, and all the allegiance then;
4650For nature knew no right divine in men,
4651No ill could fear in God; and understood
4652A sovereign Being, but a sovereign good.
4653True faith, true policy, united ran,
4654That was but love of God, and this of Man.              
4655Who first taught souls enslaved, and realms undone,
4656The enormous faith of many made for one;
4657That proud exception to all Nature's laws,
4658To invert the world, and counterwork its cause?
4659Force first made conquest, and that conquest, law;
4660Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe,
4661Then shared the tyranny, then lent it aid,
4662And gods of conquerors, slaves of subjects made:
4663She, midst the lightning's blaze, and thunder's sound,
4664When rock'd the mountains, and when groan'd the ground, 
4665She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray,
4666To Power unseen, and mightier far than they:
4667She, from the rending earth and bursting skies,
4668Saw gods descend, and fiends infernal rise:
4669Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blest abodes;
4670Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods;
4671Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust,
4672Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or lust;
4673Such as the souls of cowards might conceive,
4674And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe.        
4675Zeal then, not charity, became the guide;
4676And hell was built on spite, and heaven on pride.
4677Then sacred seem'd the ethereal vault no more;
4678Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore:
4679Then first the Flamen tasted living food;
4680Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood;
4681With Heaven's own thunders shook the world below,
4682And play'd the god an engine on his foe.
4683So drives self-love, through just and through unjust,
4684To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust:              
4685The same self-love, in all, becomes the cause
4686Of what restrains him, government and laws.
4687For, what one likes, if others like as well,
4688What serves one will, when many wills rebel?
4689How shall he keep what, sleeping or awake,
4690A weaker may surprise, a stronger take?
4691His safety must his liberty restrain:
4692All join to guard what each desires to gain.
4693Forced into virtue thus by self-defence,
4694Even kings learn'd justice and benevolence;             
4695Self-love forsook the path it first pursued,
4696And found the private in the public good.
4697Twas then the studious head or generous mind,
4698Follower of God, or friend of human kind,
4699Poet or patriot, rose but to restore
4700The faith and moral Nature gave before;
4701Relumed her ancient light, not kindled new;
4702If not God's image, yet his shadow drew;
4703Taught power's due use to people and to kings,
4704Taught not to slack, nor strain its tender strings,     
4705The less, or greater, set so justly true,
4706That touching one must strike the other too;
4707Till jarring interests of themselves create
4708The according music of a well-mix'd state.
4709Such is the world's great harmony, that springs
4710From order, union, full consent of things:
4711Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made
4712To serve, not suffer; strengthen, not invade;
4713More powerful each as needful to the rest,
4714And in proportion as it blesses, bless'd;               
4715Draw to one point, and to one centre bring
4716Beast, man, or angel, servant, lord, or king.
4717For forms of government let fools contest;
4718Whate'er is best administer'd is best:
4719For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
4720His can't be wrong whose life is in the right:
4721In faith and hope the world will disagree,
4722But all mankind's concern is charity:
4723All must be false that thwart this one great end;
4724And all of God that bless mankind, or mend.             
4725Man, like the generous vine, supported lives;
4726The strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.
4727On their own axis as the planets run,
4728Yet make at once their circle round the sun;
4729So two consistent motions act the soul,
4730And one regards itself, and one the whole.
4731Thus God and Nature link'd the general frame,
4732And bade self-love and social be the same.
4733O Happiness! our being's end and aim!
4734Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! whate'er thy name:
4735That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh,
4736For which we bear to live, or dare to die,
4737Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
4738O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise.
4739Plant of celestial seed! if dropp'd below,
4740Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
4741Fair opening to some court's propitious shine,
4742Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?               
4743Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
4744Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?
4745Where grows?where grows it not? If vain our toil,
4746We ought to blame the culture, not the soil:
4747Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,
4748Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere;
4749Tis never to be bought, but always free,
4750And, fled from monarchs, St John! dwells with thee.
4751Ask of the learn'd the way? the learn'd are blind;
4752This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind;            
4753Some place the bliss in action, some in ease,
4754Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment these;
4755Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain;
4756Some, swell'd to gods, confess even virtue vain;
4757Or, indolent, to each extreme they fall,
4758To trust in every thing, or doubt of all.
4759Who thus define it, say they more or less
4760Than this, that happiness is happiness?
4761Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave;
4762All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;         
4763Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
4764There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
4765And, mourn our various portions as we please,
4766Equal is common sense, and common ease.
4767Remember, Man, The Universal Cause
4768Acts not by partial, but by general laws;
4769And makes what happiness we justly call
4770Subsist, not in the good of one, but all.
4771There's not a blessing individuals find,
4772But some way leans and hearkens to the kind:             
4773No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride,
4774No cavern'd hermit, rests self-satisfied:
4775Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend,
4776Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend:
4777Abstract what others feel, what others think,
4778All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink:
4779Each has his share; and who would more obtain,
4780Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.
4781Order is Heaven's first law; and, this confess'd,
4782Some are, and must be, greater than the rest,            
4783More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence
4784That such are happier, shocks all common sense.
4785Heaven to mankind impartial we confess,
4786If all are equal in their happiness:
4787But mutual wants this happiness increase;
4788All Nature's difference keeps all Nature's peace.
4789Condition, circumstance, is not the thing;
4790Bliss is the same in subject or in king,
4791In who obtain defence, or who defend,
4792In him who is, or him who finds a friend:                
4793Heaven breathes through every member of the whole
4794One common blessing, as one common soul.
4795But Fortune's gifts if each alike possess'd,
4796And each were equal, must not all contest?
4797If then to all Men happiness was meant,
4798God in externals could not place content.
4799Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
4800And these be happy call'd, unhappy those;
4801But Heaven's just balance equal will appear,
4802While those are placed in hope, and these in fear:       
4803Not present good or ill, the joy or curse,
4804But future views of better, or of worse.
4805O sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
4806By mountains piled on mountains, to the skies?
4807Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
4808And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
4809 Know, all the good that individuals find,
4810Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,
4811Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
4812Lie in three wordsHealth, Peace, and Competence,       
4813But health consists with temperance alone;
4814And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thy own.
4815The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain;
4816But these less taste them, as they worse obtain.
4817Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,
4818Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right?
4819Of vice or virtue, whether bless'd or cursed,
4820Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
4821Count all th' advantage prosperous vice attains,
4822Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains:            
4823And grant the bad what happiness they would,
4824One they must want, which is, to pass for good.
4825Oh, blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below,
4826Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe!
4827Who sees and follows that great scheme the best,
4828Best knows the blessing, and will most be bless'd.
4829But fools, the good alone unhappy call,
4830For ills or accidents that chance to all.
4831See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just!
4832See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust!              
4833See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife!
4834Was this their virtue, or contempt of life?
4835Say, was it virtue, more though Heaven ne'er gave,
4836Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave?
4837Tell me, if virtue made the son expire,
4838Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire?
4839Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath,
4840When Nature sicken'd, and each gale was death?
4841Or why so long in life if long can be
4842Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me?                
4843What makes all physical or moral ill?
4844There deviates Nature, and here wanders Will.
4845God sends not ill, if rightly understood;
4846Or partial ill is universal good,
4847Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall;
4848Short, and but rare, till Man improved it all.
4849We just as wisely might of Heaven complain
4850That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain,
4851As that the virtuous son is ill at ease
4852When his lewd father gave the dire disease.
4853But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed.
4854What then? Is the reward of virtue bread?               
4855That, vice may merit, tis the price of toil;
4856The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil,
4857The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main,
4858Where Folly fights for kings, or dives for gain.
4859The good man may be weak, be indolent;
4860Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.
4861But grant him riches, your demand is o'er?
4862Noshall the good want health, the good want power?
4863Add health, and power, and every earthly thing,
4864Why bounded power? why private? why no king?'          
4865Nay, why external for internal given?
4866Why is not man a god, and earth a heaven?
4867Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive
4868God gives enough, while he has more to give:
4869Immense the power, immense were the demand;
4870Say, at what part of nature will they stand?
4871What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
4872The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy,
4873Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix?
4874Then give humility a coach and six,                     
4875Justice a conqueror's sword, or truth a gown,
4876Or public spirit its great cure, a crown.
4877Weak, foolish man! will Heaven reward us there
4878With the same trash mad mortals wish for here?
4879The boy and man an individual makes,
4880Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes?
4881Go, like the Indian, in another life
4882Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife;
4883As well as dream such trifles are assign'd,
4884As toys and empires, for a godlike mind.                
4885Rewards, that either would to virtue bring
4886No joy, or be destructive of the thing;
4887How oft by these at sixty are undone
4888The virtues of a saint at twenty-one!
4889To whom can riches give repute, or trust,
4890Content, or pleasure, but the good and just?
4891Judges and senates have been bought for gold,
4892Esteem and love were never to be sold.
4893O fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,
4894The lover and the love of human kind,                   
4895Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear,
4896Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.
4897Honour and shame from no condition rise;
4898Act well your part; there all the honour lies.
4899Fortune in men has some small difference made
4900One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;
4901The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd,
4902The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
4903What differ more' you cry than crown and cowl?
4904I'll tell you, friend!a wise man and a fool.          
4905You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
4906Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk,
4907Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
4908The rest is all but leather or prunella.
4909Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with strings,
4910That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings,
4911Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race,
4912In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece:
4913But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate,
4914Count me those only who were good and great.            
4915Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood
4916Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood,
4917Go! and pretend your family is young;
4918Nor own, your fathers have been fools so long.
4919What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?
4920Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
4921Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies?
4922Where, but among the heroes and the wise?
4923Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed,
4924From Macedonia's madman to the Swede;                   
4925The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find
4926Or make an enemy of all mankind!
4927Not one looks backward, onward still he goes,
4928Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose.
4929No less alike the politic and wise;
4930All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes:
4931Men in their loose unguarded hours they take,
4932Not that themselves are wise, but others weak.
4933But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat;
4934Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great:             
4935Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,
4936Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
4937Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
4938Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
4939Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
4940Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.
4941What's fame? A fancied life in others' breath,
4942A thing beyond us, even before our death.
4943Just what you hear, you have; and what's unknown
4944The same my Lord if Tully's, or your own.             
4945All that we feel of it begins and ends
4946In the small circle of our foes or friends;
4947To all beside as much an empty shade
4948An Eugene living, as a Caesar dead;
4949Alike or when, or where, they shone, or shine,
4950Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
4951A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
4952An honest man's the noblest work of God.
4953Fame but from death a villain's name can save,
4954As justice tears his body from the grave,               
4955When what t' oblivion better were resign'd,
4956Is hung on high, to poison half mankind.
4957All fame is foreign, but of true desert;
4958Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
4959One self-approving hour whole years out-weighs
4960Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;
4961And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels,
4962Than Caesar with a senate at his heels.
4963In parts superior what advantage lies?
4964Tell for you can what is it to be wise?               
4965Tis but to know how little can be known;
4966To see all others' faults, and feel our own:
4967Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
4968Without a second, or without a judge 
4969Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
4970All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
4971Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view
4972Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.
4973Bring then these blessings to a strict account;
4974Make fair deductions; see to what they mount:           
4975How much of other each is sure to cost;
4976How each for other oft is wholly lost;
4977How inconsistent greater goods with these;
4978How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease:
4979Think, and if still the things thy envy call,
4980Say, wouldst thou be the man to whom they fall?
4981To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly,
4982Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy:
4983Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
4984Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife:                 
4985If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,
4986The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind:
4987Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
4988See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!
4989If all, united, thy ambition call,
4990From ancient story learn to scorn them all.
4991There, in the rich, the honour'd, famed, and great,
4992See the false scale of happiness complete!
4993In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay,
4994How happy! those to ruin, these betray.                 
4995Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows,
4996From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose;
4997In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,
4998And all that raised the hero, sunk the man:
4999Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
5000But stain'd with blood, or ill exchanged for gold:
5001Then see them broke with toils, or sunk in ease,
5002Or infamous for plunder'd provinces.
5003Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame
5004E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame!         
5005What greater bliss attends their close of life?
5006Some greedy minion, or imperious wife.
5007The trophied arches, storied halls invade,
5008And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade.
5009Alas! not dazzled with their noontide ray,
5010Compute the morn and evening to the day;
5011The whole amount of that enormous fame,
5012A tale that blends their glory with their shame!
5013Know then this truth enough for man to know
5014Virtue alone is happiness below.'                      
5015The only point where human bliss stands still,
5016And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
5017Where only merit constant pay receives,
5018Is bless'd in what it takes, and what it gives;
5019The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain,
5020And if it lose, attended with no pain:
5021Without satiety, though e'er so bless'd,
5022And but more relish'd as the more distress'd:
5023The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears,
5024Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears:             
5025Good, from each object, from each place acquired,
5026For ever exercised, yet never tired;
5027Never elated, while one man's oppress'd;
5028Never dejected, while another's bless'd;
5029And where no wants, no wishes can remain,
5030Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain.
5031See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow!
5032Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:
5033Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
5034The bad must miss; the good, untaught, will find;       
5035Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
5036But looks through Nature up to Nature's God;
5037Pursues that chain which links th' immense design,
5038Joins Heaven and Earth, and mortal and divine;
5039Sees, that no being any bliss can know,
5040But touches some above, and some below;
5041Learns, from this union of the rising whole,
5042The first, last purpose of the human soul;
5043And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,
5044All end, in love of God, and love of Man.               
5045For him alone Hope leads from goal to goal,
5046And opens still, and opens on his soul;
5047Till lengthen'd on to Faith, and unconfined,
5048It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind.
5049He sees why Nature plants in Man alone
5050Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown:
5051Nature, whose dictates to no other kind
5052Are given in vain, but what they seek they find
5053Wise is her present; she connects in this
5054His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss;            
5055At once his own bright prospect to be bless'd,
5056And strongest motive to assist the rest.
5057Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine,
5058Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine.
5059Is this too little for the boundless heart?
5060Extend it, let thy enemies have part;
5061Grasp the whole worlds of Reason, Life, and Sense,
5062In one close system of Benevolence:
5063Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,
5064And height of bliss but height of charity.              
5065God loves from whole to parts: but human soul
5066Must rise from individual to the whole.
5067Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,
5068As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;
5069The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds,
5070Another still, and still another spreads;
5071Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace;
5072His country next; and next all human race;
5073Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
5074Take every creature in, of every kind;                  
5075Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty bless'd,
5076And Heaven beholds its image in his breast.
5077Come then, my friend, my genius! come along;
5078O master of the poet, and the song!
5079And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends,
5080To Man's low passions, or their glorious ends,
5081Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wise,
5082To fall with dignity, with temper rise;
5083Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer
5084From grave to gay, from lively to severe;               
5085Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,
5086Intent to reason, or polite to please.
5087Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name
5088Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
5089Say, shall my little bark attendant sail,
5090Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
5091When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose,
5092Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes,
5093Shall then this verse to future age pretend
5094Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend?            
5095That, urged by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art.
5096From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart;
5097For Wit's false mirror held up Nature's light;
5098Show'd erring pride, Whatever is, is right;
5099That Reason, Passion, answer one great aim;
5100That true Self-love and Social are the same;
5101That Virtue only makes our bliss below;
5102And all our knowledge is, Ourselves to know.
5103Shut, shut the door, good John! fatigued, I said,
5104Tie up the knocker, say I'm sick, I'm dead.
5105The Dog-star rages! nay, tis past a doubt,
5106All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out:
5107Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
5108They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
5109What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide?
5110They pierce my thickets, through my grot they glide,
5111By land, by water, they renew the charge,
5112They stop the chariot, and they board the barge.         
5113No place is sacred, not the church is free,
5114Even Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to me:
5115Then from the Mint walks forth the man of rhyme,
5116Happy! to catch me, just at dinner-time.
5117Is there a parson, much bemused in beer,
5118A maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer,
5119A clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross,
5120Who pens a stanza, when he should engross?
5121Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper, scrawls
5122With desperate charcoal round his darken'd walls?        
5123All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain
5124Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
5125Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws,
5126Imputes to me and my damn'd works the cause:
5127Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope,
5128And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope.
5129Friend to my life! which did not you prolong,
5130The world had wanted many an idle song
5131What drop or nostrum can this plague remove?
5132Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love?            
5133A dire dilemma! either way I'm sped,
5134If foes, they write, if friends, they read me dead.
5135Seized and tied down to judge, how wretched I!
5136Who can't be silent, and who will not lie:
5137To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace,
5138And to be grave, exceeds all power of face.
5139I sit with sad civility, I read
5140With honest anguish, and an aching head;
5141And drop at last, but in unwilling ears,
5142This saving counsel, Keep your piece nine years.'       
5143Nine years!' cries he, who high in Drury-lane,
5144Lull'd by soft zephyrs through the broken pane,
5145Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term ends,
5146Obliged by hunger, and request of friends:
5147The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it,
5148I'm all submission, what you'd have it, make it.
5149Three things another's modest wishes bound,
5150My friendship, and a prologue, and ten pound.
5151Pitholeon sends to me: You know his Grace,
5152I want a patron; ask him for a place.'                   
5153Pitholeon libell'd me'But here's a letter
5154Informs you, sir, twas when he knew no better.
5155Dare you refuse him? Curll invites to dine,
5156He'll write a journal, or he'll turn divine.
5157Bless me! a packet.''Tis a stranger sues,
5158A virgin tragedy, an orphan Muse.
5159If I dislike it, Furies, death, and rage!
5160If I approve, Commend it to the stage.
5161There thank my stars my whole commission ends,
5162The players and I are, luckily, no friends.              
5163Fired that the house reject him, 'Sdeath! I'll print it,
5164And shame the foolsYour interest, sir, with Lintot.
5165Lintot, dull rogue! will think your price too much:
5166Not, sir, if you revise it, and retouch.
5167All my demurs but double his attacks;
5168At last he whispers, Do; and we go snacks.
5169Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door:
5170Sir, let me see your works and you no more.
5171Tis sung, when Midas' ears began to spring
5172Midas, a sacred person and a king,                     
5173His very minister who spied them first,
5174Some say his queen was forced to speak, or burst.
5175And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case,
5176When every coxcomb perks them in my face?
5177Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are right,
5178It is the slaver kills, and not the bite.
5179A fool quite angry is quite innocent:
5180Alas! tis ten times worse when they repent.
5181One dedicates in high heroic prose,
5182And ridicules beyond a hundred foes:                    
5183One from all Grub-street will my fame defend,
5184And, more abusive, calls himself my friend.
5185This prints my letters, that expects a bribe,
5186And others roar aloud, Subscribe, subscribe!
5187Did some more sober critic come abroad
5188If wrong, I smiled; if right, I kiss'd the rod.
5189Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence,
5190And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.          
5191Commas and points they set exactly right,
5192And twere a sin to rob them of their mite.
5193Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds,
5194From slashing Bentley down to piddling Tibbalds:
5195Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells,
5196Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables,
5197Even such small critics some regard may claim,
5198Preserved in Milton's or in Shakspeare's name.
5199Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
5200Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!       
5201The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
5202But wonder how the devil they got there.
5203Were others angryI excused them too;
5204Well might they rage, I gave them but their due.
5205A man's true merit tis not hard to find;
5206But each man's secret standard in his mind,
5207That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness,
5208This, who can gratify for who can guess?
5209The bard whom pilfer'd Pastorals renown,
5210Who turns a Persian tale for half-a-crown,           
5211Just writes to make his barrenness appear,
5212And strains from hard-bound brains eight lines a year;
5213He who, still wanting, though he lives on theft,
5214Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left:
5215And he who, now to sense, now nonsense leaning,
5216Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:
5217And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad,
5218It is not poetry, but prose run mad:
5219Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires
5220True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;
5221Blest with each talent and each art to please,
5222And born to write, converse, and live with ease:
5223Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,
5224Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,
5225View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,
5226And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;          
5227Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
5228And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
5229Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
5230Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
5231Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
5232A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
5233Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged,
5234And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged;
5235Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
5236And sit attentive to his own applause;                  
5237While wits and Templars every sentence raise,
5238And wonder with a foolish face of praise
5239Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
5240Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
5241Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers' load,
5242On wings of winds came flying all abroad?
5243I sought no homage from the race that write;
5244I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight:          
5245Poems I heeded now be-rhymed so long
5246No more than thou, great George! a birthday song.
5247I ne'er with wits or witlings pass'd my days,
5248To spread about the itch of verse and praise;
5249Nor like a puppy, daggled through the town,
5250To fetch and carry sing-song up and down;
5251Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouth'd, and cried,
5252With handkerchief and orange at my side;
5253Oh let me live my own, and die so too!
5254To live and die is all I have to do:
5255Maintain a poet's dignity and ease,
5256And see what friends, and read what books I please:
5257Above a patron, though I condescend
5258Sometimes to call a minister my friend.
5259I was not born for courts or great affairs;
5260I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers;
5261Can sleep without a poem in my head,
5262Nor know if god be alive or dead.   
5263Cursed be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,
5264That tends to make one worthy man my foe,
5265Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear,
5266Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear!
5267But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace,
5268Insults fallen worth, or beauty in distress,
5269Who loves a lie, lame slander helps about,
5270Who writes a libel, or who copies out:                  
5271That fop, whose pride affects a patron's name,
5272Yet, absent, wounds an author's honest fame:
5273Who can your merit selfishly approve,
5274And show the sense of it without the love;
5275Who has the vanity to call you friend,
5276Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend;
5277Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say,
5278And, if he lie not, must at least betray:
5279Who to the dean, and silver bell can swear,
5280And sees at Canons what was never there;                
5281Who reads, butwith a lust to misapply,
5282Make satire a lampoon, and fiction, lie;
5283A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,
5284But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.
5285This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;     
5286Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,
5287Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys;
5288So well-bred spaniels civilly delight
5289In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.
5290Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,
5291As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
5292Whether in florid impotence he speaks,
5293And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks;
5294Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad!
5295Half-froth, half-venom, spits himself abroad,           
5296In puns or politics, or tales, or lies,
5297Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.
5298His wit all see-saw, between that and this,
5299Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,
5300And he himself one vile antithesis.
5301Amphibious thing! that, acting either part,
5302The trifling head, or the corrupted heart,
5303Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board,
5304Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
5305Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have express'd,          
5306A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest,
5307Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust,
5308Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
5309Not Fortune's worshipper, nor Fashion's fool,
5310Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool,
5311Not proud, nor servile; be one poet's praise,
5312That, if he pleased, he pleased by manly ways:
5313That flattery, even to kings, he held a shame,
5314And thought a lie in verse or prose the same.
5315That not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long,              
5316But stoop'd to Truth, and moralised his song:
5317That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end,
5318He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,
5319The damning critic, half-approving wit,
5320The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;
5321Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had,
5322The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad;
5323The distant threats of vengeance on his head,
5324The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;
5325O friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
5326Be no unpleasing melancholy mine:
5327Me, let the tender office long engage,
5328To rock the cradle of reposing age,
5329With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,             
5330Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death,
5331Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
5332And keep a while one parent from the sky!
5333On cares like these if length of days attend,
5334May Heaven, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
5335Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,
5336And just as rich as when he served a Queen.
5337Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
5338To run a-muck, and tilt at all I meet;                   
5339I only wear it in a land of hectors,
5340Thieves, supercargoes, sharpers, and directors.
5341Save but our army! and let Jove incrust
5342Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting rust!
5343Peace is my dear delightnot Fleury's more:
5344But touch me, and no minister so sore.
5345Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
5346Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
5347Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
5348And the sad burthen of some merry song.                  
5349Envy must own, I live among the great,
5350No pimp of pleasure, and no spy of state,
5351With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er repeats,
5352Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heats;
5353To help who want, to forward who excel;
5354This, all who know me, know; who love me, tell;
5355And who unknown defame me, let them be
5356Scribblers or peers, alike are mob to me.               
5357This is my plea, on this I rest my cause
5358What saith my counsel, learned in the laws?
5359What, and how great, the virtue and the art
5360To live on little with a cheerful heart;
5361A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine
5362Let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine;
5363Not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride
5364Turns you from sound philosophy aside;
5365Not when from plate to plate your eyeballs roll,
5366And the brain dances to the mantling bowl.
5367Hear Bethel's sermon, one not versed in schools,
5368But strong in sense, and wise without the rules.         
5369Go, work, hunt, exercise! he thus began
5370Then scorn a homely dinner, if you can.
5371Your wine lock'd up, your butler stroll'd abroad,
5372Or fish denied the river yet unthaw'd,
5373If then plain bread and milk will do the feat,
5374The pleasure lies in you, and not the meat.
5375Preach as I please, I doubt our curious men
5376Will choose a pheasant still before a hen;
5377Yet hens of Guinea full as good I hold,
5378Except you eat the feathers green and gold.              
5379Of carps and mullets why prefer the great,
5380Though cut in pieces ere my lord can eat
5381Yet for small turbots such esteem profess?
5382Because God made these large, the other less.
5383Oldfield, with more than harpy throat endued,
5384Cries, Send me, gods! a whole hog barbecued!
5385Oh, blast it, south-winds! till a stench exhale
5386Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail.
5387By what criterion do ye eat, d' ye think,
5388If this is prized for sweetness, that for stink?         
5389When the tired glutton labours through a treat,
5390He finds no relish in the sweetest meat,
5391He calls for something bitter, something sour,
5392And the rich feast concludes extremely poor:
5393Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives still we see;
5394Thus much is left of old simplicity!
5395The robin redbreast till of late had rest,
5396And children sacred held a martin's nest,
5397Till beccaficos sold so devilish dear
5398To one that was, or would have been, a peer.             
5399Let me extol a cat, on oysters fed,
5400I'll have a party at the Bedford-head;
5401Or even to crack live crawfish recommend;
5402I'd never doubt at court to make a friend.
5403Tis yet in vain, I own, to keep a pother
5404About one vice, and fall into the other:
5405Between excess and famine lies a mean;
5406Plain, but not sordid; though not splendid, clean.
5407Avidien, or his wife no matter which,
5408For him you'll call a dog, and her a bitch              
5409Sell their presented partridges, and fruits,
5410And humbly live on rabbits and on roots:
5411One half-pint bottle serves them both to dine,
5412And is at once their vinegar and wine.
5413But on some lucky day as when they found
5414A lost bank-bill, or heard their son was drown'd
5415At such a feast, old vinegar to spare,
5416Is what two souls so generous cannot bear:
5417Oil, though it stink, they drop by drop impart,          
5418But souse the cabbage with a bounteous heart.
5419He knows to live, who keeps the middle state,
5420And neither leans on this side, nor on that;
5421Nor stops, for one bad cork, his butler's pay;
5422Swears, like Albutius, a good cook away;
5423Nor lets, like Naevius, every error pass,
5424The musty wine, foul cloth, or greasy glass.
5425Now hear what blessings temperance can bring:
5426Thus said our friend, and what he said I sing
5427First health: the stomach cramm'd from every dish,      
5428A tomb of boil'd and roast, and flesh and fish,
5429Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and acid jar,
5430And all the man is one intestine war
5431Remembers oft the school-boy's simple fare,
5432The temperate sleeps, and spirits light as air.
5433How pale each worshipful and reverend guest
5434Rise from a clergy or a city feast!
5435What life in all that ample body, say?
5436What heavenly particle inspires the clay?
5437The soul subsides, and wickedly inclines                 
5438To seem but mortal, even in sound divines.
5439On morning wings how active springs the mind
5440That leaves the load of yesterday behind!
5441How easy every labour it pursues!
5442How coming to the poet every Muse!
5443Not but we may exceed some holy time,
5444Or tired in search of truth, or search of rhyme;
5445Ill health some just indulgence may engage,
5446And more the sickness of long life, old age;
5447For fainting age what cordial drop remains,              
5448If our intemperate youth the vessel drains?
5449Our fathers praised rank ven'son. You suppose,
5450Perhaps, young men! our fathers had no nose.
5451Not so: a buck was then a week's repast,
5452And twas their point, I ween, to make it last;
5453More pleased to keep it till their friends could come,
5454Than eat the sweetest by themselves at home.
5455Why had not I in those good times my birth,
5456Ere coxcomb-pies or coxcombs were on earth?
5457Unworthy he, the voice of fame to hear                
5458That sweetest music to an honest ear
5459For, faith! Lord Fanny, you are in the wrong,
5460The world's good word is better than a song,
5461Who has not learn'd, fresh sturgeon and ham-pie
5462Are no rewards for want, and infamy!
5463When luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf,
5464Cursed by thy neighbours, thy trustees, thyself,
5465To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame,
5466Think how posterity will treat thy name;
5467And buy a rope, that future times may tell              
5468Thou hast at least bestow'd one penny well.
5469Right,' cries his lordship, for a rogue in need
5470To have a taste is insolence indeed:
5471In me tis noble, suits my birth and state,
5472My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great.
5473Then, like the sun, let bounty spread her ray,
5474And shine that superfluity away.
5475Oh, impudence of wealth! with all thy store,
5476How dar'st thou let one worthy man be poor?
5477Shall half the new-built churches round thee fall?      
5478Make quays, build bridges, or repair Whitehall:
5479Or to thy country let that heap be lent,
5480As Marlbro's was, but not at five per cent.
5481Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind,
5482Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind.
5483And who stands safest? tell me, is it he
5484That spreads and swells in puff'd prosperity,
5485Or, blest with little, whose preventing care
5486In peace provides fit arms against a war?
5487Thus Bethel spoke, who always speaks his thought,       
5488And always thinks the very thing he ought:
5489His equal mind I copy what I can,
5490And as I love, would imitate the man.
5491In South-sea days not happier, when surmised
5492The lord of thousands, than if now excised;
5493In forest planted by a father's hand,
5494Than in five acres now of rented land.
5495Content with little, I can piddle here
5496On broccoli and mutton, round the year;
5497But ancient friends though poor, or out of play       
5498That touch my bell, I cannot turn away.
5499Tis true, no turbots dignify my boards,
5500But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames affords:
5501To Hounslow Heath I point, and Bansted Down,
5502Thence comes your mutton, and these chicks my own:
5503From yon old walnut-tree a shower shall fall;
5504And grapes, long lingering on my only wall,
5505And figs from standard and espalier join;
5506The devil is in you if you cannot dine:
5507Then cheerful healths your mistress shall have place  
5508And, what's more rare, a poet shall say grace.
5509Fortune not much of humbling me can boast;
5510Though double tax'd, how little have I lost?
5511My life's amusements have been just the same,
5512Before and after standing armies came.
5513My lands are sold, my father's house is gone;
5514I'll hire another's; is not that my own,
5515And yours, my friends? through whose free-opening gate
5516None comes too early, none departs too late;
5517For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best,            
5518Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
5519Pray Heaven it last!' cries Swift as you go on;
5520I wish to God this house had been your own:
5521Pity to build, without a son or wife:
5522Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life.
5523Well, if the use be mine, can it concern one,
5524Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?
5525What's property, dear Swift? You see it alter
5526From you to me, from me to Peter Walter;
5527Or, in a mortgage, prove a lawyer's share;              
5528Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir;
5529Or in pure equity the case not clear
5530The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year:
5531At best, it falls to some ungracious son,
5532Who cries, My father's damn'd, and all's my own.
5533Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford,
5534Become the portion of a booby lord;
5535And Helmsley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
5536Slides to a scrivener or a city knight.
5537Let lands and houses have what lords they will,         
5538Let us be fix'd, and our own masters still.
5539St John, whose love indulged my labours past,
5540Matures my present, and shall bound my last!
5541Why will you break the Sabbath of my days?
5542Now sick alike of envy and of praise.
5543Public too long, ah, let me hide my age!
5544See, modest Cibber now has left the stage:
5545Our generals now, retired to their estates,
5546Hang their old trophies o'er the garden gates,
5547In life's cool evening satiate of applause,
5548Nor fond of bleeding, even in Brunswick's cause.         
5549A voice there is, that whispers in my ear,
5550Tis reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear
5551Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Muse take breath,
5552And never gallop Pegasus to death;
5553Lest, still and stately, void of fire or force,
5554You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's horse.
5555Farewell, then, verse, and love, and every toy,
5556The rhymes and rattles of the man or boy;
5557What right, what true, what fit we justly call,
5558Let this be all my carefor this is all:                
5559To lay this harvest up, and hoard with haste
5560What every day will want, and most, the last.
5561But ask not, to what doctors I apply;
5562Sworn to no master, of no sect am I:
5563As drives the storm, at any door I knock:
5564And house with Montaigne now, or now with Locke.
5565Sometimes a patriot, active in debate,
5566Mix with the world, and battle for the state,
5567Free as young Lyttelton, her cause pursue,
5568Still true to virtue, and as warm as true:               
5569Sometimes with Aristippus, or St Paul,
5570Indulge my candour, and grow all to all;
5571Back to my native moderation slide,
5572And win my way by yielding to the tide.
5573Long, as to him who works for debt, the day,
5574Long as the night to her whose love's away,
5575Long as the year's dull circle seems to run,
5576When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one:
5577So slow the unprofitable moments roll,
5578That lock up all the functions of my soul;               
5579That keep me from myself; and still delay
5580Life's instant business to a future day:
5581That task, which, as we follow, or despise,
5582The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise.
5583Which done, the poorest can no wants endure;
5584And which, not done, the richest must be poor.
5585Late as it is, I put myself to school,
5586And feel some comfort not to be a fool.
5587Weak though I am of limb, and short of sight,
5588Far from a lynx, and not a giant quite;                  
5589I'll do what Mead and Cheselden advise,
5590To keep these limbs, and to preserve these eyes.
5591Not to go back, is somewhat to advance,
5592And men must walk at least before they dance.
5593Say, does thy blood rebel, thy bosom move
5594With wretched avarice, or as wretched love?
5595Know, there are words and spells which can control
5596Between the fits this fever of the soul:
5597Know, there are rhymes, which, fresh and fresh applied,
5598Will cure the arrant'st puppy of his pride.              
5599Be furious, envious, slothful, mad, or drunk,
5600Slave to a wife, or vassal to a punk,
5601A Switz, a High-Dutch, or a Low-Dutch bear;
5602All that we ask is but a patient ear.
5603Tis the first virtue, vices to abhor:
5604And the first wisdom, to be fool no more.
5605But to the world no bugbear is so great,
5606As want of figure, and a small estate.
5607To either India see the merchant fly,
5608Scared at the spectre of pale poverty!                   
5609See him, with pains of body, pangs of soul,
5610Burn through the tropic, freeze beneath the pole!
5611Wilt thou do nothing for a nobler end,
5612Nothing, to make philosophy thy friend?
5613To stop thy foolish views, thy long desires,
5614And ease thy heart of all that it admires?
5615Here, Wisdom calls: Seek Virtue first, be bold!
5616As gold to silver, Virtue is to gold.
5617There, London's voice: Get money, money still!
5618And then let virtue follow, if she will.'                
5619This, this the saving doctrine, preach'd to all,
5620From low St James's up to high St Paul;
5621From him whose quill stands quiver'd at his ear,
5622To him who notches sticks at Westminster.
5623Barnard in spirit, sense, and truth abounds;
5624Pray then, what wants he?' Fourscore thousand pounds;
5625A pension, or such harness for a slave
5626As Bug now has, and Dorimant would have.
5627Barnard, thou art a cit, with all thy worth;
5628But Bug and Dl, their Honours, and so forth.         
5629Yet every child another song will sing,
5630Virtue, brave boys! tis virtue makes a king.
5631True, conscious honour is to feel no sin,
5632He's arm'd without that's innocent within;
5633Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of brass;
5634Compared to this, a minister's an ass.
5635And say, to which shall our applause belong,
5636This new court-jargon, or the good old song?
5637The modern language of corrupted peers,
5638Or what was spoke at Cressy and Poictiers?              
5639Who counsels best? who whispers, Be but great,
5640With praise or infamy leave that to fate;
5641Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace;
5642If not, by any means get wealth and place.
5643For what? to have a box where eunuchs sing,
5644And foremost in the circle eye a king.
5645Or he, who bids thee face with steady view
5646Proud fortune, and look shallow greatness through:
5647And, while he bids thee, sets th' example too?
5648If such a doctrine, in St James's air,                  
5649Should chance to make the well-dress'd rabble stare;
5650If honest Sz take scandal at a spark,
5651That less admires the palace than the park:
5652Faith, I shall give the answer Reynard gave:
5653I cannot like, dread sir, your royal cave:
5654Because I see, by all the tracks about,
5655Full many a beast goes in, but none comes out.
5656Adieu to virtue, if you're once a slave:
5657Send her to court, you send her to her grave.
5658Well, if a king's a lion, at the least                  
5659The people are a many-headed beast:
5660Can they direct what measures to pursue,
5661Who know themselves so little what to do?
5662Alike in nothing but one lust of gold,
5663Just half the land would buy, and half be sold:
5664Their country's wealth our mightier misers drain,
5665Or cross, to plunder provinces, the main;
5666The rest, some farm the poor-box, some the pews;
5667Some keep assemblies, and would keep the stews;
5668Some with fat bucks on childless dotards fawn;          
5669Some win rich widows by their chine and brawn;
5670While with the silent growth of ten per cent,
5671In dirt and darkness, hundreds stink content.
5672Of all these ways, if each pursues his own,
5673Satire, be kind, and let the wretch alone:
5674But show me one who has it in his power
5675To act consistent with himself an hour.
5676Sir Job sail'd forth, the evening bright and still,
5677No place on earth' he cried like Greenwich hill!
5678Up starts a palace, lo, the obedient base               
5679Slopes at its foot, the woods its sides embrace,
5680The silver Thames reflects its marble face.
5681Now let some whimsy, or that devil within,
5682Which guides all those who know not what they mean,
5683But give the knight or give his lady spleen;
5684Away, away! take all your scaffolds down,
5685For, snug's the word: my dear! we'll live in town.
5686At amorous Flavio is the stocking thrown?
5687That very night he longs to lie alone.
5688The fool, whose wife elopes some thrice a quarter,      
5689For matrimonial solace dies a martyr.
5690Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch,
5691Transform themselves so strangely as the rich?
5692Well, but the poorthe poor have the same itch;
5693They change their weekly barber, weekly news,
5694Prefer a new japanner to their shoes,
5695Discharge their garrets, move their beds, and run
5696They know not whither in a chaise and one;
5697They hire their sculler, and when once aboard,
5698Grow sick, and damn the climatelike a lord.           
5699You laugh, half-beau, half-sloven if I stand;
5700My wig all powder, and all snuff my band;
5701You laugh, if coat and breeches strangely vary,
5702White gloves, and linen worthy Lady Mary!
5703But, when no prelate's lawn with hair-shirt lined
5704Is half so incoherent as my mind,
5705When each opinion with the next at strife,
5706One ebb and flow of follies all my life
5707I plant, root up; I build, and then confound;
5708Turn round to square, and square again to round;        
5709You never change one muscle of your face,
5710You think this madness but a common case,
5711Nor once to Chancery, nor to Hale apply;
5712Yet hang your lip, to see a seam awry!
5713Careless how ill I with myself agree,
5714Kind to my dress, my figure, not to me.
5715Is this my guide, philosopher, and friend?
5716This, he who loves me, and who ought to mend?
5717Who ought to make me what he can, or none,
5718That man divine whom Wisdom calls her own;              
5719Great without title, without fortune bless'd;
5720Rich even when plunder'd, honour'd while oppress'd;
5721Loved without youth, and follow'd without power;
5722At home, though exiled; free, though in the Tower;
5723In short, that reasoning, high, immortal thing,
5724Just less than Jove, and much above a king,
5725Nay, half in heaven except what's mighty odd
5726A fit of vapours clouds this demi-god.
5727While you, great patron of mankind! sustain
5728The balanced world, and open all the main;
5729Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
5730At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
5731How shall the Muse, from such a monarch, steal
5732An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
5733This vault of air, this congregated ball,
5734Self-centred sun, and stars that rise and fall,
5735There are, my friend! whose philosophic eyes
5736Look through and trust the Ruler with his skies,
5737To Him commit the hour, the day, the year,
5738And view this dreadful All without a fear.               
5739Admire we then what earth's low entrails hold,
5740Arabian shores, or Indian seas infold;
5741All the mad trade of fools and slaves for gold?
5742Or popularity? or stars and strings?
5743The mob's applauses, or the gifts of kings?
5744Say with what eyes we ought at courts to gaze,
5745And pay the great our homage of amaze?
5746If weak the pleasure that from these can spring,
5747The fear to want them is as weak a thing:
5748Whether we dread, or whether we desire,                  
5749In either case, believe me, we admire;
5750Whether we joy or grieve, the same the curse,
5751Surprised at better, or surprised at worse.
5752Thus good or bad, to one extreme betray
5753The unbalanced mind, and snatch the man away:
5754For virtue's self may too much zeal be had;
5755The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
5756Go then, and, if you can, admire the state
5757Of beaming diamonds, and reflected plate;
5758Procure a taste to double the surprise,                  
5759And gaze on Parian charms with learnd eyes:
5760Be struck with bright brocade, or Tyrian dye,
5761Our birthday nobles' splendid livery.
5762If not so pleased, at council-board rejoice,
5763To see their judgments hang upon thy voice;
5764From morn to night, at Senate, Rolls, and Hall,
5765Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at all.
5766But wherefore all this labour, all this strife?
5767For fame, for riches, for a noble wife?
5768Shall one whom nature, learning, birth, conspired        
5769To form, not to admire, but be admired,
5770Sigh, while his Chloe, blind to wit and worth,
5771Weds the rich dulness of some son of earth?
5772Yet time ennobles, or degrades each line;
5773It brighten'd Craggs's, and may darken thine:
5774And what is fame? the meanest have their day,
5775The greatest can but blaze, and pass away.
5776Graced as thou art, with all the power of words,
5777So known, so honour'd, at the House of Lords:
5778Conspicuous scene! another yet is nigh                   
5779More silent far where kings and poets lie;
5780Where Murray long enough his country's pride
5781Shall be no more than Tully, or than Hyde!
5782Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the stone,
5783Will any mortal let himself alone?
5784See Ward by batter'd beaux invited over,
5785And desperate misery lays hold on Dover.
5786The case is easier in the mind's disease;
5787There all men may be cured, whene'er they please.
5788Would ye be blest? despise low joys, low gains;          
5789Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains;
5790Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.
5791But art thou one, whom new opinions sway,
5792One who believes as Tindal leads the way,
5793Who virtue and a church alike disowns,
5794Thinks that but words, and this but brick and stones?
5795Fly then, on all the wings of wild desire,
5796Admire whate'er the maddest can admire:
5797Is wealth thy passion? Hence! from pole to pole,
5798Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll,          
5799For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold,
5800Prevent the greedy, and outbid the bold:
5801Advance thy golden mountain to the skies;
5802On the broad base of fifty thousand rise,
5803Add one round hundred, and if that's not fair
5804Add fifty more, and bring it to a square.
5805For, mark the advantage; just so many score
5806Will gain a wife with half as many more,
5807Procure her beauty, make that beauty chaste,
5808And then such friendsas cannot fail to last.           
5809A man of wealth is dubb'd a man of worth,
5810Venus shall give him form, and Anstis birth.
5811Believe me, many a German prince is worse,
5812Who, proud of pedigree, is poor of purse.
5813His wealth brave Timon gloriously confounds;
5814Ask'd for a groat, he gives a hundred pounds;
5815Or if three ladies like a luckless play,
5816Takes the whole house upon the poet's day.
5817Now, in such exigencies not to need,
5818Upon my word, you must be rich indeed;                   
5819A noble superfluity it craves,
5820Not for yourself, but for your fools and knaves;
5821Something, which for your honour they may cheat,
5822And which it much becomes you to forget.
5823If wealth alone then make and keep us bless'd,
5824Still, still be getting, never, never rest.
5825But if to power and place your passion lie,
5826If in the pomp of life consist the joy;
5827Then hire a slave, or if you will a lord              
5828To do the honours, and to give the word;
5829Tell at your leve, as the crowds approach,
5830To whom to nod, whom take into your coach,
5831Whom honour with your hand: to make remarks,
5832Who rules in Cornwall, or who rules in Berks:
5833This may be troublesome, is near the chair:
5834That makes three members, this can choose a mayor.
5835Instructed thus, you bow, embrace, protest,
5836Adopt him son, or cousin at the least,
5837Then turn about, and laugh at your own jest.            
5838Or if your life be one continued treat,
5839If to live well means nothing but to eat;
5840Up, up! cries Gluttony, tis break of day,
5841Go drive the deer, and drag the finny prey;
5842With hounds and horns go hunt an appetite
5843So Russel did, but could not eat at night,
5844Call'd, happy dog! the beggar at his door,
5845And envied thirst and hunger to the poor.
5846Adieu-if this advice appear the worst,
5847E'en take the counsel which I gave you first:
5848Or better precepts if you can impart,
5849Why do, I'll follow them with all my heart.
5850While you, great patron of mankind! sustain
5851The balanced world, and open all the main;
5852Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
5853At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
5854How shall the Muse, from such a monarch, steal
5855An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
5856To thee, the world its present homage pays,
5857The harvest early, but mature the praise:
5858Great friend of liberty! in kings a name
5859Above all Greek, above all Roman fame:
5860Whose word is truth, as sacred and revered,
5861As Heaven's own oracles from altars heard.
5862Wonder of kings! like whom, to mortal eyes
5863None e'er has risen, and none e'er shall rise. 
5864If time improve our wit as well as wine,
5865Say at what age a poet grows divine?                     
5866Shall we, or shall we not, account him so,
5867Who died, perhaps, an hundred years ago?
5868End all dispute; and fix the year precise
5869When British bards begin t' immortalise?
5870Who lasts a century can have no flaw,
5871I hold that wit a classic, good in law.
5872Suppose he wants a year, will you compound?
5873And shall we deem him ancient, right and sound,
5874Or damn to all eternity at once,
5875At ninety-nine, a modern and a dunce? 
5876Shakspeare whom you and every play-house bill
5877Style the divine, the matchless, what you will,         
5878For gain, not glory, wing'd his roving flight,
5879And grew immortal in his own despite.
5880Ben, old and poor, as little seem'd to heed
5881The life to come, in every poet's creed.
5882Who now reads Cowley? if he pleases yet,
5883His moral pleases, not his pointed wit;
5884Forgot his epic, nay, Pindaric art,
5885But still I love the language of his heart.
5886In days of ease, when now the weary sword
5887Was sheathed, and luxury with Charles restored;         
5888In every taste of foreign courts improved,
5889All, by the king's example, lived and loved.
5890Then peers grew proud in horsemanship t' excel,
5891Newmarket's glory rose, as Britain's fell;
5892The soldier breathed the gallantries of France,
5893And every flowery courtier writ romance.
5894Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm,
5895And yielding metal flow'd to human form:
5896Lely on animated canvas stole
5897The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.            
5898No wonder then, when all was love and sport,
5899The willing Muses were debauch'd at court:
5900On each enervate string they taught the note
5901To pant, or tremble through an eunuch's throat.
5902Yet, sir, reflect, the mischief is not great;
5903These madmen never hurt the Church or State:            
5904Sometimes the folly benefits mankind;
5905And rarely avarice taints the tuneful mind.
5906Allow him but his plaything of a pen,
5907He ne'er rebels, or plots, like other men:
5908Flight of cashiers, or mobs, he'll never mind;
5909And knows no losses while the Muse is kind.
5910To cheat a friend, or ward, he leaves to Peter;
5911The good man heaps up nothing but mere metre,
5912Enjoys his garden and his book in quiet;
5913And thena perfect hermit in his diet.
5914Of little use the man you may suppose,
5915Who says in verse what others say in prose;
5916Yet let me show, a poet's of some weight,
5917And though no soldier useful to the State.
5918What will a child learn sooner than a song?
5919What better teach a foreigner the tongue?
5920What's long or short, each accent where to place,
5921And speak in public with some sort of grace?
5922I scarce can think him such a worthless thing,
5923Unless he praise some monster of a king;                
5924Or virtue or religion turn to sport,
5925To please a lewd or unbelieving court.
5926The boys and girls whom charity maintains,
5927Implore your help in these pathetic strains:
5928How could devotion touch the country pews,
5929Unless the gods bestow'd a proper muse?
5930Verse cheers their leisure, verse assists their work,
5931Verse prays for peace, or sings down Pope and Turk.
5932The silenced preacher yields to potent strain,
5933And feels that grace his prayer besought in vain;
5934The blessing thrills through all the labouring throng,
5935And Heaven is won by violence of song.  
5936Our rural ancestors, with little blest,
5937Patient of labour when the end was rest,
5938Indulged the day that housed their annual grain,
5939With feasts, and offerings, and a thankful strain:
5940The joy their wives, their sons, and servants share,
5941Ease of their toil, and partners of their care:
5942The laugh, the jest, attendants on the bowl,
5943Smooth'd every brow, and open'd every soul:
5944With growing years the pleasing license grew,
5945And taunts alternate innocently flew.                   
5946But times corrupt, and nature, ill-inclined,
5947Produced the point that left a sting behind;
5948Till friend with friend, and families at strife,
5949Triumphant malice raged through private life.
5950Who felt the wrong, or fear'd it, took the alarm,
5951Appeal'd to law, and justice lent her arm.
5952At length, by wholesome dread of statutes bound,
5953The poets learn'd to please, and not to wound:
5954Most warp'd to flattery's side; but some, more nice,
5955Preserved the freedom, and forbore the vice.            
5956Hence satire rose, that just the medium hit,
5957And heals with morals what it hurts with wit.
5958O you! whom Vanity's light bark conveys
5959On Fame's mad voyage by the wind of praise,
5960With what a shifting gale your course you ply,
5961For ever sunk too low, or borne too high!
5962Who pants for glory finds but short repose,             
5963A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
5964Farewell the stage! if just as thrives the play,
5965The silly bard grows fat, or falls away.
5966There still remains, to mortify a wit,
5967The many-headed monster of the pit:
5968A senseless, worthless, and unhonour'd crowd;
5969Who, to disturb their betters mighty proud,
5970Clattering their sticks before ten lines are spoke.
5971Call for the farce, the bear, or the black-joke.
5972What dear delight to Britons farce affords!             
5973Ever the taste of mobs, but now of lords;
5974Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies
5975From heads to ears, and now from ears to eyes.
5976The play stands still; damn action and discourse,
5977Back fly the scenes, and enter foot and horse;
5978Pageants on pageants, in long order drawn,
5979Peers, heralds, bishops, ermine, gold, and lawn;
5980But not this part of the poetic state
5981Alone, deserves the favour of the great:
5982Think of those authors, sir, who would rely             
5983More on a reader's sense, than gazer's eye.
5984Or who shall wander where the Muses sing?
5985Who climb their mountain, or who taste their spring?
5986How shall we fill a library with wit,
5987When Merlin's cave is half unfurnish'd yet?
5988My liege! why writers little claim your thought,
5989I guess; and, with their leave, will tell the fault:
5990We poets are upon a poet's word
5991Of all mankind, the creatures most absurd:
5992The season, when to come, and when to go,               
5993To sing, or cease to sing, we never know;
5994And if we will recite nine hours in ten,
5995You lose your patience, just like other men.
5996Then, too, we hurt ourselves, when to defend
5997A single verse, we quarrel with a friend;
5998Repeat unask'd; lament, the wit's too fine
5999For vulgar eyes, and point out every line.
6000But most, when straining with too weak a wing,
6001We needs will write epistles to the king;
6002And from the moment we oblige the town,                 
6003Expect a place, or pension from the crown;
6004Years following years, steal something every day,
6005At last they steal us from ourselves away;
6006In one our frolics, one amusements end,
6007In one a mistress drops, in one a friend:
6008This subtle thief of liBut grant I may relapse, for want of grace,
6009Again to rhyme; can London be the place?
6010Who there his Muse, or self, or soul attends,            
6011In crowds, and courts, law, business, feasts, and friends?
6012My counsel sends to execute a deed:
6013A poet begs me I will hear him read:
6014In Palace-yard at nine you'll find me there
6015At ten for certain, sir, in Bloomsbury Square
6016Before the Lords at twelve my cause comes on
6017There's a rehearsal, sir, exact at one.
6018Oh, but a wit can study in the streets,
6019And raise his mind above the mob he meets.
6020Not quite so well, however, as one ought;               
6021A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a thought:
6022And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead,
6023God knows, may hurt the very ablest head.
6024Have you not seen, at Guildhall's narrow pass,
6025Two aldermen dispute it with an ass?fe, this paltry time,
6026What will it leave me, if it snatch my rhyme?
6027In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject,
6028They treat themselves with most profound respect;
6029Tis to small purpose that you hold your tongue,
6030Each, praised within, is happy all day long,
6031But how severely with themselves proceed
6032The men, who write such verse as we can read?
6033Their own strict judges, not a word they spare
6034That wants, or force, or light, or weight, or care,     
6035Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place,
6036Nay though at court perhaps it may find grace:
6037Such they'll degrade; and sometimes, in its stead,
6038In downright charity revive the dead;
6039Mark where a bold expressive phrase appears,
6040Bright through the rubbish of some hundred years;
6041Command old words, that long have slept, to wake,
6042Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spake;
6043Or bid the new be English, ages hence,
6044For use will father what's begot by sense             
6045Pour the full tide of eloquence along,
6046Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong,
6047Rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue;
6048Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine,
6049But show no mercy to an empty line:
6050Then polish all, with so much life and ease,
6051You think tis nature, and a knack to please:
6052But ease in writing flows from art, not chance;
6053As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
6054If such the plague and pains to write by rule,          
6055Better say I be pleased, and play the fool;
6056Call, if you will, bad rhyming a disease,
6057It gives men happiness, or leaves them ease.
6058There lived in primo Georgii they record
6059A worthy member, no small fool, a lord;
6060Who, though the House was up, delighted sat,
6061Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate:
6062In all but this, a man of sober life,
6063Fond of his friend, and civil to his wife;
6064Not quite a madman, though a pasty fell,                
6065And much too wise to walk into a well.
6066Him, the damn'd doctors and his friends immured,
6067They bled, they cupp'd, they purged; in short, they cured:
6068Whereat the gentleman began to stare
6069My friends!' he cried, pox take you for your care!
6070That from a patriot of distinguish'd note,
6071Have bled and purged me to a simple vote.
6072Well, on the whole, plain prose must be my fate:
6073Wisdom curse on it! will come soon or late.
6074There is a time when poets will grow dull:              
6075I'll e'en leave verses to the boys at school:
6076To rules of poetry no more confined,
6077I learn to smooth and harmonise my mind,
6078Teach every thought within its bounds to roll,
6079And keep the equal measure of the soul.
6080Soon as I enter at my country door,
6081My mind resumes the thread it dropped before;
6082Thoughts, which at Hyde-park-corner I forgot,
6083Meet, and rejoin me, in the pensive grot,
6084There all alone, and compliments apart,                 
6085I ask these sober questions of my heart:
6086If, when the more you drink, the more you crave,
6087You tell the doctor; when the more you have,
6088The more you want, why not with equal ease
6089Confess as well your folly, as disease?
6090The heart resolves this matter in a trice,
6091Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.
6092Yes, sir, how small soever be my heap,
6093A part I will enjoy, as well as keep.
6094My heir may sigh, and think it want of grace
6095A man so poor would live without a place:
6096But sure no statute in his favour says,
6097How free, or frugal, I shall pass my days:
6098I, who at some times spend, at others spare,            
6099Divided between carelessness and care.
6100Tis one thing madly to disperse my store:
6101Another, not to heed to treasure more;
6102Glad, like a boy, to snatch the first good day,
6103And pleased, if sordid want be far away.
6104But why all this of avarice? I have none.
6105I wish you joy, sir, of a tyrant gone;
6106But does no other lord it at this hour,
6107As wild and madthe avarice of power?
6108Does neither rage inflame, nor fear appal?
6109Not the black fear of death, that saddens all?
6110With terrors round, can reason hold her throne,         
6111Despise the known, nor tremble at the unknown?
6112Survey both worlds, intrepid and entire,
6113In spite of witches, devils, dreams, and fire?
6114Pleased to look forward, pleased to look behind,
6115And count each birthday with a grateful mind?
6116Has life no sourness, drawn so near its end?
6117Canst thou endure a foe, forgive a friend?
6118Has age but melted the rough parts away,
6119As winter-fruits grow mild ere they decay?
6120Or will you think, my friend, your business done,       
6121When, of a hundred thorns, you pull out one?
6122Learn to live well, or fairly make your will;
6123You've play'd, and loved, and eat, and drank your fill:
6124Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
6125Comes tittering on, and shoves you from the stage:
6126Leave such to trifle with more grace and ease,
6127Whom folly pleases, and whose follies please.
6128Yes; thank my stars! as early as I knew
6129This town, I had the sense to hate it too:
6130Yet here, as ev'n in Hell, there must be still
6131One giant-vice, so excellently ill,
6132That all beside, one pities, not abhors;
6133As who knows Sappho, smiles at other whores.
6134I grant that poetry's a crying sin;
6135It brought no doubt the Excise and Army in:
6136Catch'd like the plague, or love, the Lord knows how,
6137But that the cure is starving, all allow.                
6138Yet like the papist's is the poet's state,
6139Poor and disarm'd, and hardly worth your hate!
6140Here a lean bard, whose wit could never give
6141Himself a dinner, makes an actor live;
6142The thief condemn'd, in law already dead,
6143So prompts, and saves a rogue who cannot read.
6144Thus as the pipes of some carved organ move,
6145The gilded puppets dance and mount above.
6146Heaved by the breath the inspiring bellows blow:
6147The inspiring bellows lie and pant below.                
6148One sings the fair; but songs no longer move;
6149No rat is rhymed to death, nor maid to love:
6150In love's, in nature's spite, the siege they hold,
6151And scorn the flesh, the devil, and allbut gold.
6152These write to lords, some mean reward to get,
6153As needy beggars sing at doors for meat.
6154Those write because all write, and so have still
6155Excuse for writing, and for writing ill.
6156Wretched indeed! but far more wretched yet
6157Is he who makes his meal on others' wit:                 
6158Tis changed, no doubt, from what it was before,
6159His rank digestion makes it wit no more:
6160Sense, pass'd through him, no longer is the same;
6161For food digested takes another name.
6162I pass o'er all those confessors and martyrs,
6163Who live like Sutton, or who die like Chartres,
6164Out-cant old Esdras, or out-drink his heir,
6165Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-swear;
6166Wicked as pages, who in early years
6167Act sins which Prisca's confessor scarce hears.          
6168Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful sake
6169Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;
6170Of whose strange crimes no canonist can tell
6171In what commandment's large contents they dwell.
6172One, one man only breeds my just offence;
6173Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave impudence:
6174Time, that at last matures a clap to pox,
6175Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox,
6176And brings all natural events to pass,
6177Hath made him an attorney of an ass.                     
6178No young divine, new-beneficed, can be
6179More pert, more proud, more positive than he.
6180What further could I wish the fop to do,
6181But turn a wit, and scribble verses too;
6182Pierce the soft labyrinth of a lady's ear
6183With rhymes of this per cent, and that per year?
6184Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts,
6185Like nets or lime-twigs, for rich widows' hearts:
6186Call himself barrister to every wench,
6187And woo in language of the Pleas and Bench?              
6188Language, which Boreas might to Auster hold
6189More rough than forty Germans when they scold.
6190Cursed be the wretch, so venal and so vain:
6191Paltry and proud, as drabs in Drury-lane.
6192Tis such a bounty as was never known,
6193If Peter deigns to help you to your own:
6194What thanks, what praise, if Peter but supplies,
6195And what a solemn face, if he denies!
6196Grave, as when prisoners shake the head and swear
6197Twas only suretiship that brought em there.            
6198His office keeps your parchment fates entire,
6199He starves with cold to save them from the fire;
6200For you he walks the streets through rain or dust,
6201For not in chariots Peter puts his trust;
6202For you he sweats and labours at the laws,
6203Takes God to witness he affects your cause,
6204And lies to every lord in every thing,
6205Like a king's favourite, or like a king.
6206These are the talents that adorn them all,
6207From wicked Waters ev'n to godly Paul.
6208Not more of simony beneath black gowns,                  
6209Not more of bastardy in heirs to crowns.
6210In shillings and in pence at first they deal;
6211And steal so little, few perceive they steal;
6212Till, like the sea, they compass all the land,
6213From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand:
6214And when rank widows purchase luscious nights,
6215Or when a duke to Jansen punts at White's,
6216Or city-heir in mortgage melts away;
6217Satan himself feels far less joy than they.
6218Piecemeal they win this acre first, then that,           
6219Glean on, and gather up the whole estate.
6220Then strongly fencing ill-got wealth by law,
6221Indentures, covenants, articles they draw,
6222Large as the fields themselves, and larger far
6223Than civil codes, with all their glosses, are;
6224So vast, our new divines, we must confess,
6225Are fathers of the Church for writing less.
6226But let them write for you, each rogue impairs
6227The deeds, and dext'rously omits, ses heires:
6228No commentator can more slily pass                      
6229O'er a learn'd, unintelligible place;
6230Or, in quotation, shrewd divines leave out
6231Those words, that would against them clear the doubt.
6232So Luther thought the Pater-noster long,
6233When doom'd to say his beads and even-song;
6234But having cast his cowl, and left those laws,
6235Adds to Christ's prayer, the Power and Glory clause.
6236The lands are bought; but where are to be found
6237Those ancient woods, that shaded all the ground?
6238We see no new-built palaces aspire,                     
6239No kitchens emulate the vestal fire.
6240Where are those troops of poor, that throng'd of yore
6241The good old landlord's hospitable door?
6242Well, I could wish, that still in lordly domes
6243Some beasts were kill'd, though not whole hecatombs;
6244That both extremes were banish'd from their walls,
6245Carthusian fasts, and fulsome Bacchanals;
6246And all mankind might that just mean observe,
6247In which none e'er could surfeit, none could starve.
6248These as good works, tis true, we all allow;           
6249But oh! these works are not in fashion now:
6250Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely rare,
6251Extremely fine, but what no man will wear.
6252Thus much I've said, I trust, without offence;
6253Let no court sycophant pervert my sense,
6254Nor sly informer watch these words to draw
6255Within the reach of treason, or the law.
6256If every wheel of that unwearied mill
6257That turn'd ten thousand verses, now stands still?
6258Well, if it be my time to quit the stage,
6259Adieu to all the follies of the age!
6260I die in charity with fool and knave,
6261Secure of peace at least beyond the grave.
6262I've had my purgatory here betimes,
6263And paid for all my satires, all my rhymes.
6264The poet's hell, its tortures, fiends, and flames.
6265To this were trifles, toys, and empty names.
6266With foolish pride my heart was never fired,
6267Nor the vain itch t' admire, or be admired;              
6268I hoped for no commission from his Grace;
6269I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place;
6270Had no new verses, nor new suit to show;
6271Yet went to court!the devil would have it so.
6272But, as the fool that, in reforming days,
6273Would go to mass in jest as story says
6274Could not but think, to pay his fine was odd,
6275Since twas no form'd design of serving God;
6276So was I punish'd, as if full as proud,
6277As prone to ill, as negligent of good.                   
6278As deep in debt, without a thought to pay,
6279As vain, as idle, and as false as they
6280Who live at court, for going once that way!
6281Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold! there came
6282A thing which Adam had been posed to name;
6283Noah had refused it lodging in his ark,
6284Where all the race of reptiles might embark:
6285A verier monster than on Afric's shore
6286The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore,
6287Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous shelves contain,        
6288Nay, all that lying travellers can feign.
6289The watch would hardly let him pass at noon,
6290At night, would swear him dropp'd out of the moon.
6291One whom the mob, when next we find or make
6292A Popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take,
6293And the wise justice, starting from his chair,
6294Cry, By your priesthood, tell me what you are?
6295Such was the wight; the apparel on his back,
6296Though coarse, was reverend, and though bare, was black:
6297The suit, if by the fashion one might guess,             
6298Was velvet in the youth of good Queen Bess,
6299But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd;
6300So time, that changes all things, had ordain'd!
6301Our sons shall see it leisurely decay,
6302First turn plain rash, then vanish quite away.
6303In that nice moment, as another lie
6304Stood just a-tilt, the minister came by.
6305To him he flies, and bows, and bows again,
6306Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train.
6307Not Fannius' self more impudently near,
6308When half his nose is in his prince's ear.
6309I quaked at heart; and still afraid, to see             
6310All the court fill'd with stranger things than he,
6311Ran out as fast, as one that pays his bail,
6312And dreads more actions, hurries from a jail.
6313Bear me, some god! oh quickly bear me hence
6314To wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense,
6315Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
6316And the free soul looks down to pity kings!
6317There sober thought pursued the amusing theme,
6318Till fancy colour'd it, and form'd a dream.
6319A vision hermits can to Hell transport,                 
6320And forced ev'n me to see the damn'd at court.
6321Not Dante, dreaming all the infernal state,
6322Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate.
6323Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free;
6324Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me:
6325Shall I, the terror of this sinful town,
6326Care if a liveried lord or smile or frown?
6327Who cannot flatter, and detest who can,
6328Tremble before a noble serving-man?
6329O my fair mistress, Truth! shall I quit thee            
6330For huffing, braggart, puff'd nobility?
6331Thou, who since yesterday hast roll'd o'er all
6332The busy, idle blockheads of the ball,
6333Hast thou, O Sun! beheld an emptier sort,
6334Than such as swell this bladder of a court?
6335Now pox on those who show a court in wax!
6336It ought to bring all courtiers on their backs:
6337Such painted puppets! such a varnish'd race
6338Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face!
6339Such waxen noses, stately staring things-             
6340No wonder some folks bow, and think them kings.
6341See! where the British youth, engaged no more
6342At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a whore,
6343Pay their last duty to the court, and come
6344All fresh and fragrant, to the drawing-room;
6345In hues as gay, and odours as divine,
6346As the fair fields they sold to look so fine.
6347That's velvet for a king!' the flatterer swears;
6348Tis true, for ten days hence twill be King Lear's.
6349Our court may justly to our stage give rules,           
6350That helps it both to fools' coats and to fools.
6351And why not players strut in courtiers' clothes?
6352For these are actors too, as well as those:
6353Wants reach all states; they beg, but better dress'd,
6354And all is splendid poverty at best.
6355But oh! what terrors must distract the soul
6356Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole;
6357Or should one pound of powder less bespread
6358Those monkey tails that wag behind their head.
6359Thus finish'd, and corrected to a hair,
6360They march, to prate their hour before the fair.
6361So first to preach a white-gloved chaplain goes,        
6362With band of lily, and with cheek of rose,
6363Sweeter than Sharon, in immaculate trim,
6364Neatness itself impertinent in him,
6365Let but the ladies smile, and they are blest:
6366Prodigious! how the things protest, protest.
6367Nature made every fop to plague his brother,
6368Just as one beauty mortifies another.
6369But here's the captain that will plague them both,      
6370Whose air cries, Arm! whose very look's an oath:
6371The captain's honest, sirs, and that's enough,
6372Though his soul's bullet, and his body buff.
6373He spits fore-right; his haughty chest before,
6374Like battering rams, beats open every door:
6375And with a face as red, and as awry,
6376As Herod's hangdogs in old tapestry,
6377Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's curse,
6378Has yet a strange ambition to look worse;
6379Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe,
6380Jests like a licensed fool, commands like law.
6381Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it so
6382As men from jails to execution go;
6383For hung with deadly sins I see the wall,
6384And lined with giants deadlier than em all:
6385Each man an Ascapart, of strength to toss
6386For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing-cross.
6387Scared at the grisly forms, I sweat, I fly,
6388And shake all o'er, like a discover'd spy.
6389Courts are too much for wits so weak as mine:
6390Charge them with Heaven's artillery, bold divine!       
6391From such alone the great rebukes endure,
6392Whose satire's sacred, and whose rage secure:
6393Tis mine to wash a few light stains, but theirs
6394To deluge sin, and drown a court in tears.
6395Howe'er, what's now Apocrypha, my wit,
6396In time to come, may pass for holy writ.
6397Yes, you despise the man to books confined,
6398Who from his study rails at human kind;
6399Though what he learns he speaks, and may advance
6400Some general maxims, or be right by chance.
6401The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave,
6402That from his cage cries Cuckold,' Whore,' and Knave,
6403Though many a passenger he rightly call,
6404You hold him no philosopher at all.
6405And yet the fate of all extremes is such,
6406Men may be read, as well as books, too much.             
6407To observations which ourselves we make,
6408We grow more partial for the observer's sake;
6409To written wisdom, as another's, less:
6410Maxims are drawn from notions, those from guess.
6411There's some peculiar in each leaf and grain,
6412Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein:
6413Shall only man be taken in the gross?
6414Grant but as many sorts of mind as moss.
6415That each from other differs, first confess;
6416Next that he varies from himself no less:                
6417Add nature's, custom's, reason's, passion's strife,
6418And all opinion's colours cast on life.
6419Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows finds,
6420Quick whirls, and shifting eddies, of our minds?
6421On human actions reason though you can,
6422It may be reason, but it is not man:
6423His principle of action once explore,
6424That instant tis his principle no more.
6425Like following life through creatures you dissect,
6426You lose it in the moment you detect.                    
6427Yet more; the difference is as great between
6428The optics seeing, as the objects seen.
6429All manners take a tincture from our own;
6430Or come discolour'd, through our passions shown;
6431Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
6432Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
6433Nor will life's stream for observation stay,
6434It hurries all too fast to mark their way:
6435In vain sedate reflections we would make,
6436When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take.        
6437Oft, in the passions' wild rotation toss'd,
6438Our spring of action to ourselves is lost:
6439Tired, not determined, to the last we yield,
6440And what comes then is master of the field.
6441As the last image of that troubled heap,
6442When sense subsides, and fancy sports in sleep,
6443Though past the recollection of the thought,
6444Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought:
6445Something as dim to our internal view,
6446Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do.               
6447True, some are open, and to all men known;
6448Others so very close, they're hid from none;
6449So darkness strikes the sense no less than light
6450Thus gracious Chandos is beloved at sight;
6451And every child hates Shylock, though his soul
6452Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole.
6453At half mankind when generous Manly raves,
6454All know tis virtue, for he thinks them knaves:
6455When universal homage Umbra pays,
6456All see tis vice, and itch of vulgar praise.            
6457When flattery glares, all hate it in a queen,
6458While one there is who charms us with his spleen.
6459But these plain characters we rarely find;
6460Though strong the bent, yet quick the turns of mind:
6461Or puzzling contraries confound the whole;
6462Or affectations quite reverse the soul.
6463The dull, flat falsehood serves for policy;
6464And, in the cunning, truth itself's a lie:
6465Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise;
6466The fool lies hid in inconsistencies.                    
6467See the same man, in vigour, in the gout;
6468Alone, in company; in place, or out;
6469Early at business, and at hazard late;
6470Mad at a fox-chase, wise at a debate;
6471Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball;
6472Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall.
6473Catius is ever moral, ever grave,
6474Thinks who endures a knave, is next a knave,
6475Save just at dinnerthen prefers, no doubt,
6476A rogue with venison to a saint without.                 
6477Who would not praise Patricio's high desert,
6478His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart,
6479His comprehensive head, all interests weigh'd,
6480All Europe saved, yet Britain not betray'd?
6481He thanks you not, his pride is in picquet,
6482Newmarket fame, and judgment at a bet.
6483What made says Montaigne, or more sage Charron
6484Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon?
6485A perjured prince a leaden saint revere,
6486A godless regent tremble at a star?                   
6487The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit,
6488Faithless through piety, and duped through wit?
6489Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule,
6490And just her wisest monarch made a fool?
6491Know, God and Nature only are the same:
6492In man, the judgment shoots at flying game;
6493A bird of passage! gone as soon as found,
6494Now in the moon perhaps, now under ground.
6495II. In vain the sage, with retrospective eye,
6496Would from the apparent what conclude the why,      
6497Infer the motive from the deed, and show
6498That what we chanced was what we meant to do.
6499Behold! if fortune or a mistress frowns,
6500Some plunge in business, others shave their crowns:
6501To ease the soul of one oppressive weight,
6502This quits an empire, that embroils a state:
6503The same adust complexion has impell'd
6504Charles to the convent, Philip to the field.
6505Not always actions show the man: we find
6506Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind;             
6507Perhaps prosperity becalm'd his breast,
6508Perhaps the wind just shifted from the east:
6509Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat,
6510Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun the great:
6511Who combats bravely is not therefore brave,
6512He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave:
6513Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,
6514His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.
6515But grant that actions best discover man;
6516Take the most strong, and sort them as you can:         
6517The few that glare, each character must mark,
6518You balance not the many in the dark.
6519What will you do with such as disagree?
6520Suppress them, or miscall them policy?
6521Must then at once the character to save
6522The plain rough hero turn a crafty knave?
6523Alas! in truth the man but changed his mind,
6524Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not dined.
6525Ask why from Britain Caesar would retreat?
6526Csar himself might whisper he was beat.                
6527Why risk the world's great empire for a punk?
6528Csar perhaps might answer he was drunk.
6529But, sage historians! tis your task to prove
6530One action, conduct; one, heroic love.
6531Tis from high life high characters are drawn;
6532A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn;
6533A judge is just, a chancellor juster still;
6534A gownman, learn'd; a bishop, what you will;
6535Wise, if a minister; but, if a king,
6536More wise, more learn'd, more just, more everything,    
6537Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate,
6538Born where Heaven's influence scarce can penetrate:
6539In life's low vale, the soil the virtues like,
6540They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
6541Though the same sun with all-diffusive rays
6542Blush in the rose, and in the diamond blaze,
6543We prize the stronger effort of his power,
6544And justly set the gem above the flower.
6545That gay free-thinker, a fine talker once,
6546What turns him now a stupid silent dunce?
6547Some god, or spirit he has lately found;
6548Or chanced to meet a minister that frown'd.
6549Judge we by nature? Habit can efface,
6550Interest o'ercome, or policy take place:
6551By actions? those uncertainty divides:
6552By passions? these dissimulation hides:
6553Opinions? they still take a wider range:                
6554Find, if you can, in what you cannot change.
6555Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes,
6556Tenets with books, and principles with times.
6557Search, then, the ruling passion: there, alone,
6558The wild are constant, and the cunning known;
6559The fool consistent, and the false sincere;
6560Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
6561This clue once found, unravels all the rest,
6562The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confess'd.
6563Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days,              
6564Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise:
6565Born with whate'er could win it from the wise,
6566Women and fools must like him or he dies;
6567Though wondering senates hung on all he spoke,
6568The club must hail him master of the joke.
6569Shall parts so various aim at nothing new?
6570He'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too.
6571Then turns repentant, and his God adores
6572With the same spirit that he drinks and whores;
6573Enough if all around him but admire,                    
6574And now the punk applaud, and now the friar.
6575Thus with each gift of nature and of art,
6576And wanting nothing but an honest heart;
6577Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt;
6578And most contemptible, to shun contempt;
6579His passion still to covet general praise,
6580His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways;
6581A constant bounty which no friend has made;
6582An angel tongue, which no man can persuade;
6583A fool, with more of wit than half mankind,             
6584Too rash for thought, for action too refined;
6585A tyrant to the wife his heart approves;
6586A rebel to the very king he loves;
6587He dies, sad outcast of each church and state,
6588And, harder still! flagitious, yet not great.
6589Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule
6590Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool.
6591Nature well known, no prodigies remain,
6592Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.
6593Yet, in this search, the wisest may mistake,            
6594If second qualities for first they take.
6595When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store;
6596When Csar made a noble dame a whore;
6597In this the lust, in that the avarice
6598Were means, not ends; ambition was the vice.
6599That very Csar, born in Scipio's days,
6600Had aim'd, like him, by chastity at praise.
6601Lucullus, when frugality could charm,
6602Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm.
6603In vain the observer eyes the builder's toil,           
6604But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile.
6605In this one passion man can strength enjoy,
6606As fits give vigour, just when they destroy.
6607Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
6608Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last sand.
6609Consistent in our follies and our sins,
6610Here honest Nature ends as she begins.
6611Old politicians chew on wisdom past,
6612And totter on in business to the last;
6613As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out,                
6614As sober Lanesborough dancing in the gout.
6615Behold a reverend sire, whom want of grace
6616Has made the father of a nameless race,
6617Shoved from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd
6618By his own son, that passes by unbless'd:
6619Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
6620And envies every sparrow that he sees.
6621See Sin in state, majestically drunk;
6622Proud as a peeress, prouder as a punk;                   
6623Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside,
6624A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
6625What then? let blood and body bear the fault,
6626Her head's untouch'd, that noble seat of thought:
6627Such this day's doctrine in another fit
6628She sins with poets through pure love of wit.
6629Wise wretch! with pleasures too refined to please;
6630With too much spirit to be e'er at ease;
6631With too much quickness ever to be taught;
6632With too much thinking to have common thought:
6633You purchase pain with all that joy can give,
6634And die of nothing, but a rage to live. 
6635Offend her, and she knows not to forgive:
6636Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live:
6637But die, and she'll adore youthen the bust
6638And temple risethen fall again to dust.               
6639Last night, her lord was all that's good and great:
6640A knave this morning, and his will a cheat.
6641Strange! by the means defeated of the ends,
6642By spirit robb'd of power, by warmth of friends,
6643By wealth of followers! without one distress,
6644Sick of herself through very selfishness!
6645Pictures like these, dear Madam, to design,
6646Asks no firm hand, and no unerring line;
6647Some wandering touches, some reflected light,
6648Some flying stroke alone can hit em right:
6649For how should equal colours do the knack?
6650Chameleons who can paint in white and black?
6651She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
6652But never, never reach'd one generous thought.
6653Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour,
6654Content to dwell in decencies for ever.
6655So very reasonable, so unmoved,
6656As never yet to love, or to be loved.
6657She, while her lover pants upon her breast,
6658Can mark the figures on an Indian chest;
6659And when she sees her friend in deep despair,
6660Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair.              
6661Forbid it, Heaven! a favour or a debt
6662She e'er should cancelbut she may forget.
6663One certain portrait may I grant be seen,
6664Which Heaven has varnish'd out, and made a queen:
6665The same for ever! and described by all
6666With truth and goodness, as with crown and ball.
6667Poets heap virtues, painters gems at will,
6668And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.
6669Tis wellbut, artists! who can paint or write,
6670To draw the naked is your true delight.
6671That robe of quality so struts and swells,
6672None see what parts of nature it conceals:              
6673The exactest traits of body or of mind,
6674We owe to models of an humble kind.
6675In men, we various ruling passions find;
6676In women, two almost divide the kind;
6677Those, only fix'd, they first or last obey,
6678The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.             
6679That, Nature gives; and where the lesson taught
6680Is but to please, can pleasure seem a fault?
6681Experience, this; by man's oppression curst,
6682They seek the second not to lose the first.
6683Men, some to business, some to pleasure take;
6684But every woman is at heart a rake:
6685Men, some to quiet, some to public strife;
6686But every lady would be queen for life.
6687Yet mark the fate of a whole sex of queens!
6688Power all their end, but beauty all the means:          
6689In youth they conquer, with so wild a rage,
6690As leaves them scarce a subject in their age:
6691For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam;
6692No thought of peace or happiness at home.
6693But wisdom's triumph is well-timed retreat,
6694As hard a science to the fair as great!
6695Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless grown,
6696Yet hate repose, and dread to be alone,
6697Worn out in public, weary every eye,
6698Nor leave one sigh behind them when they die.           
6699Pleasure the sex, as children birds, pursue,
6700Still out of reach, yet never out of view;
6701Sure, if they catch, to spoil the toy at most,
6702To covet flying, and regret when lost:
6703At last, to follies youth could scarce defend,
6704It grows their age's prudence to pretend;
6705Ashamed to own they gave delight before,
6706Reduced to feign it, when they give no more:
6707As hags hold Sabbaths, less for joy than spite,
6708So these their merry, miserable night;                  
6709Still round and round the ghosts of beauty glide,
6710And haunt the places where their honour died.
6711See how the world its veterans rewards!
6712A youth of frolics, an old age of cards;
6713Fair to no purpose, artful to no end,
6714Young without lovers, old without a friend;
6715A fop their passion, but their prize a sot,
6716Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot!
6717Ah, friend! to dazzle let the vain design;
6718To raise the thought, and touch the heart, be thine!    
6719That charm shall grow, while what fatigues the ring,
6720Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing:
6721So when the sun's broad beam has tired the sight,
6722All mild ascends the moon's more sober light,
6723Serene in virgin modesty she shines,
6724And unobserved the glaring orb declines.
6725Oh! bless'd with temper, whose unclouded ray
6726Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day;
6727She, who can love a sister's charms, or hear
6728Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear;                
6729She, who ne'er answers till a husband cools,
6730Or, if she rales him, never shows she rules;
6731Charms by accepting, by submitting sways,
6732Yet has her humour most when she obeys;
6733Let fops or fortune fly which way they will;
6734Disdains all loss of tickets, or codille;
6735Spleen, vapours, or small-pox, above them all,
6736And mistress of herself though China fall.
6737And yet, believe me, good as well as ill,
6738Woman's at best a contradiction still.                  
6739Heaven, when it strives to polish all it can
6740Its last, best work, but forms a softer man;
6741Picks from each sex, to make the favourite blest,
6742Your love of pleasure or desire of rest:
6743Blends, in exception to all general rules,
6744Your taste of follies, with our scorn of fools:
6745Reserve with frankness, art with truth allied,
6746Courage with softness, modesty with pride;
6747Fix'd principles, with fancy ever new;
6748Shakes all together, and producesyou.                 
6749Be this a woman's fame: with this unbless'd,
6750Toasts live a scorn, and queens may die a jest.
6751This Phoebus promised I forget the year
6752When those blue eyes first open'd on the sphere;
6753Ascendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care,
6754Averted half your parents' simple prayer;
6755And gave you beauty, but denied the pelf
6756That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself.
6757The generous god, who wit and gold refines,
6758And ripens spirits as he ripens mines,                  
6759Kept dross for duchesses, the world shall know it,
6760To you gave sense, good-humour, and a poet.
6761But I, who think more highly of our kind,
6762And, surely, Heaven and I are of a mind
6763Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
6764Deep hid the shining mischief under ground:              
6765But when, by man's audacious labour won,
6766Flamed forth this rival to its sire, the Sun,
6767Then careful Heaven supplied two sorts of men,
6768To squander these, and those to hide again.
6769But how unequal it bestows, observe,
6770Tis thus we riot, while who sow it starve:
6771What nature wants a phrase I much distrust
6772Extends to luxury, extends to lust:
6773Useful, I grant, it serves what life requires,
6774But dreadful too, the dark assassin hires.
6775Oh! that such bulky bribes as all might see,
6776Still, as of old, encumber'd villainy!
6777All this is madness,' cries a sober sage:
6778But who, my friend, has reason in his rage?
6779The ruling passion, be it what it will,
6780The ruling passion conquers reason still.
6781Less mad the wildest whimsy we can frame,
6782Than even that passion, if it has no aim;
6783For though such motives folly you may call,
6784The folly's greater to have none at all.
6785Hear, then, the truth: 'Tis Heaven each passion sends,
6786And different men directs to different ends.            
6787Extremes in Nature equal good produce,
6788Extremes in man concur to general use.
6789Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
6790That Power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
6791Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain,
6792Through reconciled extremes of drought and rain.
6793Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
6794And gives the eternal wheels to know their rounds.
6795Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie,
6796Wait but for wings, and in their season fly.            
6797Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
6798Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
6799This year a reservoir, to keep and spare;
6800The next a fountain, spouting through his heir,
6801In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst,
6802And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
6803Not so his son; he mark'd this oversight,
6804And then mistook reverse of wrong for right.
6805For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
6806But what to follow, is a task indeed.                  
6807Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise,
6808More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise.
6809What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
6810Fill the capacious squire, and deep divine!
6811Yet no mean motive this profusion draws,
6812His oxen perish in his country's cause;
6813Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup,
6814And zeal for that great house which eats him up.
6815The woods recede around the naked seat,
6816The silvans groanno matterfor the fleet;            
6817Next goes his woolto clothe our valiant bands,
6818Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands.
6819To town he comes, completes the nation's hope,
6820And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a pope.
6821And shall not Britain now reward his toils,
6822Britain, that pays her patriots with her spoils?
6823In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his cause,
6824His thankless country leaves him to her laws.
6825The sense to value riches, with the art
6826To enjoy them, and the virtue to impart,                
6827Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursued,
6828Not sunk by sloth, nor raised by servitude:
6829To balance fortune by a just expense,
6830Join with economy, magnificence;
6831With splendour, charity; with plenty, health;
6832Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by wealth!
6833That secret rare, between the extremes to move
6834Of mad good-nature and of mean self-love.
6835Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
6836What all so wish, but want the power to do!
6837Oh say, what sums that generous hand supply?
6838What mines, to swell that boundless charity?
6839Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
6840Will never mark the marble with his name:
6841Go, search it there, where to be born and die,
6842Of rich and poor makes all the history;
6843Enough, that virtue fill'd the space between;
6844Proved, by the ends of being, to have been.             
6845When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend
6846The wretch who, living, saved a candle's end:
6847Shouldering God's altar a vile image stands,
6848Belies his features, nay, extends his hands;
6849That live-long wig which Gorgon's self might own,
6850Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.
6851Behold what blessings wealth to life can lend!
6852And see what comfort it affords our end!
6853Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
6854An honest factor stole a gem away:
6855He pledged it to the knight; the knight had wit,
6856So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit.
6857Some scruple rose, but thus he eased his thought
6858I'll now give sixpence where I gave a groat;
6859Where once I went to church, I'll now go twice
6860And am so clear, too, of all other vice.
6861A nymph of quality admires our knight;
6862He marries, bows at court, and grows polite:
6863Leaves the dull cits, and joins to please the fair
6864The well-bred cuckolds in St James's air:
6865First, for his son a gay commission buys,
6866Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies:         
6867His daughter flaunts a viscount's tawdry wife;
6868She bears a coronet and pox for life.
6869In Britain's senate he a seat obtains,
6870And one more pensioner St Stephen gains.
6871My lady falls to play; so bad her chance,
6872He must repair it; takes a bribe from France;
6873The House impeach him; Coningsby harangues;
6874The court forsake himand Sir Balaam hangs:
6875Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
6876His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown:           
6877The devil and the king divide the prize,
6878And sad Sir Balaam curses God, and dies.
6879You show us, Rome was glorious, not profuse,
6880And pompous buildings once were things of use.
6881Yet shall my lord your just, your noble rules
6882Fill half the land with imitating fools,
6883Who random drawings from your sheets shall take,
6884And of one beauty many blunders make;
6885Load some vain church with old theatric state,
6886Turn arcs of triumph to a garden-gate;                   
6887Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all
6888On some patch'd dog-hole eked with ends of wall;
6889Then clap four slices of pilaster on't,
6890That, laced with bits of rustic, makes a front.
6891Shall call the winds through long arcades to roar,
6892Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
6893Conscious they act a true Palladian part.
6894And if they starve, they starve by rules of art.
6895To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
6896To rear the column, or the arch to bend,
6897To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot;
6898In all, let Nature never be forgot.                      
6899But treat the goddess like a modest fair,
6900Nor overdress, nor leave her wholly bare;
6901Let not each beauty everywhere be spied,
6902Where half the skill is decently to hide.
6903He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds,
6904Surprises, varies, and conceals the bounds.
6905Consult the genius of the place in all;
6906That tells the waters or to rise, or fall;
6907Or helps the ambitious hill the heavens to scale,
6908Or scoops in circling theatres the vale;                 
6909Calls in the country, catches opening glades,
6910Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades;
6911Now breaks, or now directs, the intending lines;
6912Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
6913His son's fine taste an opener vista loves,
6914Foe to the Dryads of his father's groves;
6915One boundless green, or flourish'd carpet views,
6916With all the mournful family of yews;
6917The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks made,
6918Now sweep those alleys they were born to shade.
6919My lord advances with majestic mien,
6920Smit with the mighty pleasure, to be seen:
6921But softby regular approachnot yet
6922First through the length of yon hot terrace sweat;      
6923And when up ten steep slopes you've dragg'd your thighs,
6924Just at his study-door he'll bless your eyes.
6925His study! with what authors is it stored?
6926In books, not authors, curious is my lord;
6927To all their dated backs he turns you round:
6928These Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has bound.
6929Lo! some are vellum, and the rest as good
6930For all his lordship knows, but they are wood.
6931For Locke or Milton tis in vain to look,               
6932These shelves admit not any modern book.
6933And now the chapel's silver bell you hear,
6934That summons you to all the pride of prayer:
6935Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,
6936Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven.
6937On painted ceilings you devoutly stare,
6938Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre,
6939On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie,
6940And bring all Paradise before your eye.
6941To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite,
6942Who never mentions hell to ears polite.             
6943But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner call;
6944A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall:
6945The rich buffet well-colour'd serpents grace,
6946And gaping Tritons spew to wash your face.
6947Is this a dinner? this a genial room?
6948No, tis a temple, and a hecatomb.
6949A solemn sacrifice, perform'd in state,
6950You drink by measure, and to minutes eat.
6951So quick retires each flying course, you'd swear
6952Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were there.      
6953Between each act the trembling salvers ring,
6954From soup to sweet-vine, and God bless the king.
6955In plenty starving, tantalised in state,
6956And complaisantly help'd to all I hate,
6957Treated, caress'd, and tired, I take my leave,
6958Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve;
6959I curse such lavish cost, and little skill,
6960And swear no day was ever pass'd so ill.
6961Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hungry fed;
6962Health to himself, and to his infants bread             
6963The labourer bears: what his hard heart denies,
6964His charitable vanity supplies.
6965Another age shall see the golden ear
6966Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre,
6967Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd,
6968And laughing Ceres reassume the land.
6969Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil?
6970Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle.
6971Tis use alone that sanctifies expense,
6972And splendour borrows all her rays from sense.          
6973His father's acres who enjoys in peace,
6974Or makes his neighbours glad, if he increase:
6975Whose cheerful tenants bless their yearly toil,
6976Yet to their lord owe more than to the soil;
6977Whose ample lawns are not ashamed to feed
6978The milky heifer and deserving steed;
6979Whose rising forests, not for pride or show,
6980But future buildings, future navies, grow:
6981Let his plantations stretch from down to down,
6982First shade a country, and then raise a town.           
6983You, too, proceed! make falling arts your care,
6984Erect new wonders, and the old repair;
6985Jones and Palladio to themselves restore,
6986And be whate'er Vitruvius was before:
6987Till kings call forth the ideas of your mind,
6988Proud to accomplish what such hands design'd.
6989Bid harbours open, public ways extend,
6990Bid temples, worthier of the god, ascend;
6991Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain,
6992The mole projected break the roaring main;              
6993Back to his bonds their subject sea command,
6994And roll obedient rivers through the land;
6995These honours, peace to happy Britain brings,
6996These are imperial works, and worthy kings.
6997See the wild waste of all-devouring years!
6998How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears,
6999With nodding arches, broken temples spread!
7000The very tombs now vanish'd, like their dead!
7001Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil'd
7002Where mix'd with slaves the groaning martyr toil'd:
7003Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods,
7004Now drain'd a distant country of her floods:
7005Fanes, which admiring gods with pride survey,
7006Statues of men, scarce less alive than they!             
7007Some felt the silent stroke of mouldering age,
7008Some hostile fury, some religious rage,
7009Barbarian blindness, Christian zeal conspire,
7010And Papal piety, and Gothic fire.
7011Perhaps, by its own ruins saved from flame,
7012Some buried marble half-preserves a name;
7013That name the learn'd with fierce disputes pursue,
7014And give to Titus old Vespasian's due.
7015Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to trust
7016The faithless column, and the crumbling bust:            
7017Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to shore,
7018Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more!
7019Convinced, she now contracts her vast design,
7020And all her triumphs shrink into a coin.
7021A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps,
7022Beneath her palm, here sad Juda weeps.
7023Now scantier limits the proud arch confine,
7024And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine;
7025A small Euphrates through the piece is roll'd,
7026And little eagles wave their wings in gold.              
7027The medal, faithful to its charge of fame,
7028Through climes and ages bears each form and name:
7029In one short view subjected to our eye
7030Gods, emperors, heroes, sages, beauties, lie.
7031With sharpen'd sight, pale antiquaries pore,
7032The inscription value, but the rust adore.
7033This the blue varnish, that the green endears,
7034The sacred rust of twice ten hundred years!
7035To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes,
7036One grasps a Cecrops in ecstatic dreams.                 
7037Poor Vadius, long with learned spleen devour'd.
7038Can taste no pleasure since his shield was scour'd:
7039And Curio, restless by the fair one's side,
7040Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.
7041Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine:
7042Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine;
7043Her gods, and god-like heroes rise to view,
7044And all her faded garlands bloom anew.
7045Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage;
7046These pleased the fathers of poetic rage;                
7047The verse and sculpture bore an equal part,
7048And Art reflected images to Art.
7049Oh! when shall Britain, conscious of her claim,
7050Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
7051In living medals see her wars enroll'd,
7052And vanquish'd realms supply recording gold?
7053Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face;
7054There, warriors frowning in historic brass:
7055Then future ages with delight shall see
7056How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree;              
7057Or in fair series laurell'd bards be shown,
7058A Virgil there, and here an Addison.
7059Then shall thy Craggs and let me call him mine
7060On the cast ore, another Pollio, shine;
7061With aspect open, shall erect his head,
7062And round the orb in lasting notes be read,
7063Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
7064In action faithful, and in honour clear;
7065Who broke no promise, served no private end,
7066Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend;             
7067Ennobled by himself, by all approved,
7068And praised, unenvied, by the Muse he loved.
7069Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command,
7070Can Phaon's eyes forget her Sappho's hand?
7071Must then her name the wretched writer prove,
7072To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love?
7073Ask not the cause that I new numbers choose,
7074The lute neglected and the lyric Muse;
7075Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow,
7076And tuned my heart to elegies of woe,
7077I burn, I burn, as when through ripen'd corn
7078By driving winds the spreading flames are borne!         
7079Phaon to Aetna's scorching fields retires,
7080While I consume with more than Aetna's fires!
7081No more my soul a charm in music finds;
7082Music has charms alone for peaceful minds.
7083Soft scenes of solitude no more can please;
7084Love enters there, and I'm my own disease.
7085No more the Lesbian dames my passion move,
7086Once the dear objects of my guilty love;
7087All other loves are lost in only thine,
7088Ah, youth ungrateful to a flame like mine!               
7089Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise,
7090Those heavenly looks, and dear deluding eyes!
7091Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares employ,
7092Once in her arms you centred all your joy:               
7093No time the dear remembrance can remove,
7094For, oh! how vast a memory has love!
7095My music, then, you could for ever hear,
7096And all my words were music to your ear.
7097You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting tongue,
7098And found my kisses sweeter than my song,
7099In all I pleased, but most in what was best;
7100And the last joy was dearer than the rest.
7101Then with each word, each glance, each motion fired,
7102You still enjoy'd, and yet you still desired,            
7103Till, all dissolving, in the trance we lay,
7104And in tumultuous raptures died away.
7105The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame;
7106Why was I born, ye gods, a Lesbian dame?
7107But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs! nor boast
7108That wandering heart which I so lately lost;
7109Nor be with all those tempting words abused,
7110Those tempting words were all to Sappho used.
7111And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains,
7112Have pity, Venus, on your poet's pains!                  
7113Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run,
7114And still increase the woes so soon begun?
7115Inured to sorrow from my tender years,
7116My parents' ashes drank my early tears:
7117My brother next, neglecting wealth and fame,
7118Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame:
7119An infant daughter late my griefs increased,
7120And all a mother's cares distract my breast,
7121Alas! what more could Fate itself impose,
7122But thee, the last, and greatest of my woes?             
7123No more my robes in waving purple flow,
7124Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds glow;
7125No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse
7126The costly sweetness of Arabian dews,
7127Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind,
7128That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind:
7129For whom should Sappho use such arts as these?
7130He's gone, whom only she desired to please!
7131Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move;
7132Still is there cause for Sappho still to love:           
7133So from my birth the Sisters fix'd my doom,
7134And gave to Venus all my life to come;
7135Or, while my Muse in melting notes complains,
7136My yielding heart keeps measure to my strains.
7137By charms like thine, which all my soul have won,
7138Who might notah! who would not be undone?
7139For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn,
7140And with fresh blushes paint the conscious morn.
7141For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's sleep;
7142And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep;                
7143Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies;
7144But Mars on thee might look with Venus' eyes.
7145Oh scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy!
7146Oh useful time for lovers to employ!
7147Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race,
7148Come to these arms, and melt in this embrace!
7149The vows you never will return, receive;
7150And take, at least, the love you will not give.
7151See, while I write, my words are lost in tears!
7152The less my sense, the more my love appears.            
7153Sure twas not much to bid one kind adieu,
7154At least to feign was never hard to you
7155Farewell, my Lesbian love,' you might have said;
7156Or coldly thus, Farewell, O Lesbian maid!
7157No tear did you, no parting kiss receive,
7158Nor knew I then how much I was to grieve.
7159No lover's gift your Sappho could confer,
7160And wrongs and woes were all you left with her.
7161No charge I gave you, and no charge could give,
7162But this, Be mindful of our loves, and live.'          
7163Now by the Nine, those powers adored by me,
7164And Love, the god that ever waits on thee,
7165When first I heard from whom I hardly knew
7166That you were fled, and all my joys with you,
7167Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I stood,
7168Grief chill'd my breast, and stopp'd my freezing blood;
7169No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow,
7170Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe:
7171But when its way the impetuous passion found,
7172I rend my tresses, and my breast I wound:               
7173I rave, then weep; I curse, and then complain;
7174Now swell to rage, now melt in tears again.
7175Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful dame,
7176Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral flame.
7177My scornful brother with a smile appears,
7178Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears;
7179His hated image ever haunts my eyes;
7180And why this grief? thy daughter lives!' he cries.
7181Stung with my love, and furious with despair,
7182All torn my garments, and my bosom bare,                
7183My woes, thy crimes, I to the world proclaim;
7184Such inconsistent things are love and shame!
7185Tis thou art all my care and my delight,
7186My daily longing, and my dream by night;
7187Oh night more pleasing than the brightest day,
7188When fancy gives what absence takes away,
7189And, dress'd in all its visionary charms,
7190Restores my fair deserter to my arms!
7191Then round your neck in wanton wreaths I twine,
7192Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine:              
7193A thousand tender words I hear and speak;
7194A thousand melting kisses give and take:
7195Then fiercer joys, I blush to mention these,
7196Yet, while I blush, confess how much they please.
7197But when, with day, the sweet delusions fly,
7198And all things wake to life and joy but I,
7199As if once more forsaken, I complain,
7200And close my eyes to dream of you again:
7201Then frantic rise, and like some Fury rove
7202Through lonely plains, and through the silent grove;    
7203As if the silent grove, and lonely plains,
7204That knew my pleasures, could relieve my pains.
7205I view the grotto, once the scene of love,
7206The rocks around, the hanging roofs above,
7207That charm'd me more, with native moss o'ergrown,
7208Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian stone;
7209I find the shades that veil'd our joys before;
7210But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no more.
7211Here the press'd herbs with bending tops betray
7212Where oft entwined in amorous folds we lay;             
7213I kiss that earth which once was press'd by you,
7214And all with tears the withering herbs bedew.
7215For thee the fading trees appear to mourn,
7216And birds defer their songs till thy return:
7217Night shades the groves, and all in silence lie,
7218All but the mournful Philomel and I:
7219With mournful Philomel I join my strain,
7220Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain.
7221A spring there is, whose silver waters show,
7222Clear as a glass, the shining sands below:              
7223A flowery lotus spreads its arms above,
7224Shades all the banks, and seems itself a grove;
7225Eternal greens the mossy margin grace,
7226Watch'd by the sylvan genius of the place.
7227Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the flood,
7228Before my sight a watery virgin stood:
7229She stood and cried, O you that love in vain!
7230Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian main;
7231There stands a rock, from whose impending steep
7232Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep;                 
7233There injured lovers, leaping from above,
7234Their flames extinguish, and forget to love.
7235Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd,
7236In vain he loved, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd:
7237But when from hence he plunged into the main,
7238Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha loved in vain.
7239Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia throw
7240Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps below!
7241She spoke, and vanish'd with the voiceI rise,
7242And silent tears fall trickling from my eyes.           
7243I go, ye nymphs! those rocks and seas to prove;
7244How much I fear, but ah, how much I love!
7245I go, ye nymphs! where furious love inspires:
7246Let female fears submit to female fires.
7247To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate,
7248And hope from seas and rocks a milder fate.
7249Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
7250And softly lay me on the waves below!
7251And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs sustain,
7252Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er the main,       
7253Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood profane!
7254On Phoebus' shrine my harp I'll then bestow,
7255And this inscription shall be placed below:
7256Here she who sung, to him that did inspire,
7257Sappho to Phoebus consecrates her lyre;
7258What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with thee:
7259The gift, the giver, and the god agree.
7260But why, alas! relentless youth, ah, why
7261To distant seas must tender Sappho fly?
7262Thy charms than those may far more powerful be,         
7263And Phoebus' self is less a god to me.
7264Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and sea,
7265Oh far more faithless and more hard than they?
7266Ah! canst thou rather see this tender breast
7267Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bosom press'd?
7268This breast which once, in vain, you liked so well;
7269Where the Loves play'd, and where the Muses dwell.
7270Alas! the Muses now no more inspire;
7271Untuned my lute, and silent is my lyre.
7272My languid numbers have forgot to flow,                 
7273And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe.
7274Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames,
7275Themes of my verse, and objects of my flames,
7276No more your groves with my glad songs shall ring,
7277No more these hands shall touch the trembling string:
7278My Phaon's fled, and I those arts resign;
7279Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon mine!
7280Return, fair youth! return, and bring along
7281Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song:
7282Absent from thee, the poet's flame expires;             
7283But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires?
7284Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers move
7285One savage heart, or teach it how to love?
7286The winds my prayers, my sighs, my numbers bear,
7287The flying winds have lost them all in air!
7288Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales
7289To these fond eyes restore thy welcome sails?
7290If you returnah, why these long delays?
7291Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon stays.
7292Oh launch thy bark, nor fear the watery plain;          
7293Venus for thee shall smooth her native main.
7294Oh launch thy bark, secure of prosperous gales;
7295Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling sails.
7296If you will fly yet ah! what cause can be,
7297Too cruel youth, that you should fly from me?
7298If not from Phaon I must hope for ease,
7299Ah, let me seek it from the raging seas:
7300To raging seas unpitied I'll remove,
7301And either cease to live, or cease to love!
7302A lake there was with shelving banks around,
7303Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd.
7304These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought,
7305And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought:
7306Her smiling babe a pleasing charge she press'd
7307Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast.            
7308Not distant far, a watery lotus grows;
7309The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs,
7310Adorn'd with blossoms, promised fruits that vie
7311In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye:
7312Of these she cropp'd, to please her infant son,
7313And I myself the same rash act had done:
7314But, lo! I saw as near her side I stood
7315The violated blossoms drop with blood;
7316Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;
7317The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.
7318This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight,
7319My trembling sister strove to urge her flight;
7320And first the pardon of the nymphs implored,
7321And those offended sylvan powers adored:
7322But when she backward would have fled, she found
7323Her stiffening feet were rooted in the ground:           
7324In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove,
7325And as she struggles only moves above;
7326She feels th' encroaching bark around her grow
7327By quick degrees, and cover all below:
7328Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves
7329To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves:
7330Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen
7331To rise, and shade her with a sudden green.
7332The child Amphissus, to her bosom press'd,
7333Perceived a colder and a harder breast,                  
7334And found the springs, that ne'er till then denied
7335Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried.
7336I saw, unhappy! what I now relate,
7337And stood the helpless witness of thy fate;
7338Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd,
7339There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade.
7340Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew,
7341And close embrace as to the roots they grew.
7342The face was all that now remain'd of thee,
7343No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;
7344Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear,
7345From every leaf distils a trickling tear;
7346And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains,
7347Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs complains:
7348f to the wretched any faith be given,
7349I swear by all th' unpitying powers of Heaven,           
7350No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred;
7351In mutual innocence our lives we led:
7352If this be false, let these new greens decay,
7353Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,
7354And crackling flames on all my honours prey.
7355But from my branching arms this infant bear,
7356Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care:
7357And to his mother let him oft be led,
7358Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed:
7359Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame       
7360Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name,
7361To hail this tree, and say, with weeping eyes,
7362Within this plant my hapless parent lies:
7363And when in youth he seeks the shady woods,
7364Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods,
7365Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn'd by me,
7366Believe a goddess shrined in every tree.
7367My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell!
7368If in your breasts or love or pity dwell,
7369Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel             
7370The browsing cattle or the piercing steel.
7371Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join
7372My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.
7373My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,
7374While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.
7375I can no more; the creeping rind invades
7376My closing lips, and hides my head in shades:
7377Remove your hands, the bark shall soon suffice
7378Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.
7379he ceased at once to speak and ceased to be,          
7380And all the nymph was lost within the tree;
7381Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd,
7382And long the plant a human heat retain'd.
7383Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain
7384O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain:
7385Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid,
7386And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples shade:
7387Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears,
7388Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers:
7389Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines,
7390And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines:
7391Now gathering what the bounteous year allows,
7392He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs:            
7393A soldier now, he with his sword appears;
7394A fisher next, his trembling angle bears:
7395Each shape he varies, and each art he tries,
7396On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes.
7397A female form at last Vertumnus wears,
7398With all the marks of reverend age appears,
7399His temples thinly spread with silver hairs:
7400Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes,
7401A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows.
7402The god in this decrepid form array'd                    
7403The gardens enter'd, and the fruit survey'd;
7404And, Happy you!' he thus address'd the maid,
7405Whose charms as far all other nymphs outshine,
7406As other gardens are excell'd by thine!
7407Then kiss'd the fair; his kisses warmer grow
7408Than such as women on their sex bestow
7409Then, placed beside her on the flowery ground,
7410Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd.
7411An elm was near, to whose embraces led,
7412The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:           
7413He view'd her twining branches with delight,
7414And praised the beauty of the pleasing sight.
7415Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,' he said,
7416Had stood neglected, and a barren shade;
7417And this fair vine, but that her arms surround
7418Her married elm, had crept along the ground.
7419Ah, beauteous maid! let this example move
7420Your mind, averse from all the joys of love.
7421Deign to be loved, and every heart subdue!
7422What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you?        
7423Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur's arms,
7424Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms.
7425Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they gain,
7426A thousand court you, though they court in vain
7427A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
7428That haunt our mountains and our Alban woods.
7429But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
7430Whom age and long experience render wise,
7431And one whose tender care is far above
7432All that these lovers ever felt of love,                 
7433Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd
7434Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest:
7435For his firm faith I dare engage my own:
7436Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
7437To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
7438Like you, contented with his native groves;
7439Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair:
7440For you he lives; and you alone shall share
7441His last affection, as his early care.
7442Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,                 
7443With youth immortal, and with beauty bless'd.
7444Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
7445And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
7446But what should most excite a mutual flame,
7447Your rural cares and pleasures are the same.
7448To him your orchard's early fruits are due;
7449A pleasing offering when tis made by you
7450He values these; but yet, alas! complains
7451That still the best and dearest gift remains.
7452Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows           
7453With that ripe red th' autumnal sun bestows;
7454Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
7455Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies;
7456You, only you, can move the god's desire:
7457Oh crown so constant and so pure a fire!
7458Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind:
7459Think, tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind:
7460So may no frost, when early buds appear,
7461Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
7462Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,        
7463Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs!
7464This, when the various god had urged in vain,
7465He straight assumed his native form again:
7466Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
7467As when through clouds th' emerging sun appears,
7468And thence exerting his refulgent ray,
7469Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
7470Force he prepared, but check'd the rash design;
7471For when, appearing in a form divine,
7472The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace            
7473Of charming features and a youthful face,
7474In her soft breast consenting passions move,
7475And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.
7476But wave whate'er to Cadmus may belong,
7477And fix, O Muse! the barrier of thy song                 
7478At Oedipusfrom his disasters trace
7479The long confusions of his guilty race:
7480Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder wing,
7481And mighty Caesar's conquering eagles sing;
7482How twice he tamed proud Ister's rapid flood,
7483While Dacian mountains stream'd with barbarous blood;
7484Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws to roll,
7485And stretch'd his empire to the frozen pole;
7486Or, long before, with early valour strove
7487In youthful arms t' assert the cause of Jove.            
7488And thou, great heir of all thy father's fame,
7489Increase of glory to the Latian name!
7490Oh! bless thy Rome with an eternal reign,
7491Nor let desiring worlds entreat in vain.
7492What though the stars contract their heavenly space,
7493And crowd their shining ranks to yield thee place;
7494Though all the skies, ambitious of thy sway,
7495Conspire to court thee from our world away;
7496Though Phoebus longs to mix his rays with thine,
7497And in thy glories more serenely shine;                  
7498Though Jove himself no less content would be
7499To part his throne, and share his heaven with thee:
7500Yet stay, great Csar! and vouchsafe to reign
7501O'er the wide earth, and o'er the watery main;
7502Resign to Jove his empire of the skies,
7503And people heaven with Roman deities.
7504Now wretched Oedipus, deprived of sight,
7505Led a long death in everlasting night;                   
7506But while he dwells where not a cheerful ray
7507Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the day,
7508The clear reflecting mind presents his sin
7509In frightful views, and makes it day within;
7510Returning thoughts in endless circles roll,
7511And thousand Furies haunt his guilty soul:
7512The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies
7513Those empty orbs from whence he tore his eyes,
7514Whose wounds, yet fresh, with bloody hands he strook,
7515While from his breast these dreadful accents broke: 
7516Stung to the soul, the brothers start from rest,
7517And all their Furies wake within their breast:
7518Their tortured minds repining Envy tears,
7519And Hate, engender'd by suspicious fears:
7520And sacred thirst of sway, and all the ties
7521Of nature broke; and royal perjuries;
7522And impotent desire to reign alone,                     
7523That scorns the dull reversion of a throne:
7524Each would the sweets of sovereign rule devour,
7525While Discord waits upon divided power.
7526Yet then no proud aspiring piles were raised,           
7527No fretted roofs with polish'd metals blazed;
7528No labour'd columns in long order placed,
7529No Grecian stone the pompous arches graced:
7530No nightly bands in glittering armour wait
7531Before the sleepless tyrant's guarded gate;
7532No chargers then were wrought in burnish'd gold,
7533Nor silver vases took the forming mould;
7534Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to shine,
7535Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the wine
7536Say, wretched rivals! what provokes your rage?          
7537Say, to what end your impious arms engage?
7538Not all bright Phoebus views in early morn,
7539Or when his evening beams the west adorn,
7540When the south glows with his meridian ray,
7541And the cold north receives a fainter day;
7542For crimes like these, not all those realms suffice,
7543Were all those realms the guilty victor's prize!
7544But Fortune now the lots of empire thrown
7545Decrees to proud Eteocles the crown:
7546What joys, O tyrant! swell'd thy soul that day,         
7547When all were slaves thou couldst around survey,
7548Pleased to behold unbounded power thy own,
7549And singly fill a fear'd and envied throne!
7550But the vile vulgar, ever discontent,
7551Their growing fears in secret murmurs vent;
7552Still prone to change, though still the slaves of state,
7553And sure the monarch whom they have, to hate;
7554New lords they madly make, then tamely bear,
7555And softly curse the tyrants whom they fear.
7556And one of those who groan beneath the sway             
7557Of kings imposed, and grudgingly obey,
7558Whom envy to the great, and vulgar spite,
7559With scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's delight
7560Exclaim'd'O Thebes! for thee what fates remain,
7561What woes attend this inauspicious reign?
7562Must we, alas! our doubtful necks prepare
7563Each haughty master's yoke by turns to bear,
7564And still to change whom changed we still must fear?
7565These now control a wretched people's fate
7566These can divide, and these reverse the state:          
7567E'en fortune rules no moreO servile land,
7568Where exiled tyrants still by turns command!
7569Thou sire of gods and men, imperial Jove!
7570Is this th' eternal doom decreed above?
7571On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this fate
7572From the first birth of our unhappy state.
7573As when two winds with rival force contend,
7574This way and that the wavering sails they bend,
7575While freezing Boreas and black Eurus blow,
7576Now here, now there, the reeling vessel throw;
7577Thus on each side, alas! our tottering state
7578Feels all the fury of resistless fate,                  
7579And doubtful still, and still distracted stands,
7580While that prince threatens, and while this commands.
7581And now th' almighty Father of the gods
7582Convenes a council in the bless'd abodes.
7583Far in the bright recesses of the skies,
7584High o'er the rolling heavens, a mansion lies,
7585Whence, far below, the gods at once survey
7586The realms of rising and declining day,
7587And all th' extended space of earth, and air, and sea.
7588Full in the midst, and on a starry throne,              
7589The Majesty of heaven superior shone:
7590Serene he look'd, and gave an awful nod,
7591And all the trembling spheres confess'd the god.
7592At Jove's assent the deities around
7593In solemn state the consistory crown'd.
7594Next a long order of inferior powers
7595Ascend from hills, and plains, and shady bowers;
7596Those from whose urns the rolling rivers flow,
7597And those that give the wandering winds to blow:
7598Here all their rage and ev'n their murmurs cease,       
7599And sacred silence reigns, and universal peace.
7600A shining synod of majestic gods
7601Gilds with new lustre the divine abodes:
7602Heaven seems improved with a superior ray,
7603And the bright arch reflects a double day.
7604The monarch then his solemn silence broke,
7605The still creation listen'd while he spoke;
7606Each sacred accent bears eternal weight,
7607And each irrevocable word is fate.
7608How long shall man the wrath of Heaven defy,           
7609And force unwilling vengeance from the sky?
7610The god obeys, and to his feet applies
7611Those golden wings that cut the yielding skies;         
7612His ample hat his beamy locks o'erspread,
7613And veil'd the starry glories of his head.
7614He seized the wand that causes sleep to fly,
7615Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye;
7616That drives the dead to dark Tartarean coasts,
7617Or back to life compels the wandering ghosts.
7618Thus through the parting clouds the son of May
7619Wings on the whistling winds his rapid way;
7620Now smoothly steers through air his equal flight,
7621Now springs aloft, and towers th' ethereal height:      
7622Then wheeling down the steep of heaven he flies,
7623And draws a radiant circle o'er the skies.
7624Thus strove the chief, on every side distress'd;
7625Thus still his courage with his toils increased:
7626With his broad shield opposed, he forced his way
7627Through thickest woods, and roused the beasts of prey
7628Till he beheld, where from Larissa's height,            
7629The shelving walls reflect a glancing light:
7630Thither with haste the Theban hero flies;
7631On this side Lerna's poisonous water lies,
7632On that Prosymna's grove and temple rise:
7633He pass'd the gates which then unguarded lay,
7634And to the regal palace bent his way;
7635On the cold marble, spent with toil, he lies,
7636And waits till pleasing slumbers seal his eyes.
7637Struck with the sight, and fix'd in deep amaze,
7638The king th' accomplish'd oracle surveys,
7639Reveres Apollo's vocal caves, and owns
7640The guiding godhead, and his future sons.
7641O'er all his bosom secret transports reign,
7642And a glad horror shoots through every vein:            
7643To heaven he lifts his hands, erects his sight,
7644And thus invokes the silent queen of night:
7645Goddess of shades! beneath whose gloomy reign
7646Yon spangled arch glows with the starry train;
7647You who the cares of heaven and earth allay
7648Till nature, quicken'd by th' inspiring ray,
7649Wakes to new vigour with the rising day:
7650O thou who freest me from my doubtful state,
7651Long lost and wilder'd in the maze of fate,
7652Be present still, O goddess! in our aid;                
7653Proceed, and firm those omens thou hast made.
7654We to thy name our annual rites will pay,
7655And on thy altars sacrifices lay;
7656The sable flock shall fall beneath the stroke,
7657And fill thy temples with a grateful smoke.
7658Thus, seized with sacred fear, the monarch pray'd;
7659Then to his inner court the guests convey'd,
7660Where yet thin fumes from dying sparks arise,           
7661And dust yet white upon each altar lies,
7662The relics of a former sacrifice.
7663The king once more the solemn rites requires,
7664And bids renew the feasts and wake the fires.
7665His train obey; while all the courts around
7666With noisy care and various tumult sound.
7667Embroider'd purple clothes the golden beds;
7668This slave the floor, and that the table spreads;
7669A third dispels the darkness of the night,
7670And fills depending lamps with beams of light;          
7671Here loaves in canisters are piled on high,
7672And there in flames the slaughter'd victims fly.
7673The banquet done, the monarch gives the sign
7674To fill the goblet high with sparkling wine,
7675Which Danaus used in sacred rites of old,
7676With sculpture graced, and rough with rising gold:
7677Here to the clouds victorious Perseus flies,
7678Medusa seems to move her languid eyes,
7679And, e'en in gold, turns paler as she dies.
7680How mean a fate, unhappy child! is thine!
7681Ah! how unworthy those of race divine!
7682On flowery herbs in some green covert laid,
7683His bed the ground, his canopy the shade,
7684He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries,
7685While the rude swain his rural music tries,
7686To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes.               
7687Yet ev'n in those obscure abodes to live
7688Was more, alas! than cruel fate would give;
7689For on the grassy verdure as he lay,
7690And breathed the freshness of the early day,
7691Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore,
7692Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore.
7693Th' astonish'd mother, when the rumour came,
7694Forgets her father, and neglects her fame;
7695With loud complaints she fills the yielding air,
7696And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair;       
7697Then, wild with anguish, to her sire she flies,
7698Demands the sentence, and contented dies.
7699But, touch'd with sorrow for the deed too late,
7700The raging god prepares t' avenge her fate.
7701He sends a monster horrible and fell,
7702Begot by Furies in the depths of hell.
7703The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears;
7704High on her crown a rising snake appears,
7705Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs:
7706About the realm she walks her dreadful round,           
7707When Night with sable wings o'erspreads the ground,
7708Devours young babes before their parents' eyes,
7709And feeds and thrives on public miseries.
7710Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame
7711Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name,
7712Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave,
7713In such a cause disdained thy life to save,
7714But view'd the shrine with a superior look,
7715And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke:
7716With piety, the soul's securest guard,
7717And conscious virtue, still its own reward,
7718Willing I come, unknowing how to fear,
7719Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant here:         
7720Thy monster's death to me was owed alone,
7721And tis a deed too glorious to disown.
7722Behold him here, for whom, so many days,
7723Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays;
7724For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care,
7725Such numbers fell by pestilential air!
7726But if th' abandon'd race of human kind
7727From gods above no more compassion find;
7728If such inclemency in heaven can dwell,
7729Yet why must unoffending Argos feel                     
7730The vengeance due to this unlucky steel?
7731On me, on me, let all thy fury fall,
7732Nor err from me, since I deserve it all:
7733Unless our desert cities please thy sight,
7734Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light.
7735Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend,
7736And to the shades a ghost triumphant send;
7737But for my country let my fate atone;
7738Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own!
7739There lived in Lombardy, as authors write,
7740In days of old, a wise and worthy knight;
7741Of gentle manners, as of generous race,
7742Bless'd with much sense, more riches, and some grace:
7743Yet, led astray by Venus' soft delights,
7744He scarce could rule some idle appetites:
7745For long ago, let priests say what they could,
7746Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and blood.
7747But in due time, when sixty years were o'er,
7748He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more;              
7749Whether pure holiness inspired his mind,
7750Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find;
7751But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed,
7752And try the pleasures of a lawful bed.
7753This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
7754And to the heavenly powers his constant prayer,
7755Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful life
7756Of a kind husband and a loving wife.
7757These thoughts he fortified with reasons still
7758For none want reasons to confirm their will.           
7759Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,
7760That honest wedlock is a glorious thing:
7761But depth of judgment most in him appears
7762Who wisely weds in his maturer years.
7763Then let him choose a damsel young and fair,
7764To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;
7765To soothe his cares, and, free from noise and strife,
7766Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
7767Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore,
7768Full well they merit all they feel, and more:            
7769Unawed by precepts, human or divine,
7770Like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join;
7771Nor know to make the present blessing last,
7772To hope the future, or esteem the past:
7773But vainly boast the joys they never tried,
7774And find divulged the secrets they would hide.
7775The married man may bear his yoke with ease,
7776Secure at once himself and Heaven to please;
7777And pass his inoffensive hours away,
7778In bliss all night, and innocence all day:               
7779Though fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
7780Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
7781But what so pure which envious tongues will spare?
7782Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair.
7783With matchless impudence they style a wife
7784The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life;
7785A bosom serpent, a domestic evil,
7786A night invasion, and a midday devil.
7787Let not the wise these slanderous words regard,
7788But curse the bones of every lying bard.                 
7789All other goods by fortune's hand are given,
7790A wife is the peculiar gift of Heaven.
7791Vain fortune's favours, never at a stay,
7792Like empty shadows, pass, and glide away;
7793One solid comfort, our eternal wife,
7794Abundantly supplies us all our life:
7795This blessing lasts if those who try say true
7796As long as heart can wishand longer too.
7797Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possess'd,
7798Alone, and e'en in Paradise unbless'd,                   
7799With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd,
7800And wander'd in the solitary shade.
7801The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd
7802Woman, the last, the best reserved of God.
7803A wife! ah, gentle deities! can he
7804That has a wife e'er feel adversity?
7805Would men but follow what the sex advise,
7806All things would prosper, all the world grow wise.
7807Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won
7808His father's blessing from an elder son:                 
7809Abusive Nabal owed his forfeit life
7810To the wise conduct of a prudent wife:
7811Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,
7812Preserved the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian foe:
7813At Hester's suit, the persecuting sword
7814Was sheath'd, and Israel lived to bless the Lord.
7815These weighty motives January the sage
7816Maturely ponder'd in his riper age;
7817And, charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober life,
7818Would try that Christian comfort, call'd a wife.         
7819His friends were summon'd on a point so nice
7820To pass their judgment, and to give advice;
7821But fix'd before, and well resolved was he;
7822As men that ask advice are wont to be.
7823My friends,' he cried and cast a mournful look
7824Around the room, and sigh'd before he spoke,
7825Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend,
7826And, worn with cares, am hastening to my end:
7827How I have lived, alas! you know too well,
7828In worldly follies which I blush to tell,                
7829But gracious Heaven has oped my eyes at last,
7830With due regret I view my vices past,
7831And, as the precept of the church decrees,
7832Will take a wife, and live in holy ease:
7833But since by counsel all things should be done,
7834And many heads are wiser still than one;
7835Choose you for me, who best shall be content
7836When my desire's approved by your consent.
7837One caution yet is needful to be told,
7838To guide your choice: this wife must not be old:        
7839There goes a saying, and twas shrewdly said,
7840Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.
7841My soul abhors the tasteless dry embrace
7842Of a stale virgin with a winter face:
7843In that cold season Love but treats his guest
7844With beanstraw, and tough forage at the best.
7845No crafty widows shall approach my bed;
7846Those are too wise for bachelors to wed.
7847As subtle clerks by many schools are made,
7848Twice-married dames are mistresses o' th' trade:        
7849But young and tender virgins, ruled with ease,
7850We form like wax, and mould them as we please.
7851Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss;
7852Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss;
7853Since, if I found no pleasure in my spouse,
7854As flesh is frail, and who God help me knows?
7855Then should I live in lewd adultery,
7856And sink downright to Satan when I die:
7857Or were I cursed with an unfruitful bed,
7858The righteous end were lost for which I wed;            
7859To raise up seed to bless the powers above,
7860And not for pleasure only, or for love.
7861Think not I dote; tis time to take a wife,
7862When vigorous blood forbids a chaster life:
7863Those that are bless'd with store of grace divine,
7864May live like saints, by Heaven's consent and mine!
7865And since I speak of wedlock, let me say
7866As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may,
7867My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart,
7868And a new vigour springs in every part.                 
7869Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed
7870These reverend honours on my hoary head:
7871Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms white as snow,
7872The vital sap then rising from below.
7873Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear
7874Like winter greens, that flourish all the year.
7875Now, sirs, you know to what I stand inclined,
7876Let every friend with freedom speak his mind.
7877He said; the rest in different parts divide;
7878The knotty point was urged on either side:              
7879Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd,
7880Some praised with wit, and some with reason blamed.
7881Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies,
7882Each wondrous positive and wondrous wise,
7883There fell between his brothers a debate:
7884Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that.
7885First to the knight Placebo thus begun,
7886Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone:
7887Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears,
7888As plainly proves experience dwells with years!         
7889Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice,
7890To work by counsel when affairs are nice:
7891But, with the wise man's leave, I must protest,
7892So may my soul arrive at ease and rest,
7893As still I hold your own advice the best.
7894Sir, I have lived a courtier all my days,
7895And studied men, their manners, and their ways;
7896And have observed this useful maxim still.
7897To let my betters always have their will.
7898Nay, if my lord affirm'd that black was white,          
7899My word was this, Your honour's in the right.
7900Th' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise
7901As his mistaken patron to advise,
7902Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought;
7903A noble fool was never in a fault.
7904This, sir, affects not you, whose every word
7905Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a lord:
7906Your will is mine: and is I will maintain
7907Pleasing to God, and should be so to man;
7908At least your courage all the world must praise,        
7909Who dare to wed in your declining days.
7910Indulge the vigour of your mounting blood,
7911And let gray fools be indolently good,
7912Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense,
7913With reverend dulness and grave impotence.
7914Justin, who silent sate, and heard the man,
7915Thus with a philosophic frown began:
7916A heathen author, of the first degree,
7917Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we,
7918Bids us be certain our concerns to trust                
7919To those of generous principles and just.
7920The venture's greater, I'll presume to say,
7921To give your person, than your goods away:
7922And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest,
7923First learn your lady's qualities at least:
7924Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil,
7925Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil;
7926Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool,
7927Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule.
7928Tis true, perfection none must hope to find            
7929In all this world, much less in womankind:
7930But if her virtues prove the larger share,
7931Bless the kind fates, and think your fortune rare.
7932Ah, gentle sir, take warning of a friend,
7933Who knows too well the state you thus commend;
7934And, spite of all his praises, must declare,
7935All he can find is bondage, cost, and care.
7936Heaven knows I shed full many a private tear,
7937And sigh in silence, lest the world should hear;
7938While all my friends applaud my blissful life,          
7939And swear no mortal's happier in a wife;
7940Demure and chaste as any vestal nun,
7941The meekest creature that beholds the sun!
7942But, by th' immortal powers, I feel the pain,
7943And he that smarts has reason to complain.
7944Do what you list, for me; you must be sage,
7945And cautious sure; for wisdom is in age:
7946But at these years to venture on the fair!
7947By Him who made the ocean, earth, and air,
7948To please a wife, when her occasions call,              
7949Would busy the most vigorous of us all.
7950And trust me, sir, the chastest you can choose,
7951Will ask observance, and exact her dues.
7952If what I speak my noble lord offend,
7953My tedious sermon here is at an end. 
7954Tis well, tis wondrous well,' the knight replies,
7955Most worthy kinsman, faith, you're mighty wise!
7956We, sirs, are fools; and must resign the cause
7957To heathenish authors, proverbs, and old saws.
7958He spoke with scorn, and turn'd another way:            
7959What does my friend, my dear Placebo, say?
7960I say,' quoth he, by Heaven, the man's to blame,
7961To slander wives, and wedlock's holy name.