 | Miscellanies In Prose And Verse |  |
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AN ESSAY ON HUMAN LIFE.
Pleasure but cheats us with an empty Name,
Still seems to vary, yet is still the same;
Amusement's all its utmost Skill can boast,
By Use it lessens, and in Thought is lost.
The Youth that riots, and the Age that hoards,
Folly that sacrifices Things to Words;
Pride, Wit, and Beauty in one Taste agree,
'Tis sensual, or 'tis mental Luxury.
Sad State of Nature, doom'd to fruitless Pain,
Something to wish and want, but never gain:
Restless we live, and disappointed die,
Unhappy, tho' we know not how nor why.
Still seems to vary, yet is still the same;
Amusement's all its utmost Skill can boast,
By Use it lessens, and in Thought is lost.
The Youth that riots, and the Age that hoards,
Folly that sacrifices Things to Words;
Pride, Wit, and Beauty in one Taste agree,
'Tis sensual, or 'tis mental Luxury.
Sad State of Nature, doom'd to fruitless Pain,
Something to wish and want, but never gain:
Restless we live, and disappointed die,
Unhappy, tho' we know not how nor why.
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Reason, perhaps may lend her gen'rous Aid;
Reason, which never yet her Trust betray'd:
Let her direct us in the doubtful Strife,
Let her conduct us thro' the Maze of Life.
Is human Reason then from Weakness free?
Partakes she not of our Infirmity?
Can she apply with never-failing Art,
The healing Balsam to the wounded Part?
Correct those Errors, which the Passions cause,
And teach the Will to follow Wisdom's Laws?
Alas! Experience but too plainly shows
That Man can act against the Truth he knows:
By Customs led, or by Allurements won,
Discern that Evil, which he cannot shun.
Whate'er we do, the Motive's much the same,
'Tis Impulse governs, under Reason's Name;
Each eagerly some fav'rite End pursues,
And diff'rent Tempers furnish diff'rent Views.
Reason, which never yet her Trust betray'd:
Let her direct us in the doubtful Strife,
Let her conduct us thro' the Maze of Life.
Is human Reason then from Weakness free?
Partakes she not of our Infirmity?
Can she apply with never-failing Art,
The healing Balsam to the wounded Part?
Correct those Errors, which the Passions cause,
And teach the Will to follow Wisdom's Laws?
Alas! Experience but too plainly shows
That Man can act against the Truth he knows:
By Customs led, or by Allurements won,
Discern that Evil, which he cannot shun.
Whate'er we do, the Motive's much the same,
'Tis Impulse governs, under Reason's Name;
Each eagerly some fav'rite End pursues,
And diff'rent Tempers furnish diff'rent Views.
Is it for Fear of Wrong, or Love of Right,
That Statesmen labour, or that Warriors fight?
T'enrich his Country, does the Sailor brave
The cruel Pirate, and the threat'ning Wave?
In Search of Truth, do learned Sages try,
By certain Rules, to fix Uncertainty?
No! 'tis Desire and Hope that drive them on:
Thus greatest Things for meanest Ends are done.
That Statesmen labour, or that Warriors fight?
T'enrich his Country, does the Sailor brave
The cruel Pirate, and the threat'ning Wave?
In Search of Truth, do learned Sages try,
By certain Rules, to fix Uncertainty?
No! 'tis Desire and Hope that drive them on:
Thus greatest Things for meanest Ends are done.
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Self-Love, howe'er disguis'd, misunderstood,
Howe'er misplac'd, is still the sov'reign Good:
Virtue or Wisdom but the vain Pretence,
These may direct, but Passions influence.
Presumptuous Man! why dost thou boast Free-Will
By Constitution doom'd to Good or Ill?
What feeble Checks are all those studied Rules,
Unpractis'd Lessons of the useless Schools?
Say, can thy Art oppos'd to Nature's Force
Obstruct her Motions, or suspend her Course?
Go, change in Africa their sable Hue,
Or make our Europe bring her Negroes too;
Roll back the Tides, forbid the Streams to flow,
Nor let this Earth returning Seasons know.
Slave to thy self, whilst Lord of all beside,
Surmount thy Weakness, or renounce thy Pride.
Howe'er misplac'd, is still the sov'reign Good:
Virtue or Wisdom but the vain Pretence,
These may direct, but Passions influence.
Presumptuous Man! why dost thou boast Free-Will
By Constitution doom'd to Good or Ill?
What feeble Checks are all those studied Rules,
Unpractis'd Lessons of the useless Schools?
Say, can thy Art oppos'd to Nature's Force
Obstruct her Motions, or suspend her Course?
Go, change in Africa their sable Hue,
Or make our Europe bring her Negroes too;
Roll back the Tides, forbid the Streams to flow,
Nor let this Earth returning Seasons know.
Slave to thy self, whilst Lord of all beside,
Surmount thy Weakness, or renounce thy Pride.
That moving Pow'r which first produc'd the Whole,
To every Thing has fix'd a certain Goal:
Thither all tend, and must their Circles run,
For such the Order when the Whole begun.
To diff'rent Creatures, diff'rent Ranks assign'd,
Man claims the first, as of a nobler Kind;
How just his Claim, what Wisdom must decide?
Reason is his alone, by Reason try'd:
Inferior Creatures silently submit,
'Tis his to talk, and therefore to have Wit.
Thus haughty Greece with Pity view'd Mankind,
She only saw, whilst all the rest were blind.
To every Thing has fix'd a certain Goal:
Thither all tend, and must their Circles run,
For such the Order when the Whole begun.
To diff'rent Creatures, diff'rent Ranks assign'd,
Man claims the first, as of a nobler Kind;
How just his Claim, what Wisdom must decide?
Reason is his alone, by Reason try'd:
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'Tis his to talk, and therefore to have Wit.
Thus haughty Greece with Pity view'd Mankind,
She only saw, whilst all the rest were blind.
Look o'er the wide Creation, see how all
Its several Parts obey the Maker's Call:
The Earth how fertile, and how rich the Sea,
In various Salts, for Nature's Chymistry;
How Air digests, what burning Suns exhale,
And Dews, and Snows, and Rains, by Turns prevail.
Beasts, Birds, and Reptiles, see them all conspire,
To act whate'er their several States require.
But wiser Man disdains this meaner Part,
Nature with him must still give way to Art;
Vain of Conceit, he boasts his fancy'd Skill,
And, arbitrary, rules the World at Will:
Now fierce and cruel, then as mild and kind,
Each Action owing to each Turn of Mind;
One Day a Friend, the next as great a Foe,
As Humour, Pique, Caprice, or Int'rests go;
Wisdom and Folly thus by Turns preside,
And Chance alone incline to either Side.
Its several Parts obey the Maker's Call:
The Earth how fertile, and how rich the Sea,
In various Salts, for Nature's Chymistry;
How Air digests, what burning Suns exhale,
And Dews, and Snows, and Rains, by Turns prevail.
Beasts, Birds, and Reptiles, see them all conspire,
To act whate'er their several States require.
But wiser Man disdains this meaner Part,
Nature with him must still give way to Art;
Vain of Conceit, he boasts his fancy'd Skill,
And, arbitrary, rules the World at Will:
Now fierce and cruel, then as mild and kind,
Each Action owing to each Turn of Mind;
One Day a Friend, the next as great a Foe,
As Humour, Pique, Caprice, or Int'rests go;
Wisdom and Folly thus by Turns preside,
And Chance alone incline to either Side.
Ask the bold Freeman, or the coward Slave,
What makes one abject, and the other brave?
What gives to Fools their Faith, to Knaves their Wiles,
To Cynicks Sow'rness, and to Flatt'rers Smiles?
This one great Truth must stand by all confest,
Some ruling Passion lurks in ev'ry Breast;
That Weakness by a specious Name they call,
But 'tis that Weakness still which governs all.
What makes one abject, and the other brave?
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To Cynicks Sow'rness, and to Flatt'rers Smiles?
This one great Truth must stand by all confest,
Some ruling Passion lurks in ev'ry Breast;
That Weakness by a specious Name they call,
But 'tis that Weakness still which governs all.
Wisely the Springs of Action we conceal,
Thus Sordidness is Prudence, Fury, Zeal;
Ambition makes the Publick Good her Care,
And Hypocrites, the Mask of Saintship wear.
Thus Sordidness is Prudence, Fury, Zeal;
Ambition makes the Publick Good her Care,
And Hypocrites, the Mask of Saintship wear.
Inur'd to Falshood, we ourselves deceive,
Oft what we wish, we fancy, we believe;
We call that Judgment which is only Will,
And as we act, we learn to argue ill;
Like Bigots, who their various Creeds defend
By making Reason still to System bend.
Oft what we wish, we fancy, we believe;
We call that Judgment which is only Will,
And as we act, we learn to argue ill;
Like Bigots, who their various Creeds defend
By making Reason still to System bend.
Customs or Int'rests govern all Mankind,
Some Biass cleaves to the unguarded Mind;
Thro' this, as in a false or flatt'ring Glass,
Things seem to change their Natures as they pass.
Objects the same in diff'rent Lights appear,
And but the Colours which we give 'em wear.
Error and Fraud from this great Source arise,
All Fools are modish, and all Knaves are wise.
Who does not boast some Merit of his own,
Tho' to himself perhaps 'tis only known?
Each suits Rewards to his own fav'rite Vice,
Pride has its Crowns, and Lust its Paradise:
Bonze, Priest and Dervise, all in this agree,
That Heaven must be for Pomp or Luxury;
Man, Slave to Sense no higher Bliss can know,
Still measures Things above by Things below.
Joys much the same, but differ in Degree,
As Time enlarg'd becomes Eternity.
Some Biass cleaves to the unguarded Mind;
Thro' this, as in a false or flatt'ring Glass,
Things seem to change their Natures as they pass.
Objects the same in diff'rent Lights appear,
And but the Colours which we give 'em wear.
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All Fools are modish, and all Knaves are wise.
Who does not boast some Merit of his own,
Tho' to himself perhaps 'tis only known?
Each suits Rewards to his own fav'rite Vice,
Pride has its Crowns, and Lust its Paradise:
Bonze, Priest and Dervise, all in this agree,
That Heaven must be for Pomp or Luxury;
Man, Slave to Sense no higher Bliss can know,
Still measures Things above by Things below.
Joys much the same, but differ in Degree,
As Time enlarg'd becomes Eternity.
How vain is all that Science we pursue!
Scorn'd by the Many, useless to the Few:
Since short of Truth our utmost Labours end,
Who knows but Ign'rance is our greatest Friend?
Our fruitless Pains but shew our Weakness more,
And we, like Misers, 'midst our Wealth are poor.
Much hoarded Learning but like Lumber lies,
Or ends in Guess-work and Obscurities.
Scorn'd by the Many, useless to the Few:
Since short of Truth our utmost Labours end,
Who knows but Ign'rance is our greatest Friend?
Our fruitless Pains but shew our Weakness more,
And we, like Misers, 'midst our Wealth are poor.
Much hoarded Learning but like Lumber lies,
Or ends in Guess-work and Obscurities.
What tho' proud Greece her sev'n old Sages boast?
The Names alone remain, the Race is lost.
Satyrs, and Centaurs too, might live of old,
(For so we are in ancient Story told)
But shou'd we doubt in this our faithless Age;
Who can produce a Centaur or a Sage?
Such mighty Births were Nature's first Essays,
The lusty Offspring of her youthful Days;
Our later Times can no such Wonders shew,
But what were Giants then, are Pigmies now.
The Names alone remain, the Race is lost.
Satyrs, and Centaurs too, might live of old,
(For so we are in ancient Story told)
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Who can produce a Centaur or a Sage?
Such mighty Births were Nature's first Essays,
The lusty Offspring of her youthful Days;
Our later Times can no such Wonders shew,
But what were Giants then, are Pigmies now.
Of all the painful Follies of Mankind,
Still to be seeking what they ne'er must find,
Is sure the greatest; not unlike the Toil
Of him who labours in a barren Soil.
Beyond our State if our fond Wishes tend,
Means must be vain where we mistake our End.
Pride whispers mighty Projects in our Ear,
Bids us be great, be wise, be happy here;
But sad Experience shews the Laws of Fate,
And teaches us to know ourselves too late.
Still to be seeking what they ne'er must find,
Is sure the greatest; not unlike the Toil
Of him who labours in a barren Soil.
Beyond our State if our fond Wishes tend,
Means must be vain where we mistake our End.
Pride whispers mighty Projects in our Ear,
Bids us be great, be wise, be happy here;
But sad Experience shews the Laws of Fate,
And teaches us to know ourselves too late.
Error is a Distemper of the Mind,
Hard to be cur'd, because 'tis hard to find;
So mixt and blended with our very Frame,
It lurks secure, and borrows Reason's Name.
In diff'rent Persons diff'rent Ways it springs,
'Tis Factiousness in Subjects, Pride in Kings;
Boundless alike, they in Extremes agree,
These in Oppression, those in Anarchy;
Both aim at what is Ruin to obtain,
A civil Frenzy, or a Tyrant Reign.
Hard to be cur'd, because 'tis hard to find;
So mixt and blended with our very Frame,
It lurks secure, and borrows Reason's Name.
In diff'rent Persons diff'rent Ways it springs,
'Tis Factiousness in Subjects, Pride in Kings;
Boundless alike, they in Extremes agree,
These in Oppression, those in Anarchy;
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A civil Frenzy, or a Tyrant Reign.
The Wise must into Nature's Secrets pry;
The Weak believe, they know not what, nor why;
And we may equally deluded call,
Those who doubt nothing, as who doubt of all.
Profane or pious, Bigotry's the same,
The Motives Terror, Avarice, or Fame;
Opinion is but Int'rest in Disguise,
And Right or Wrong in Strength of Parties lies.
The Weak believe, they know not what, nor why;
And we may equally deluded call,
Those who doubt nothing, as who doubt of all.
Profane or pious, Bigotry's the same,
The Motives Terror, Avarice, or Fame;
Opinion is but Int'rest in Disguise,
And Right or Wrong in Strength of Parties lies.
Some wou'd be happy, know nor Want nor Care,
Others still find more Evils than there are;
While Truth, unheeded, in the Midway lies,
And all the Extremes are like Absurdities.
Others still find more Evils than there are;
While Truth, unheeded, in the Midway lies,
And all the Extremes are like Absurdities.
Wrong Turns of Head are Nature's greatest Curse,
Improving ev'ry Day from bad to worse.
In some odd Light all Objects still they view,
Thus true with them is false, and false is true.
In Trifles solemn, diligent and wise,
Important Things as Trifles they despise;
Caressing Enemies, their Friends they shun,
And doat on Knaves, by whom they are undone.
Deaf to Advice, or taking Wrong for Right,
They boldly blunder on in Reason's Spight;
And under clearer Light's obscure Pretence,
Live the Antipodes of common Sense.
Improving ev'ry Day from bad to worse.
In some odd Light all Objects still they view,
Thus true with them is false, and false is true.
In Trifles solemn, diligent and wise,
Important Things as Trifles they despise;
Caressing Enemies, their Friends they shun,
And doat on Knaves, by whom they are undone.
Deaf to Advice, or taking Wrong for Right,
They boldly blunder on in Reason's Spight;
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Live the Antipodes of common Sense.
Wou'd you persuade a Wretch intent on Pelf,
Tho' he starves others, not to starve himself;
To fence, at least, his sapless Trunk from Cold,
Nor seem as fond of Tatters as of Gold;
No! he's too cunning for your sly Design,
You'd have him like yourself, be poor and fine;
But he, in spite of Envy, richer grows,
And scorns the Luxury of Meat and Cloaths.
Ask the Ambitious why he wastes his Life,
In needless Struggles and uncertain Strife?
Why not in Peace enjoy what Plenty gives?
So the Obscure, the Weak, the Lazy lives;
Exalted Spirits have a nobler Aim,
And know no Happiness but Toil and Fame.
Tho' he starves others, not to starve himself;
To fence, at least, his sapless Trunk from Cold,
Nor seem as fond of Tatters as of Gold;
No! he's too cunning for your sly Design,
You'd have him like yourself, be poor and fine;
But he, in spite of Envy, richer grows,
And scorns the Luxury of Meat and Cloaths.
Ask the Ambitious why he wastes his Life,
In needless Struggles and uncertain Strife?
Why not in Peace enjoy what Plenty gives?
So the Obscure, the Weak, the Lazy lives;
Exalted Spirits have a nobler Aim,
And know no Happiness but Toil and Fame.
Well! must it suit a selfish hollow Heart,
To act the honest Patriot's gen'rous Part;
No Tool of Party, nor a Slave of State,
No mean Dependant on the guilty Great;
Boldly he pleads for Liberty and Laws,
Content to perish in his Country's Cause;
When, lo! a Ray divine of Favour gleams,
Quite diff'rent Topicks then become his Themes,
Old Friends, old Notions are at once forgot,
And Shame and Wages are the Hireling's Lot.
To act the honest Patriot's gen'rous Part;
No Tool of Party, nor a Slave of State,
No mean Dependant on the guilty Great;
Boldly he pleads for Liberty and Laws,
Content to perish in his Country's Cause;
When, lo! a Ray divine of Favour gleams,
Quite diff'rent Topicks then become his Themes,
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And Shame and Wages are the Hireling's Lot.
The little Mind whose Joy in Mischief lies,
Hates all Mankind, but most the Good and Wise;
Proud of his Shame, he boasts his frightful Skill,
And places all his Worth in doing Ill.
But base-born Fear oft checks what Rage devis'd,
And leaves him disappointed and despis'd.
Hates all Mankind, but most the Good and Wise;
Proud of his Shame, he boasts his frightful Skill,
And places all his Worth in doing Ill.
But base-born Fear oft checks what Rage devis'd,
And leaves him disappointed and despis'd.
Endless the Task to point the various Ways,
How each Wrong-head its diff'rent Gifts displays;
How Poverty in Boasts its Wants wou'd hide,
And Meanness shews itself in awkward Pride;
How Knaves are cunning at their own Expence,
And Coxcombs fansy Forwardness is Sense.
Vain is th'Attempt to be what Heav'n denies,
As vain the Art that Weakness to disguise.
Prudence alone can teach the useful Skill,
T'improve the Good, and to correct the Ill.
True Wisdom lies in Practice more than Rules,
For what are Maxims when apply'd to Fools?
A Head right judging, and a Heart sincere,
The Purpose honest, as the Reas'ning clear;
This is true Worth, the rest is all Pretence,
Good Parts are dang'rous things without good Sense.
Of Wit and Folly, reason all you can,
Who acts most wisely, is the wisest Man.
How each Wrong-head its diff'rent Gifts displays;
How Poverty in Boasts its Wants wou'd hide,
And Meanness shews itself in awkward Pride;
How Knaves are cunning at their own Expence,
And Coxcombs fansy Forwardness is Sense.
Vain is th'Attempt to be what Heav'n denies,
As vain the Art that Weakness to disguise.
Prudence alone can teach the useful Skill,
T'improve the Good, and to correct the Ill.
True Wisdom lies in Practice more than Rules,
For what are Maxims when apply'd to Fools?
A Head right judging, and a Heart sincere,
The Purpose honest, as the Reas'ning clear;
This is true Worth, the rest is all Pretence,
Good Parts are dang'rous things without good Sense.
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Who acts most wisely, is the wisest Man.
Each State of Life has its peculiar View,
Alike in each, there is a false and true:
This Point to fix is Reason's Use and End,
On this Success all other must depend:
But in this Point no Error can be small,
To deviate e'er so little, ruins all.
The Mark once miss'd, however near you aim,
Miss'd by an Inch or Furlong, 'tis the same:
Who sets out wrong is more than half undone,
Error has many Ways, and Truth but one.
Alike in each, there is a false and true:
This Point to fix is Reason's Use and End,
On this Success all other must depend:
But in this Point no Error can be small,
To deviate e'er so little, ruins all.
The Mark once miss'd, however near you aim,
Miss'd by an Inch or Furlong, 'tis the same:
Who sets out wrong is more than half undone,
Error has many Ways, and Truth but one.
Wrong Estimates wrong Conduct must produce,
They lose the Blessing who mistake its Use:
Who value Wealth or Pow'r but more or less
As that can riot, or as this oppress;
What say they else, but that they both are given
To execute the Wrath of angry Heaven.
They lose the Blessing who mistake its Use:
Who value Wealth or Pow'r but more or less
As that can riot, or as this oppress;
What say they else, but that they both are given
To execute the Wrath of angry Heaven.
Fools ever vain, at some Distinction aim,
And fansy Madness is the Way to Fame:
No Matter how the deathless Name's acquir'd,
By Countries ravag'd, or a Temple fir'd:
Alike transmitted down to latest Times,
A Trajan's Virtues, and a Nero's Crimes.
Means are indiff'rent so the End's obtain'd,
Richard was guilty, but what then? he reign'd.
Wou'd you be Good and Great, the Hope is vain,
The Bus'ness is not to deserve, but gain:
Fortune is fickle, and but short her Stay,
He comes too late that takes the farthest Way.
And fansy Madness is the Way to Fame:
No Matter how the deathless Name's acquir'd,
By Countries ravag'd, or a Temple fir'd:
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A Trajan's Virtues, and a Nero's Crimes.
Means are indiff'rent so the End's obtain'd,
Richard was guilty, but what then? he reign'd.
Wou'd you be Good and Great, the Hope is vain,
The Bus'ness is not to deserve, but gain:
Fortune is fickle, and but short her Stay,
He comes too late that takes the farthest Way.
Is this, Oh Grandeur! then, thy envy'd State,
To raise Men's Wonder, and provoke their Hate?
By Crimes procur'd, and then in Fear enjoy'd,
By Mobs applauded, and by Mobs destroy'd.
Say, mighty Cunning! which deserve the Prize,
The Courtier's Promises, or Trader's Lies?
Some short-liv'd Profit, all the Pains rewards
Of Bankrupt Dealers, and of perjur'd Lords.
To raise Men's Wonder, and provoke their Hate?
By Crimes procur'd, and then in Fear enjoy'd,
By Mobs applauded, and by Mobs destroy'd.
Say, mighty Cunning! which deserve the Prize,
The Courtier's Promises, or Trader's Lies?
Some short-liv'd Profit, all the Pains rewards
Of Bankrupt Dealers, and of perjur'd Lords.
Honest alike, you own, but wiser far,
The Knave upon the Bench than at the Bar:
Where lies the Diff'rence? only in Degree,
And higher Rank is greater Infamy.
Poor Rogues in Chains but dangle to the Wind,
Whilst rich ones live the Terror of Mankind.
The Knave upon the Bench than at the Bar:
Where lies the Diff'rence? only in Degree,
And higher Rank is greater Infamy.
Poor Rogues in Chains but dangle to the Wind,
Whilst rich ones live the Terror of Mankind.
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Pomp, Pow'r and Riches, all mere Trifles are,
When purchas'd by the Loss of Character:
Chance may the Wise betray, the Brave defeat,
But they correct, or are above their Fate.
Credit once lost can never be retriev'd,
How few will trust the Man who once deceiv'd?
Craft, like the Mole, works only under Ground,
Is lost in Day-light, and destroy'd when found.
When purchas'd by the Loss of Character:
Chance may the Wise betray, the Brave defeat,
But they correct, or are above their Fate.
Credit once lost can never be retriev'd,
How few will trust the Man who once deceiv'd?
Craft, like the Mole, works only under Ground,
Is lost in Day-light, and destroy'd when found.
Notions mistaken, Reas'nings ill apply'd.
And Sophisms that conclude on either Side;
Alike th'Unwary, and the Weak, mislead,
Who judge of Men and Things, as each succeed.
Did Rivals fall by Borgia's vile Deceit,
A Machiavel will call a Borgia great;
The lucky Cheat proclaims the Villain wise,
And Fraud and Murder are but Policies.
The same Despair which made good Cato die,
To Cæsar gave his last great Victory.
Had Right decided, and not Fate, the Cause,
Rome had preserv'd her Cato, and her Laws.
Fortune sets off the Bad, as tawdry Dress
Shews but the more the Wearer's Homeliness.
So mad Caligula's
vain Triumph tells,
That all his Conquests are but Cockle-Shells.
True Merit shines in native Splendor bright,
Whilst false but glares awhile, and hurts the Sight:
As Midnight Vapours cast a glimm'ring Blaze,
And to the Darkness owe their feeble Rays.
The wise Egyptians when their Monarch dy'd,
By Truth's sure Standard all his Actions try'd.
When no false Lustre, Wealth, or Pow'r, appears
To biass Judgment by its Hopes or Fears;
Then conqu'ring Chiefs profuse of Subjects Blood,
And lazy Dotards, indolently good;
That trust their People to a Fav'rite's Care,
Whose peaceful Rapines cost 'em more than War,
By injur'd Thousands, Wrongs are doom'd to be
Perpetual Marks of Scorn and Infamy.
And Sophisms that conclude on either Side;
Alike th'Unwary, and the Weak, mislead,
Who judge of Men and Things, as each succeed.
Did Rivals fall by Borgia's vile Deceit,
A Machiavel will call a Borgia great;
The lucky Cheat proclaims the Villain wise,
And Fraud and Murder are but Policies.
The same Despair which made good Cato die,
To Cæsar gave his last great Victory.
Had Right decided, and not Fate, the Cause,
Rome had preserv'd her Cato, and her Laws.
Fortune sets off the Bad, as tawdry Dress
Shews but the more the Wearer's Homeliness.
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That all his Conquests are but Cockle-Shells.
True Merit shines in native Splendor bright,
Whilst false but glares awhile, and hurts the Sight:
As Midnight Vapours cast a glimm'ring Blaze,
And to the Darkness owe their feeble Rays.
The wise Egyptians when their Monarch dy'd,
By Truth's sure Standard all his Actions try'd.
When no false Lustre, Wealth, or Pow'r, appears
To biass Judgment by its Hopes or Fears;
Then conqu'ring Chiefs profuse of Subjects Blood,
And lazy Dotards, indolently good;
That trust their People to a Fav'rite's Care,
Whose peaceful Rapines cost 'em more than War,
By injur'd Thousands, Wrongs are doom'd to be
Perpetual Marks of Scorn and Infamy.
Fortune with Fools, and Wit with Knaves you find,
'Tis social Virtue, shews the noble Mind.
Above low Wisdom, Cunning's mean Pretence,
There is no counterfeiting Excellence:
The artful Head may act the honest Part,
But all true Honour rises from the Heart.
'Tis social Virtue, shews the noble Mind.
Above low Wisdom, Cunning's mean Pretence,
There is no counterfeiting Excellence:
The artful Head may act the honest Part,
But all true Honour rises from the Heart.
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Which serv'd his Country best, let Story shew,
A guilty Clodius, or good Cicero?
Faults are in all; but here the Diff'rence lies,
Clodius had Vices, Tully Vanities.
Who loves Mankind by social Duty taught,
Will never think their Good too dearly bought;
What tho' he sacrifice the vain Desire
Of some gay Bawbles, which the World admire;
Despising Riches, and abhorring Pow'r
When blasted with the Name of Plunderer;
Still he may taste Life's greatest Good, Content;
For who so happy as the Innocent?
A guilty Clodius, or good Cicero?
Faults are in all; but here the Diff'rence lies,
Clodius had Vices, Tully Vanities.
Who loves Mankind by social Duty taught,
Will never think their Good too dearly bought;
What tho' he sacrifice the vain Desire
Of some gay Bawbles, which the World admire;
Despising Riches, and abhorring Pow'r
When blasted with the Name of Plunderer;
Still he may taste Life's greatest Good, Content;
For who so happy as the Innocent?
Jugurtha
murder'd, brib'd, and fought his Way
From subject Station to imperial Sway;
But insecure 'midst all his guilty State,
The Man was wretched, tho' the Monarch great;
Like Cromwell, daring in the doubtful Fight,
But pale and trembling in the Dead of Night.
From subject Station to imperial Sway;
But insecure 'midst all his guilty State,
The Man was wretched, tho' the Monarch great;
Like Cromwell, daring in the doubtful Fight,
But pale and trembling in the Dead of Night.
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Passion is lawless, headstrong Youth is mad,
But Nature varies not in Good and Bad.
From the same Causes same Effects must flow,
Truth is but what it was an Age ago:
Modes may be chang'd, but Truths are stubborn Things,
They court not Fav'rites, nor will flatter Kings.
But Nature varies not in Good and Bad.
From the same Causes same Effects must flow,
Truth is but what it was an Age ago:
Modes may be chang'd, but Truths are stubborn Things,
They court not Fav'rites, nor will flatter Kings.
Rome had her Cæsar, and our Cromwell we,
Alike in Fortune, Pow'r, and Infamy;
And shou'd new Cæsars and new Cromwells rise,
They could but act the same dire Tragedies:
Foes to Mankind, themselves, and Virtue's Rules,
Whilst living, Heroes, and when dead, but Fools.
Alike in Fortune, Pow'r, and Infamy;
And shou'd new Cæsars and new Cromwells rise,
They could but act the same dire Tragedies:
Foes to Mankind, themselves, and Virtue's Rules,
Whilst living, Heroes, and when dead, but Fools.
Fools, not to know the Glory they pursue,
To honest Bravery alone, is due:
Not he who stretches his unjust Command,
And rudely triumphs o'er his native Land:
But he whose Valour saves a sinking State,
In future Annals shall be call'd the Great.
To honest Bravery alone, is due:
Not he who stretches his unjust Command,
And rudely triumphs o'er his native Land:
But he whose Valour saves a sinking State,
In future Annals shall be call'd the Great.
View well this World, and own the dear-bought Truth,
That Happiness is but the Dream of Youth:
State of Perfection, not for Man design'd,
Howe'er the fond Idea fills his Mind;
Itself an Evil, while to Good it tends,
But in a Round of Disappointments ends.
Man's State in Life, uncertain, mix't, at best;
Conduct some little does, but Fate the rest:
Fantastick Fate! to Merit ever blind,
Whilst lavish to the worst of all Mankind.
By Roman Hands, how else cou'd Cicero fall?
Or Carthage banish her own Hanibal?
While Cleopatra, spite of Scorn and Hate,
Liv'd to compleat the Ruin of her State?
That Happiness is but the Dream of Youth:
State of Perfection, not for Man design'd,
Howe'er the fond Idea fills his Mind;
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But in a Round of Disappointments ends.
Man's State in Life, uncertain, mix't, at best;
Conduct some little does, but Fate the rest:
Fantastick Fate! to Merit ever blind,
Whilst lavish to the worst of all Mankind.
By Roman Hands, how else cou'd Cicero fall?
Or Carthage banish her own Hanibal?
While Cleopatra, spite of Scorn and Hate,
Liv'd to compleat the Ruin of her State?
Judge then by outward Things, you're sure to err,
And inward lie remote, few look so far.
Appearances still guide, and still deceive,
For giddy Crowds must wonder, and believe.
And inward lie remote, few look so far.
Appearances still guide, and still deceive,
For giddy Crowds must wonder, and believe.
Who sees gay Codrus loll in gilt Machine,
Grand his Attendance, and self-pleas'd his Mien:
Can he imagine all these Trappings hide
A Wretch made up of Folly, Guilt and Pride?
Greedy to get, and as profuse to spend,
Stiff when attended, servile to attend;
Good but by Accident, by Habit bad,
In Reas'ning specious, and in Acting mad.
Grand his Attendance, and self-pleas'd his Mien:
Can he imagine all these Trappings hide
A Wretch made up of Folly, Guilt and Pride?
Greedy to get, and as profuse to spend,
Stiff when attended, servile to attend;
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In Reas'ning specious, and in Acting mad.
Princes we blame for Benefits misplac'd,
Some ill Man rais'd, perhaps some good disgrac'd:
Cruel their Lot! whom Numbers join to blind,
How hard thro' Labyrinths the Way to find!
But Fortune's Sons we see, without Surprize,
Thrive by Mismanagements, by Blunders rise:
Events, like Atoms jumbling in a Dance,
Create these Wonders like a World by Chance.
Some ill Man rais'd, perhaps some good disgrac'd:
Cruel their Lot! whom Numbers join to blind,
How hard thro' Labyrinths the Way to find!
But Fortune's Sons we see, without Surprize,
Thrive by Mismanagements, by Blunders rise:
Events, like Atoms jumbling in a Dance,
Create these Wonders like a World by Chance.
Search Time's Records, compare the old and new,
Set distant Ages in one Point of View;
Still the same Prospects, under diff'rent Dates,
All dark Decrees of over-ruling Fates:
Madness succeeds, where cautious Wisdom fails,
And Story's self more strange than Fairy's Tales:
Reason but seeks the hidden Clue in vain,
Lost and bewilder'd in th'entangled Skane.
Set distant Ages in one Point of View;
Still the same Prospects, under diff'rent Dates,
All dark Decrees of over-ruling Fates:
Madness succeeds, where cautious Wisdom fails,
And Story's self more strange than Fairy's Tales:
Reason but seeks the hidden Clue in vain,
Lost and bewilder'd in th'entangled Skane.
Where then the Wonder, if succeeding Times
Still vary only in the Kinds of Crimes?
Ages of Iron, Silver, Gold or Lead,
What are they but the Emblems of the Dead?
The same low Ends, by diff'rent Means obtain'd,
As Fury, Avarice, or Folly reign'd?
Still vary only in the Kinds of Crimes?
Ages of Iron, Silver, Gold or Lead,
What are they but the Emblems of the Dead?
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As Fury, Avarice, or Folly reign'd?
In vain grave Moralists, with specious Skill,
Nicely distinguish Actions good and ill;
The World is led by much more easy Rules,
Success determines who are Wise or Fools.
Causes lie hid, but their Effects appear,
Few Men can judge, but all can see and hear.
Gold, Gems and Purple charm alike the Eye,
Worn by Octavius, or Anthony;
His Right they were to whom by Lot they fell,
And Actium the decisive Oracle:
Corrupted Legions Jove's Vicegerent name,
And servile Senates own the righteous Claim.
Nicely distinguish Actions good and ill;
The World is led by much more easy Rules,
Success determines who are Wise or Fools.
Causes lie hid, but their Effects appear,
Few Men can judge, but all can see and hear.
Gold, Gems and Purple charm alike the Eye,
Worn by Octavius, or Anthony;
His Right they were to whom by Lot they fell,
And Actium the decisive Oracle:
Corrupted Legions Jove's Vicegerent name,
And servile Senates own the righteous Claim.
Each Age must truckle to the reigning Modes,
And worship Devils when they make them Gods;
Call Rapine Industry, Distraction Sense,
And stupid Squand'ring call Magnificence:
No Folly, Crime or Whim too wild to be
Admir'd, when drest in Fashion's Livery.
Fashion, whose strong magnetic Pow'r o'er-rules,
And ever must attract the Lead of Fools;
Her Rise uncertain, but her Progress sure,
Wisdom itself knows no specific Cure.
Wits, Heroes, Statesmen, Monarchs, all must own,
They owe their Merit oft to her alone,
And whilst the epidemic Fit prevails,
No Fop, no Blockhead, nor no Villain fails.
And worship Devils when they make them Gods;
Call Rapine Industry, Distraction Sense,
And stupid Squand'ring call Magnificence:
No Folly, Crime or Whim too wild to be
Admir'd, when drest in Fashion's Livery.
Fashion, whose strong magnetic Pow'r o'er-rules,
And ever must attract the Lead of Fools;
Her Rise uncertain, but her Progress sure,
Wisdom itself knows no specific Cure.
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They owe their Merit oft to her alone,
And whilst the epidemic Fit prevails,
No Fop, no Blockhead, nor no Villain fails.
See the same Notions variously receiv'd,
Legends, Impostures, every thing believ'd:
See Priests and Tyrants full Obedience find,
And sacred Gibberish enslave Mankind.
View next, with Wonder, an Extreme as odd,
Who knelt to Images, denies a God.
Wretches from Chains and Bondage just set free,
Presumptuous! know no Bounds of Liberty.
Wicked or pious, in a frantick Way,
Mad, they blaspheme, or superstitious, pray.
Legends, Impostures, every thing believ'd:
See Priests and Tyrants full Obedience find,
And sacred Gibberish enslave Mankind.
View next, with Wonder, an Extreme as odd,
Who knelt to Images, denies a God.
Wretches from Chains and Bondage just set free,
Presumptuous! know no Bounds of Liberty.
Wicked or pious, in a frantick Way,
Mad, they blaspheme, or superstitious, pray.
By Chance we live, and act, now right, now wrong,
Both in Excess, and, therefore, neither long:
Virtues too rigid soften by Degrees,
Refine themselves at first to Policies;
When once declining, swiftly downwards tend,
And then in Guilt and Prostitutions end.
Follies tho' opposite, yet still combine,
And jointly carry on Heav'n's great Design.
Changes of Manners Change of Empire cause,
States sink by Licence, as they rose by Laws.
Thus human Things their stated Circles run,
Who one Age flourish, are the next undone.
Both in Excess, and, therefore, neither long:
Virtues too rigid soften by Degrees,
Refine themselves at first to Policies;
When once declining, swiftly downwards tend,
And then in Guilt and Prostitutions end.
Follies tho' opposite, yet still combine,
And jointly carry on Heav'n's great Design.
Changes of Manners Change of Empire cause,
States sink by Licence, as they rose by Laws.
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Who one Age flourish, are the next undone.
Virtue alone, unchangeable and wise,
Secure, above the Reach of Fortune lies:
Tho' doom'd to Meanness, Poverty or Scorn;
Whilst Fools and Tyrants are to Empire born:
Blest in an humble, but a peaceful State,
She feels no Envy, and she fears no Hate:
With Stoick Calmness views Life's empty Round,
Where Good is sparing sown, but Ills abound.
Secure, above the Reach of Fortune lies:
Tho' doom'd to Meanness, Poverty or Scorn;
Whilst Fools and Tyrants are to Empire born:
Blest in an humble, but a peaceful State,
She feels no Envy, and she fears no Hate:
With Stoick Calmness views Life's empty Round,
Where Good is sparing sown, but Ills abound.
Erostratus, a very obscure Man, set Fire to the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, in order to immortalize his Name, and has succeeded in it, in Spite of all Endeavours to the contrary.
Caligula drew up his Army in Battle Array on the Coast, and then ordered them to gather Shells; for which great Exploit, he returned to Rome in great Triumph. See Suetonius.
Sall. Bell. Jugur. Neque post id locorum Jugurthæ dies aut nox ulla quieta fuit: Neque loco, neque mortali cuipium aut tempori satis credere:—Alio atque alio loco sæpè contra decus regium noctu requiescere—
Clarendon Hist. Rebell. Of Cromwell he says, He was not easy of Access, nor so much as seen abroad, and seem'd to be in some Disorder when his Eyes found any Stranger in the Room, &c. rarely lodg'd two Nights in one Chamber, &c.
Eutropius says, l. 4. Huic Antiocho Annibal se junxerat, Carthaginem patriam suam, ne Romanis traderetur relinquens. Such Ingratitude would seem incredible, did not every Age produce Instances of much the same kind, where the Talents of truly Great Men are rendered useless to their Country, by the Jealousies, low Interests, and Artifices of Little Ones.
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