University of Virginia Library

The Conflict youthful Hercules endur'd,
While rival Charms his wavering Mind allur'd;
His great Self-Conquest, and Heroic Choice;
I, first, record in Numbers. Tune my Voice,
Urania, when I sing in Virtue's Praise,
And consecrate to Heav'n my Favourite Lays:
The noble Cause will sanctify the Verse,
And to the Great and Good commend what I rehearse.

In early Times, ere Fops and Beaus were known,
Or Vice and Folly had acquir'd Renown;
When every brave, and every honest Mind
Employ'd its Care for Good to human Kind;
Young Hercules (as ancient Sages shew.)
Some time, was dubious what He ought to do.
Labour and Ease He had already prov'd:
But neither yet, præ-eminently, lov'd.
Now This, now That, his various Fancy took,
And still new Charms his Resolution shook.
Reason and Passion, struggling for the Sway,
Kept Care awake, and chas'd Repose away.

Deep in the Woods was a sequester'd Grove,
(Fit Scene for Meditation and for Love.)
By heavenly Solitude and Silence blest!
Where, oft, the wearied Hero us'd to rest;
And, oft, collected with religious Strife,
Muse what shou'd be his future State of Life—
Whether 'twere best to make a settled Choice
Of painful Labours, or luxuriant Joys.

But, as He thus deliberating lay
Far in the Grove, where glimmer'd scarce the Day,
Two female Figures, on a Time, to View
Presented, near the wondering Hero drew.
One mov'd majestic, with engaging Grace,
And natural Beauty dignify'd her Face;
With dauntless Mien aloft she rear'd her Head,
And next to manly was the Virgin's Tread;
Her Person tall, and noble was her Air;
Modest her Eyes; and careless hung her Hair;
Her whole Behaviour, as her Raiment, chaste;
Tho' serious were her Looks, she made no forward Haste.
The other, in her Countenance display'd
A florid Health, with artificial Aid;
Well was her Face with White and Red adorn'd;
And, as she mov'd, she shew'd how much she scorn'd;
Her Mien and Gestures all with Study wrought;
Each Look the Livery of lascivious Thought!
What various Colours glorify'd her Dress,
The more her fair Complexion to express?
How, on her self, she, first, her Glances cast!
Then, on Beholders, for their Liking, last!
And, often, to her Shadow, turn'd her Head,
To see the mighty Figure that she made!

Struck with Surprize the youthful Hero rose,
And round him loose a Lion's Hide he throws;
While this gay Venus near his Presence came,
(Stepping, assur'd, before the bashful Dame.)
And briskly, thus, with Eloquence and Art,
Prevents her Rival, and allures his Heart.

‘Hail, Godlike Son of all-begetting Jove,
‘Design'd for Greatness, Luxury, and Love,
‘My Hercules!—But do I find you muse
‘What way of Life You chiefly ought to chuse?
‘Is it a Question, whether to be blest,
‘Or with a World of Misery distrest?
‘Resolve to follow Me. I'll lead you on
‘To Scenes, where Sorrow never yet was known;
‘Where you shall never be alarm'd again
‘With sawcy Noise, Disquietude, and Pain.
‘Nor Peace, nor War, shall ever have the Pow'r
‘To give my Hero's Mind Veyation more.
‘Your whole Employment shall be lasting Ease,
‘To gratify your Senses, as you please.
‘For sumptuous Tables fill the Rooms of State,
‘And Beds of Roses your Arrival wait;
‘Clouds of Perfumes will all around you rise,
‘And Crowds of Beauties kindle your Surprize;
‘Consorts of Musick charm your Soul to Rest,
‘And all Elysium ecstasy your Breast!
‘Come, follow Me, my Way of Life embrace,
‘And I will bring you to the Halcyon Place,
‘This Region of Delight! this Heav'n of Joy!
‘Which Care. and Pain, and Business ne'er annoy.”

Amaz'd to view the stately Form; and charm'd
With what she said; young Hercules, disarm'd
Of half his Reason, ask'd the Lady's Name,
And almost prov'd to her Temptations tame.

‘I'm Happiness, she answer'd. All, who know
‘My Nature well, this Character bestow:
‘But Those, who want to injure me, proclaim
‘That Pleasure only is my proper Name.

The other Lady, now arriv'd, address'd
The youthful Hero, and her Plea express'd
In different Manner, as of different Kind,
To win and hold the Conquest of a Mind.

‘You are (she said) of Origin divine,
‘And Proofs of that Descent already shine,
‘O Hercules, in your Behaviour, now,
‘Within you does not Love to Virtue glow?
‘Do you not daily proper Studies ply?
‘And to be worthy such Relation try?
‘This makes me hope your Conduct soon may claim,
‘Both for your Self and Me, immortal Fame.
‘But mark, young Hero, ere I court your Love,
‘Or to my Fellowship your Fancy move,
‘Mark well the plain and honest Things I say,
‘And this establish'd Truth maturely weigh,
‘That nothing, truly valuable, can
‘Be purchas'd without Pain and Toil, by Man.
‘Gratis, the Gods no real Good bestow;
‘If you wou'd reap the Harvest, you must plow.
‘The Deity, to procure his Love adore,
‘And make new Friendships, by obliging more.
‘First serve your Country, if you hope to share
‘Its Blessings, and the publick Honours wear.
‘In War or Peace, as ever you'd excell,
‘Study the noble Means to make you well.
‘On these Conditions only, I propose
‘That Happiness, which Heroes all have chose.

Hercules pensive and divided was,
And interested in the puzzling Cause;
Leaning upon his Club, He silent stood,
Nor cou'd distinguish the sincerest Good.
Mean while, the Syren plies his Heart again,
Nor labour'd to perplex it more, in vain.

‘You see, my Hero, Virtue has confess'd
‘That all her Votaries must be sore distress'd,
‘Before 'tis possible they can be bless'd.
‘How long and difficult the Way she moves!
‘How short and easy mine to Pleasure proves!
‘Be anxious Care and painful Drudgery far,
‘And all the fickle Fate of boasted War—
‘My blooming Hero better Bliss shall know,
‘Ev'n all the Pleasures Pleasure can bestow.
‘What wou'd you more? While Youth and Vigour last,
‘Enjoy the Moments; for they fly too fast.
‘Seize the Occasion wisely, while you may;
‘And all th' Arrears, so due to Nature, pay.
‘Be various Pleasure all your Soul's Employ,
‘And every Sense be lost in every Joy.

‘Alas! (said Virtue, with a sideling Glance,
Made up of Pity and Disdain, at once.)
‘What are the mighty Pleasures you propose?
‘Gilded Destruction, and delicious Woes!
‘To eat, before an Appetite is rais'd,
‘Or after craving Hunger is appeas'd;
‘To drink, when not a-thirst; to sleep, untir'd;
‘And hunt for Pleasures Nature ne'er requir'd.
‘Say, have you heard that most delightful Sound
‘Of Musick, Praise of Deeds with Glory crown'd?
‘Praise of one's Self!—Or have your Eyes beheld
‘An Object, that in beauteous Charms excel'd
‘The Work of one's own Hands?—Your Train, alas!
‘Their Youth in Dreams of Bliss mistaken pass,
‘Unconscious or unheeding, that Remorse,
‘Anguish and Torment, hoarded up of Course,
‘Will follow on, to persecute old Age,
‘And blast Life's Evening with Despair and Rage.
‘But, as for Me, by Gods and good Men lov'd,
‘Good Men and Gods are both by Me approv'd.
‘To Artizans, I an Associate am,
‘And Guardian Parents my Protection claim.
‘The honest Servant has me for a Friend;
‘He seeks my Sanction; I Assistance lend.
‘In true and generous Friendships I've a Share,
‘And virtuous Lovers are my special Care.
‘'Tis true, my Votaries banquet not like Yours:
‘But then they keep their Faculties and Pow'rs.
‘Delicious, tho' not costly, are their Meals,
‘They eat and drink, as Appetite prevails.
‘Sound are their Slumbers, and their Wakings glad;
‘Their Minds not troubled, nor their Faces sad.
‘The young Man, with Delight, his Praises hears
‘From the wise Lips of those, who are in Years:
‘And Those in Years, with honest Pleasure, take
‘The Honours and Respect, which young Men make.
‘But not to hold a vain Dispute with You,
‘My noble Followers, howsoever few,
‘By Gods are favour'd, to their Country dear,
‘And, after Life, immortal Honours wear.

Impatient, Pleasure here renews her Plea,
Fearing her Rival had obtain'd the Sway;
While Hercules, in pensive, silent Mood,
Still, with his Eyes to Earth projected, stood.

‘What Words, what Arguments shall Pleasure chuse?
‘What Means, to hold her youthful Hero, use?
‘Think, Son of Jove, before it be too late,
‘Think of her Followers' miserable State,
‘Who, seeking Glory with assiduous Strife,
‘Are disregarded, scorn'd, or starv'd, in Life.
‘Or, if they feel some secret, hidden Bliss,
‘How poor it is, which none, who want it, miss!
‘I grant, sometimes, they're talk'd of after Death,
‘After they've spent their Stock of painful Breath—
‘But what's an airy Name? Precarious Joy!
‘Shall Hercules be bubbled with a Toy,
‘Which, living, he can't grasp, nor, dead, enjoy.
‘Present Possession yields a solid Bliss,
‘And I, young Hero, can afford you This.
‘If Birds, if Fishes, Beasts, or Fruits, or Flow'rs,
‘Fountains, or Gardens, Palaces, or Bow'rs,
‘If Pictures, Turrets, Stones of any Kind,
‘Silver, or Gold, delight your noble Mind,—
‘Name but the Thing that Pleasure can afford,
‘Or have them all! of all the Sovereign Lord!
‘Substantial are the Pleasures I dispense,
‘All undisguis'd, and suited to the Sense.
‘When This my Rival's Votaries have found,
‘How oft with Gladness, have they left her Ground?
‘Oft have her boasted Oracles turn'd mute,
‘And own'd my Love's Dominion absolute.
‘For This, Philosophers of highest Fame
‘Make Me the Seat of Happiness supream.
‘To my sweet Yoak the Haughty and the Proud,
‘The Bold, the Bravest, and the Best have bow'd.
‘Both Men and Gods confess my boundless Sway,
‘And with Delight my sweet Commands obey.
‘Or, if an Heart renounces my Decrees,
‘My Darts and Stings can turn it as I please,
‘But This is not a Motive to incline,
‘To my Obedience, such a Soul as thine:
‘Not Fear, but Love, my Orator shall be,
‘Thy Self the Judge of my Affairs and Me.
‘And who by Nature fitter form'd to prove
‘The Joys of loving, than the Son of Jove?
‘A thousand Nymphs of every Sort and Size,
‘With Beauties more than ever blest thy Eyes,
‘Shall wait my Darling, in my charmful Court,
‘And crown thy Joys with everlasting Sport.
‘Come, my young Hero, and alive obtain
‘The blest Elysium, which the Poets feign;
‘The whole Delights of Fountains, Bow'rs and Groves,
‘Nectar, Ambrosia, and immortal Loves.
‘Near thy soft Walks, which gentlest Gales perfume,
‘No Tempest, Storm, nor killing Dew shall come.
‘Laurel and Myrtle, mingled with the Rose
‘And dropping Woodbine, Arbours shall compose.
‘Ambitious Flow'rs shall crowd the sacred Ground,
‘To kiss thy Feet, and court thy Eyes around.
‘Come, let me lead thee to delicious Bliss,
‘Where nought annoys, and all you wish for is;
‘The happy Goal, the Journey's utmost End,
‘To which the sweating World, and weary Nature tend.

She clos'd; and, careless on the Ground reclin'd,
By Looks and Actions still bewitch'd his Mind;
And had prevail'd, if Virtue's last Effort
Had not been us'd his Spirit to support.

‘O Hercules (the honest Goddess said)
‘How weak is Youth! how needful Reason's Aid!
‘Thy Agonies I see, thy yielding fear;
‘How great the Loss to lose a Soul so dear!
‘Yet, O beware, and well my Dictates weigh;
‘Yet turn thy Eyes, and mind what I'm to say;
‘From Me, no Hurt, no Danger can proceed;
‘How can my artless Arguments mislead?
‘Mine are not airy Blessings; and I try
‘No Means ignoble for the Victory.
‘And, sure, young Man, if thou art from Above,
‘No base, no sordid Arguments can move.
‘Is there a sensual Thing of any Kind,
‘That can supply the Cravings of thy Mind?
‘Wert thou possess'd of all the Trifles nam'd,
‘Master of more than ever Tongue proclaim'd,
‘Say, Dost thou think to be exempt from Care?
‘Wou'd not that Inmate to thy Breast repair,
‘And ravage all thy boasted Pleasure there?
‘Or, with those Gifts were some Delight enjoy'd,
‘Wou'dst thou not soon be satisfy'd and cloy'd?
‘Condemn'd eternal Changes to pursue!
‘Tir'd of the Old, and eager of the New!
‘The New possess'd, and thy Desires obtain'd,
‘Wou'd one full Answer of thy Wants be gain'd?
‘Wou'd no fresh Cravings thy Delights corrode,
‘And make a Mortal of the fancied God?
‘How soon the Tinsel-Rapture wou'd be lost!
‘The short-liv'd Bliss not worth the Pains it cost!
‘Besides, young Man, what Pleasure can bestow,
‘Is but a flatt'ring Sound, and specious Show.
‘See'st thou not thro' the Syren's subtle Ways?
‘Think'st thou she means the mighty Things she says?
‘Disguis'd within, there lurks a Poison still,
‘That may thy Intellectual Beauties kill:
‘Sloth, Avarice, and Lust, may soon controul
‘The noble Pow'rs of thy Heroic Soul.
‘And soon, too soon, but with Repentance late,
‘Thy Soul may mourn its miserable State;
‘Condemn'd eternal Pain to undergo,
‘Rising from sad Variety of Woe.
‘These, and like Ills, a Life of Pleasure wait;
‘And She, who would enthrall thee, shews her Hate:
‘Weigh well the Case; for Virtue tells thee true;
‘And, following Me, no Danger can ensue.
‘I'll give thee Wisdom for thy constant Guide,
‘Honour and Glory shall adorn thy Side,
‘Bravery make greatest Labours thy Delight,
‘And Patience lessen every Burden's Weight.
‘Then what tho' various Difficulties rise,
‘Tho' dreadful Dragons shou'd my Son surprize,
‘Arm'd and assisted thus, He'll nothing fear,
‘Acquire Renown, and keep a Conscience clear.
‘My faithful Votaries boast an inward Feast,
‘A Satisfaction not to be exprest!
‘A Life of Pleasure, bounded, but refin'd!
‘A Bliss adapted to th' immortal Mind!
‘Nor are they barr'd from Pleasures of the Sense,
‘Pleasures within right Reason's sacred Fence:
‘Confinement is no Slavery, but their Choice;
‘Lawful Restraint produces honest Joys.
‘Wake then, and waste not, in inglorious Ease,
‘Thy noble Spirit, and thy happiest Days.
‘Prepare for Arms; and vindicate thy Birth,
‘By quelling noxious Monsters of the Earth.
‘How great to be a Conqueror below!
‘And, after Life, a Demi-God to grow!
‘Let Fame and Glory rouze thy youthful Blood,
‘And rate no Joy like that of doing Good.
‘That Part of Bliss is least, which Souls receive;
‘The noblest Pleasure springs from what they give.
‘Not for Themselves alone are Heroes born,
‘But meant to benefit and to adorn
‘The human Race, by Deeds deserving Fame.
‘Society puts in a righteous Claim.
‘Each generous Deed, for Good of human Kind,
‘Will yield fresh Joy and Vigour to thy Mind.
‘Let certain Danger but appear in Sight,
‘The Slaves of Pleasure lose their Courage quite:
‘My Votaries stronger by Resistance grow,
‘And their hid Virtues to Advantage show.
‘Then follow Me, your Origin assert,
‘And every Godlike Quality exert.
‘O'ercome your Passions, set your Mind at Rest,
‘Be but your Self; be brave, and then be blest.

The youthful Hero, now by Reason taught,
To Virtue's Side apparently is wrought.
His Doubts dispel'd, his Looks assur'd appear,
And Words, like these, his Soul's Resolve declare.

‘Hence, softning Pleasure and inglorious Ease—
‘To Virtue sacred be my future Days.
‘Lead, honest Goddess, lead thy Servant on:
‘Under thy Conduct what may not be done?
‘Aided by Thee, all Dangers I'll defy,
‘Deserve to be a God, and then ascend the Sky.

Pleasure, converted to a Fury, fled;
While Virtue by the Hand her Hero led,
Confirm'd his Choice, and fortify'd his Mind
To labour for the Good of human Kind.