The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas ... In seven volumes. A new edition |
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EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. |
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 | The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas |  |
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EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.
[_]
The design of this Epistle is to show, that true happiness consists in self-knowledge, and that we deceive ourselves when we seek for it elsewhere than in our own minds.
H---, for friendship born, and skill'd to please,
Who keep or silence or discourse with ease,
Teach me, I pray, if I should silence hold,
Or bent on rhyming, in discourse be bold:
Shall I, who meditate some jingling line,
Shall I in satire urge my Muse to shine?
And from that fertile soil of pleasant thorn,
Keep vice in dread with my capricious scorn?
Time was, and you remember well the time,
I tried, though not for fame, satiric rhime;
E're my young Muse, though fond and promptly fir'd,
Had yet to wisdom's sacred name aspir'd:
Though still my youthful hairs unchang'd remain,
And show no signs of age's coming reign;
Though in my life I scarce have dropp'd the boy,
Enamour'd more I grow of sapient joy;
Three years 'bove twenty, I prefer my ease
To all the glory of difficulties.
If they who blame have envy in their spite
I hate their meanness, while I hold them light.
If Hecate's fang, or Anser's nibbling galls,
I think a moment and resentment falls:
As the firm lion to the mouse, I try
To treat with scorn and pass such meanness by:
I strive to conquer all my native bile,
And view detractors with a patient smile.
Who keep or silence or discourse with ease,
Teach me, I pray, if I should silence hold,
Or bent on rhyming, in discourse be bold:
Shall I, who meditate some jingling line,
Shall I in satire urge my Muse to shine?
And from that fertile soil of pleasant thorn,
Keep vice in dread with my capricious scorn?
Time was, and you remember well the time,
I tried, though not for fame, satiric rhime;
E're my young Muse, though fond and promptly fir'd,
Had yet to wisdom's sacred name aspir'd:
Though still my youthful hairs unchang'd remain,
And show no signs of age's coming reign;
Though in my life I scarce have dropp'd the boy,
Enamour'd more I grow of sapient joy;
Three years 'bove twenty, I prefer my ease
To all the glory of difficulties.
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I hate their meanness, while I hold them light.
If Hecate's fang, or Anser's nibbling galls,
I think a moment and resentment falls:
As the firm lion to the mouse, I try
To treat with scorn and pass such meanness by:
I strive to conquer all my native bile,
And view detractors with a patient smile.
Her arms philosophy round reason throws,
My faults henceforth I deem my only foes.
'Tis error I would shun, to virtue fly;
Myself I wish to know, and there apply:
Chiefly to that be now my hours resign'd,
The important study of an anxious mind.
With instruments prepar'd, let others solve
If Sol be fix'd, or on his poles revolve;
If Saturn in his course so far remove
As to our sight a parallax may prove.
Let others vainly toil to find a cause
Why nature's plenum yields to motion's laws;
Or for a void new substances supply,
That dry and moist throughout the system fly:
For me, on this life's sea which we explore,
I strive to furnish out a skiff and oar;
To regulate desire, the tempest check,
And, if I can, save reason from a wreck.
My faults henceforth I deem my only foes.
'Tis error I would shun, to virtue fly;
Myself I wish to know, and there apply:
Chiefly to that be now my hours resign'd,
The important study of an anxious mind.
With instruments prepar'd, let others solve
If Sol be fix'd, or on his poles revolve;
If Saturn in his course so far remove
As to our sight a parallax may prove.
Let others vainly toil to find a cause
Why nature's plenum yields to motion's laws;
Or for a void new substances supply,
That dry and moist throughout the system fly:
For me, on this life's sea which we explore,
I strive to furnish out a skiff and oar;
To regulate desire, the tempest check,
And, if I can, save reason from a wreck.
The universal search is peace of mind:
This happy peace we in ourselves must find.
The fool, whom errors and whom vapours fill,
Ill in the city, in the country ill,
In vain may mount his steed to fly chagrin,
It mounts behind, he gallops with the spleen.
This happy peace we in ourselves must find.
247
Ill in the city, in the country ill,
In vain may mount his steed to fly chagrin,
It mounts behind, he gallops with the spleen.
'Mid horrors, tumults, war, and far from home,
What urged the Macedonian chief to roam?
His vapour'd soul knew not to conquer spleen,
Himself he fear'd, and from himself would screen.
This to Aurora's clime the madman bore,
Where Persians scorch'd, their scorching star adore.
What urged the Macedonian chief to roam?
His vapour'd soul knew not to conquer spleen,
Himself he fear'd, and from himself would screen.
This to Aurora's clime the madman bore,
Where Persians scorch'd, their scorching star adore.
Unhappy authors of our self-rais'd woes,
Each moment drives us from our wish'd repose.
Why in the bosoms of new worlds descend,
And ravish gold? to answer what great end?
Content so sought on land and sea; content
Is here, in Orkney, on the Continent:
The icy climate of the pole endures,
Nor flies the tropic, where the cane matures:
We cannot draw it from Potosi's veins,
The man who covets least the most obtains:
But blind to peace, nor knowing what we want,
What least we need, we pray of Heaven to grant.
Each moment drives us from our wish'd repose.
Why in the bosoms of new worlds descend,
And ravish gold? to answer what great end?
Content so sought on land and sea; content
Is here, in Orkney, on the Continent:
The icy climate of the pole endures,
Nor flies the tropic, where the cane matures:
We cannot draw it from Potosi's veins,
The man who covets least the most obtains:
But blind to peace, nor knowing what we want,
What least we need, we pray of Heaven to grant.
“Oh! that a friendly cold, e'er frosts retire,
“Relieving from his ills my wretched sire,
“Peace to his soul! would lifeless lay his head,
“And pleasing sables round his mansion spread;
“That day enrich'd by his departed breath,
“My soul would little grudge the pomp of death:”
Cried, some time since, mild, gentle, and in health,
The needy heir of yon great agent's wealth;
Who, to prepare for him that joyous day,
Toil'd forty years of hapless life away.
“Relieving from his ills my wretched sire,
“Peace to his soul! would lifeless lay his head,
“And pleasing sables round his mansion spread;
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“My soul would little grudge the pomp of death:”
Cried, some time since, mild, gentle, and in health,
The needy heir of yon great agent's wealth;
Who, to prepare for him that joyous day,
Toil'd forty years of hapless life away.
Death heard the pray'r the kinsman to endow:
Now see him rich; and is he happier now?
Vain of its glare, and by his wealth engross'd,
Eager of novel dignity to boast;
Though white with flour, descended of the mill,
The blazon'd vellum pompous titles fill:
A thousand projects, useless, silly, vain,
For ever rise, and skim his wand'ring brain:
Now fool, now haughty, impudent, baboon,
Now scheming, sulking, sadly out of tune:
Still like his sires how much more blest the fool,
If in a frock with meal he charg'd his mule!
Now see him rich; and is he happier now?
Vain of its glare, and by his wealth engross'd,
Eager of novel dignity to boast;
Though white with flour, descended of the mill,
The blazon'd vellum pompous titles fill:
A thousand projects, useless, silly, vain,
For ever rise, and skim his wand'ring brain:
Now fool, now haughty, impudent, baboon,
Now scheming, sulking, sadly out of tune:
Still like his sires how much more blest the fool,
If in a frock with meal he charg'd his mule!
But keep this reasoning from the vulgar ear,
Whose dazzled eyes see bliss in pomp appear;
Wealth, wealth they cry, 'tis barren all beside,
And virtue without wealth is useless pride;
Wealth honest fame in scoundrel souls can lodge,
And wealth alone at court can make a judge.
Whose dazzled eyes see bliss in pomp appear;
Wealth, wealth they cry, 'tis barren all beside,
And virtue without wealth is useless pride;
Wealth honest fame in scoundrel souls can lodge,
And wealth alone at court can make a judge.
Devoid of faith, of honour, and of soul,
“Me, if it will, let infamy enroll,
“Whilst I can merit in my coffers hold,
“And tell a thousand virtues out in gold.”—
In comfort to himself, rich Clotho cried,
Who felt all want of sense by wealth supplied.
With me, who of the glare can well dispense,
And in the rank of goods place mind and sense,
Mild-temper'd Hough hath always higher stood
Than rogues who fatten on their country's blood.
“Me, if it will, let infamy enroll,
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“And tell a thousand virtues out in gold.”—
In comfort to himself, rich Clotho cried,
Who felt all want of sense by wealth supplied.
With me, who of the glare can well dispense,
And in the rank of goods place mind and sense,
Mild-temper'd Hough hath always higher stood
Than rogues who fatten on their country's blood.
Not that I boast the spirit of the sage,
Who finding wealth too much the mind engage,
His teeming purses buried in the sea
To feed his vanity and cry, I'm free!
Of reason's sway the juster line I know:
But I maintain that while confin'd below,
With nought of splendour and with little rent,
Honour and virtue still may live content.
Why then so busy? why our lives destroy
In idle projects and such vain employ?
The doctrine I advance, and think refin'd,
From earliest childhood has enflam'd my mind.
Who finding wealth too much the mind engage,
His teeming purses buried in the sea
To feed his vanity and cry, I'm free!
Of reason's sway the juster line I know:
But I maintain that while confin'd below,
With nought of splendour and with little rent,
Honour and virtue still may live content.
Why then so busy? why our lives destroy
In idle projects and such vain employ?
The doctrine I advance, and think refin'd,
From earliest childhood has enflam'd my mind.
A life of energy and study o'er,
Death call'd my father to a brighter shore;
He left for those behind a world of cares,
Example active, but confus'd affairs.
Soon then aspiring to a noble trade,
I wish'd, to grace my hat, a smart cockade.
I glow'd with heroes to enrol my name:
Till disappointment quench'd the martial flame.
Then to the bar I'm urg'd, the bar I shun
To wander near the streams of Helicon.
My friends alarm'd turn pale, and groaning see
A love of rhyming shooting out in me:
With horror view the Muse at madding sports,
Or slumbering over statutes and reports.
Then in full concert all aloud pronounce
That from that moment I must wealth renounce.
Agreed: and since unable to acquire,
For wealth I'll early learn to curb desire:
And chiefly 'gainst dependent smiles aware,
Unblemish'd truth becomes my highest care.
With such intention and so sad a trade,
Canst tell, my friend, who e'er a fortune made?
Death call'd my father to a brighter shore;
He left for those behind a world of cares,
Example active, but confus'd affairs.
Soon then aspiring to a noble trade,
I wish'd, to grace my hat, a smart cockade.
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Till disappointment quench'd the martial flame.
Then to the bar I'm urg'd, the bar I shun
To wander near the streams of Helicon.
My friends alarm'd turn pale, and groaning see
A love of rhyming shooting out in me:
With horror view the Muse at madding sports,
Or slumbering over statutes and reports.
Then in full concert all aloud pronounce
That from that moment I must wealth renounce.
Agreed: and since unable to acquire,
For wealth I'll early learn to curb desire:
And chiefly 'gainst dependent smiles aware,
Unblemish'd truth becomes my highest care.
With such intention and so sad a trade,
Canst tell, my friend, who e'er a fortune made?
Content with little, and the love of those
Who mark the line 'twixt riches and repose,
Condemn me H---, if e'er drawn aside
By gaudy shackles of new kindled pride,
Or prompt the law of interest vile to own,
I seek my peace but in my mind alone.
Who mark the line 'twixt riches and repose,
Condemn me H---, if e'er drawn aside
By gaudy shackles of new kindled pride,
Or prompt the law of interest vile to own,
I seek my peace but in my mind alone.
| The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas | |