And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæfar with a fenate at his heels.
In Parts fuperior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wife?
'Tis but to know how little can be known;
To fee all others faults, and feel our own:
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge,
Without a fecond, or without a judge:

260

Truths would you teach, or save a finking land? 265
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
Painful preheminence! yourself to view

Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.

Bring then these bleffings to a strict account;

Make fair deductions; fee to what they mount:

270

How much of other each is fure to coft;

How each for other of is wholly loft;

How inconsistent greater goods with these ;

How fometimes life is risqu'd, and always ease:
Think, and if still the things thy envy call,

275

Say, would'st thou be the Man to whom they fall?
To figh for ribbands if thou art fo filly,

Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the paffion of thy life;

Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife.

280

If Parts allure thee, think how Bacon fhin'd,
The wifeft, brightest, meanest of mankind :
Or ravish'd with the whistling of a Name,
See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!

If

If all, united, thy ambition call,

From ancient story, learn to scorn them all.

There, in the rich, the honour'd, fam'd, and great,
See the falfe fcale of Happiness complete!

In hearts of Kings, or arms of Queens who lay,
How happy! those to ruin, these betray.
Mark by what wretched fteps their glory grows,
From dirt and fea-weed as proud Venice rofe;
In each how guilt and greatnefs equal ran,
And all that rais'd the Hero, funk the Man:
Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
But ftain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd for gold:
Then fee them broke with toils, or funk in ease,
Or infamous for plunder'd provinces.

285

290

295

O! wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame
E'er taught to fhine, or fanctify'd from shame!
What greater blifs attends their clofe of life?
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife,

300

The trophy'd arches, story'd halls invade,

And haunt their flumbers in the pompous fhade.
Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray,

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Compute the morn and evening to the day;
The whole amount of that enormous fame,

A Tale, that blends their glory with their shame!
Know then this truth (enough for Man to know)

"Virtue alone is happiness below."

The only point where human bliss stands still,
And tastes the good without the fall to ill;

310

Where

Where only Merit conftant pay receives,

Is bleft in what it takes, and what it gives;
The joy unequal'd, if its end it gain,

315

And if it lose, attended with no pain:
Without fatiety, though e'er fo bless'd,

And but more relifh'd as the more diftrefs'd:
The broadeft mirth unfeeling Folly wears,

Lefs pleasing far than Virtue's very tears:

320

Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd,

For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd;

Never elated, while one man's opprefs'd;

Never dejected, while another's blest;

And where no wants, no wishes can remain,

325

Since but to wish more Virtue, is to gain.

See the fole blifs Heaven could on all bestow!
Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know :
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
The bad must mifs, the good, untaught, will find: 330
Slave to no fect, who takes no private road,

But looks through Nature, up to Nature's God:
Pursues that Chain which links th' immenfe defign,
Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine;

Sees,

VARIATION.

After ver. 316. in the MS.

Ev'n while it seems unequal to dispose,

And chequers all the good Man's joys with woes,
'Tis but to teach him to fupport each state.
With patience this, with moderation that;
And raife his bafe on that one folid joy,

Which confcience gives, and nothing can destroy.
VOL. II.
G

Sees, that no Being any bliss can know,

335

But touches fome above, and fome below;

Learns, from this union of the rifing Whole,

The first, last purpose of the human foul;

And knows where Faith, Law, Morals, all began,
All end, in LOVE OF GOD, and LOVE OF MAN. 340
For him alone, Hope leads from goal to goal,
And opens ftill, and opens on his foul;

Till lengthen'd on to FAITH, and unconfin'd,
the blifs that fills up all the mind.

pours

It
He fees, why Nature plants in Man alone

345

Hope of known bliss, and Faith in bliss unknown:

(Nature, whofe dictates to no other kind

Are given in vain, but what they seek they find)

Wife is her prefent; fhe connects in this

His greatest Virtue with his greatest Bliss;

350

At once his own bright prospect to be blest,

And strongest motive to affift the rest.

Self-love thus push'd to focial, to divine,

Gives thee to make thy neighbour's bleffing thine.
Is this too little for the boundless heart?

355

Extend it, let thy enemies have part:

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

In one close fyftem of Benevolence :

Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,

And height of Bliss but height of Charity.

God loves from Whole to Parts: but human foul
Muft rife from Individual to the Whole.
Self-love but ferves the virtuous mind to wake,

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;

360

The

The centre mov'd, a circle ftrait fucceeds,

Another still, and still another spreads;

Friend, parent, neighbour, firft it will embrace;
His country next; and next all human race;

Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
Take every creature in, of every kind;

365

370

Earth fmiles around, with boundless bounty bleft,
And Heaven beholds its image in his breast.

Come then, my Friend! my Genius! come along; Oh master of the poet, and the fong!

And while the Mufe now ftoops, or now afcends, 375
To Man's low paffions, or their glorious ends,

Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper rife;

Form'd by thy converfe, happily to steer,

From grave to gay,

from lively to fevere;

Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,

Intent to reason, or polite to please.

Oh! while along the ftream of Time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;

Say, fhall my little bark attendant fail,
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?

380

385

When

VARIATION.

Ver. 373. Come then, my Friend! &c.] In the MS. thus, And now transported o'er so vaft a plain,

While the wing'd courfer flies with all her rein, While heaven-ward now her mounting wing the feels, Now fcatter'd fools fly trembling from her heels, Wilt thou, my St. John! keep her course in fight, Confine her fury, and affifther flight?