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Like varying winds, by other passions toft,
This drives them constant to a certain coast.
Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please,
Or (oft more strong than all) the love of eafe ;

Through life 'tis follow'd, ev’n at life's expence;
The merchant's toil, the fage's indolence,
The monk's humility, the hero's pride,
All, all alike, find Reason on their fide.
Th’ Eternal Art, educing good from ill,

175 Grafts on this Passion our best principle: 'Tis thus the Mercury of Man is fix'd, Strong grows the Virtue with his nature mix'd; The dross cements what else were too refin’d, And in one interest body acts with mind,

180 As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care, On savage stocks inserted learn to bear; The surest Virtues thus from Passions shoot, Wild Nature's vigour working at the root. What crops

of wit and honesty appear
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear !
See anger, zeal and fortitude supply ;
Ev'n avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy ;
Lust, through some certain strainers well refin'd,
Is gentle love, and charms all womankind;

Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a Nave,
Is emulation in the learn’d or brave;
Nor Virtue, male or female, can we name,
But what will grow on Pride, or grow on Shame.

Thus VARIATION. After ver. 194. in the MS.

How oft, with Passion, Virtue points her Charms ! Then shines the Hero, then the Patriot warms.



Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride)

195 The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd : Reason the byas turns to good from ills And Neto reigns a Titus, if he will. The fiery soul abhor'd in Catiline, In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine :

200 The fame ambition can destroy or save, And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.

This light and darkness in our chaos joind,
What shall divide ? The God within the mind.

Extremes in Nature equal ends produce,
In man they join to some mysterious use;
Though each by turns the other's bound invade,
'As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade,
And oft so mix, the difference is too nice
Where ends the Virtue, or begins the Vice.

Peleus' great Son, or Brutus, who had known,
Had Lucrece been a Whore, or Helen none ?
But Virtues oppofite to make agree,
That, Reason! is thy task, and worthy Thee.
Hard talk, cries Bibulus, and Reason weak.

- Make it a point, dear Marquess, or a pique.
Once, for a whim, persuade yourself to pay
A debt to reason, like a debt at play.
For right or wrong, have mortals fuffer'd more?
B-for his Prince, or ** for his Whore ?
Whose self-denials nature most control ?
His, who would save a Sixpence, or his Soul?
Web for his health, a Chartreux for his sin,
Contend they not which soonest shall grow thin?
What we resolve, we can: but here's the fault,
We ne'er resolve to do the thing we ought.




Fools who from hence into the notion fall,
That Vice or Virtue there is none at all,
If white and black blend, foften, and unite
A thousand ways, is there no black or white?
Ak your own heart, and nothing is so plain ;

215 'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.

Vice is a monster of fo frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace. But where th’ Extreme of Vice, was ne'er agreed : Alk where's the North ? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. No creature owns it in the first degree,

225 But thinks his neighbour further gone than he : Ev’n those who dwell beneath its very zone, Or never feel the ragé, or never own; What happier natures shrink at with affright, The hard inhabitant contends is right.

Virtuous VARIATIONS. After ver. 2zo. in the first Edition followed these,

A Cheat! A Whore! who starts not at the name,

In all the Inns of Court or Drury-lane ?
After ver. 226. in the MS.

The Colonel swear's the Agent is a dog,
The Scrivener vows th’ Attorney is a rogue.
Against the Thief th' Attorney loud inveighs,
For whose ten pounds the County twenty pays.
The Thief damns Judges, and the Knaves of State ;
And dying, mourns small Villains hang'd by great.


Virtuous and vicious every Man must be, Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree; The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wile; And ev'n the best, by fits, what they despise. 'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill;

235 For, Vice or Virtue, Self-directs it till; Each individual seeks a several goal; But Heaven's great view, is one, and that the Whole. That counter works each folly and caprice; That disappoints th' effect of every vice;

240 That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd : Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride. Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief: To kings prefumption, and to crowds belief: That, Virtue's ends from vanity can raise,

245 Which seeks no intereft, no reward but praises And build on wants, and on defects of mind, The joy, the peace, the glory of Mankind.

Heaven forming each on other to defend, A master or a servant, or a friend,

250 Bids each on other for assistance call, "Till one Man's weakness grows the strength of all. Wants, frailties, paffions, clofer still ally The common interest, or endear the tie. To these we owe true friendship, love fincere, 255 Each home-felt joy that life inherits here; Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, Those joys, those loves, those interests, to refign; Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, To welcome death, and calmly pass away. 260 E 2

Whate'er 265


Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
Not one will change his neighbour with himself.
The learnid is happy nature to explore,
The fool is happy that he knows no more;
The rich is happy in the plenty given,

contents him with the care of Heaven.
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple fing,
The sot a hero, lunatic a king;
The starving chemist in his golden vievrs
Supremely blest, the poet in his Muse.

See fome Strange comfort every state attend,
And pride beltow'd on all, a common friend :
See some fit passion every age supply,
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw : Some livelier play-thing gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite : Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age : 280 Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before ;. Till tir'd he sleeps, and Life's poor play is o'er. Meanwhile Opinion gilds with varying rays Those painted clouds that beautify our days ; Each want of happiness by hope fupply'd,

285 And each vacuity of sense by Pride : These build as fast as knowledge can destroy ; In folly's cup ftill laughs the bubble, joy ; One prospect loft, another still we gain ; And not a vanity is giv’n in vain ;


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