Thy lays inftructive to the world hadst giv❜n,
Nor greatly justified the laws of heav'n.
Let fatire blaft with every mark of hate,
The vain afpirer, or dishonest great,
Whom love of wealth, or wild ambition's fway
Push forward, ftill regardless of the way;
High and more high who aim with restless pride,
Where neither reason nor fair virtue guide:
And him, the wretch, who labors on with pain,
For the low lucre of an useless gain,
(Wife but to get, and active but to save)
May scorn deferv'd still follow to the grave.
But he who fond to raise a fplendid name,
On life's ambitious height would fix his fame,
In active arts, or vent'rous arms would shine,
Yet fhuns the paths which virtue bids decline;
Who dignifies his wealth by gen'rous use,
To raise th' oppress'd, or merit to produce
Shall reafon's voice impartial e'er condemn
The glorious purpose of so wise an aim?
Where virtue regulates this juft defire,
"Twere dangerous folly to fupprefs its fire.
Say, whence could fame fupply (its force unknown) Her roll illuftrious of fair renown?
What laurels prompt the hero's useful rage ?
What prize the patriot's weighty toils engage?
Each public paffion bound to endless frost,
Each deed of focial worth for ever loft.
O! may the Muse inspire the love of praise,
Raise the bright paffion, but with judgment raise !
For this fhe oft has tun'd her facred voice,
Call'd forth the patriot, and approv'd his choice;
Bid him the steep ascent to honor take,
Nor, 'till the fummit gain'd, her paths forfake.
Yet not fuccefs alone true fame attends;
He too fhall reach it who but well intends.
See 'midft the vanquish'd virtuous, * Falkland lies
His gen'rous efforts vain, and vain his fighs;
Yet true to merit faithful records tell,
To distant ages how the patriot fell:
Bleft youth! infur'd the sweetest voice of praise,
Who lives approv'd in Pope's unrival❜d lays.
Grave precepts fleeting notions may impart,
But bright example beft inftructs the heart:
Then look on Patrius, let his conduct shew
From active life what various bleffings flow.
He was killed in the civil wars: fee his character at large in Clarendon's history.
In him a just ambition ftands confefs'd;
It warms, but not inflames, his equal breaft.
See him in fenates act the patriot's part,
Truth on his lips, the public at his heart;
There neither fears can awe, nor hopes controul,
The honest purpose of his fteady foul.
No mean attachments e'er feduc'd his tongue
To gild the cause his heart fufpected wrong;
But deaf to envy, faction, fpleen, his voice
Joins here, or there, as reason guides his choice.
To one great point his faithful labors tend,
And all his toils in Britain's intereft end.
To him each neighbour fafe refers his claim,
The right he settles, and abates the flame.
Nor arts nor worth to Patrius fue in vain,
Nor unreliev'd the injur'd e'er complain.
For him the hand unfeen, are pray'rs prefer'd,
And grateful vows in diftant temples heard;
Like nature's bleffings to no part confin'd,
His well-pois'd bounty reaches all mankind,
That infolence of wealth, the pomp of state
Which crowds the manfions of the vainly great,
Flies far the limits of his modest gate.
Just what is elegantly ufeful's there;
Of aught beyond he fcorns th' unworthy care; Nor would, for all the trim that pride can fhow, One fingle act of social aid forego;
For this he labors to improve his ftore,'
For this he wishes to enlarge his pow'r;
This is his life's great purpofe, end, and aim: Such true ambition is, and worthy fame.
How different Rapax spent his worthless hour! With treasure indigent, a flave with pow'r : Large fums o'erlooking, ftill intent on more, He wasted, not enjoy'd, his tafteless store. His growing greatness rais'd his hopes the high'r, And fan'd his restless pride's increafing fire. 'Twas thus amidst prosperity he pin'd; For what can fill the falfe-ambitious mind? With all the honors that his prince could give, With all the wealth his av'rice could receive, 'Midft outward opulence, but inward care, Reproach and want was all he left his heir.
'Tis true, the patriot well deferves his fame, And from his country just applause may claim. But what avails it to the world befide, That Brutus bravely ftab'd, or Curtius dy'd?
While Tully's merit, unconfin'd to place,
Diffuses bleffings down through all our race;
Remotest times his learned labors reach,
And Rome's great moralift ev'n now fhall teach.
Averse to public noise, ambition's strife,
And all the fplendid ills of bufy life,
Through latent paths, unmark'd by vulgar eye,
Are there who wish to pass unheeded by ?
Whom calm retirement's facred pleasures move,
The hour contemplative, or friend they love;
Yet not by fpleen, or fuperftition led,
Forbear ambition's giddy heights to tread;
Who not inglorious spend their peaceful day,
Whilst science, lovely star! directs their way?
Flows there not fomething good from fuch as these?
No useful product from the men of ease?
And fhall the Mufe no focial merit boast?
Are all her vigils to the public loft?
Though noify pride may scorn her filent toil,
Fair are the fruits which bless her happy foil:
There every plant of useful produce grows,
There science sprang, and thence inftruction flows;
There true philosophy erects her school,
There plans her problem, and there forms her rule;
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