You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with ftrings, That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings. blood of an illuftrious race, Boaft the pure In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece: But by your father's worth if your's you rate, Count me those only who were good and great. 210 Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood Has crept thro' fcroundels ever fince the flood, Go! and pretend your family is young; Nor own, your fathers have been fools fo long. VARIATIONS. VER. 207. Boaft the pure blood &c.] in the MS. thus, Down from Lucretia to Lucretia roll'd, COMMENTARY. VER. 205. Stuck o'er with titles,&c.] II. Then as toNOBILITY, by creation or birth; this too the poet fhews (from 204 to 217) is in itself as devoid of all real worth as the reft; because, in the first cafe, the Title is generally gain'd by no merit at all; in the fecond, by the merit of the firft Founder of the family; which will generally, when reflected on, be rather the subject of Mortification than Glory. What can ennoble fots, or flaves, or cowards? 215 Alas! not all the blood of all the HowARDS. Look next on Greatnefs; fay where Greatness lies? "Where, but among the Heroes and the Wife?" Heroes are much the fame, the point's agreed, From Macedonia's madman to the Swede; The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find Or make, an enemy of all mankind! COMMENTARY. 220 VER. 217. Look next on Greatness; &c.] III. The poet in the next place (from 216 to 237) unmasks the falfe pretences of GREATNESS; whereby it is feen that the Hero and Politician (the two characters that would monopolize that quality) after all their buftle effect only this, if they want Virtue, that the one NOTES. VER. 219. Heroes are much the fame, &c.] This character might have been drawn with much more force; and de ferved the poet's care. But Milton fupplies what is here wanting. They err who count it glorious to fubdue Not one looks backward, onward ftill he goes, 225 Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose. 230 Who wickedly is wife, or madly brave, Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 235 Like Socrates, that Man is great indeed. What's Fame? a fancy'd life in others breath, A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. COMMENTARY. proves himself a Fool, and the other a Knave: And Virtue they but too generally want; the art of Heroifm being underftood to confift in Ravage and Defolation, and the art of Politics in Circumvention. It is not fuccefs, therefore, that conftitutes true Greatness; but the end aimed at, and the means which are employed: And if these be right, Glory will be the reward, whatever be the iffue: Who noble ends by noble means obtains, VER. 237. What's Fame?] IV. With regard to FAME, Juft what you hear, you have, and what's unknown To all befide as much an empty shade 241 Alike or when, or where, they fhone, or fhine, 245 Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine. A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod; An honeft Man's the noble work of God. Fame but from death a villain's name can fave, As Justice tears his body from the grave; 250 When what t'oblivion better were refign'd, Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: COMMENTARY. 256 that ftill more fantastic bleffing, he fheweth (from 236 to 259) that all of it, befides what we hear ourselves, is merely nothing; and that even of this fmall portion, no more of it giveth the poffeffor a real fatisfaction, than what is the fruit of Virtue. Thus he fhews, that Honour, Nobility, Greatness, Glory, fo far as they have any thing real and substantial, that is, fo far as they contribute to the Happiness of the poffeffor, are the fole iffue of Virtue; and that neither Riches, Courts, Armies, nor the Populace, are capable of conferring them. And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, 260 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 bus'nefs or in arts to drudge, Without a fecond, or without a judge: Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? All fear, none aid you, and few understand. Painful preheminence! yourself to view Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. COMMENTARY. 266 VER. 259. In Parts superior what advantage lies?] V. But laftly, the poet proves (from y 258 to 269) that as no external goods can make man happy, fo neither is it in the power of all internal. For that even SUPERIOR PARTS bring no more real Happiness to the poffeffor than the reft; nay, that they put him into a worse condition; for that the quickness of apprehenfion and depth of penetration do but fharpen the miseries of life. NOTES. VER. 267. Painful prehe- | minence! &c.] This to his friend-nor does it at all con tradict what he had faid to him 'Tis never to be bought, but always free, For he is now proving that quirement, can make him happy here. The most plaufible rival of Virtue is Knowledge: yet even this is fo far from |