To join the object of his warm defires,
Thence to fequefter'd fhades, and streams retires,
And there delights his paffion to rehearse
In wifdom's facred voice, or in harmonious verfe.
To me most happy therefore he appears,
Who having once, unmov'd by hopes or fears,
Survey'd this fun, earth, ocean, clouds, and flame,
Well fatisfy'd returns from whence he came.
Is life a hundred years, or e'er so few,
'Tis repetition all, and nothing new:
A fair, where thousands meet, but none can ftay,
An inn, where travellers bait, then post away;
A fea, where man perpetually is toft,
Now plung'd in bus'nefs, now in trifles loft:
Who leave it first, the peaceful port first gain;
Hold then! no farther launch into the main :
Contract your fails; life nothing can bestow
By long continuance, but continu'd woe:
The wretched privilege daily to deplore
The funerals of our friends, who go before:
Difeafes, pains, anxieties, and cares,
And age furrounded with a thousand fnares.
But whither hurry'd by a generous scorn
Of this vain world, ah, whither am I borne ?
Let's not unbid th' Almighty's ftandard quit,
Howe'er fevere our poft, we must submit,
Cou'd I a firm perfuafion once attain That after death no being wou'd remain ;
To thofe dark fhades I'd willingly descend,
Where all muit fleep, this drama at an end:
Nor life accept, altho' renew'd by Fate
Ev'n from its earliest, and its happiest ftate.
Might I from Fortune's bounteous hand receive
Each boon, each bleffing in her pow'r to give,
Genius, and science, morals, and good-sense,
Unenvy'd honors, wit and eloquence,
A numerous offspring to the world well known
Both for paternal virtues, and their own;
Ev'n at this mighty price I'd not be bound
To tread the fame dull circle round, and round;
The foul requires enjoyments more fublime,
By space unbounded, undestroy'd by time.
OD then thro' all creation gives, we find,
Sufficient marks of an indulgent mind,
Excepting in ourselves; ourselves of all
His works the chief on this terrestrial ball,
His own bright image, who alone unbleft
Feel ills perpetual, happy all the rest.
But hold, prefumptuous? charge not heav'n's decrce
With fuch injuftice, fuch partiality.
Yet true it is, furvey we life around,
Whole hofts of ills on ev'ry fide are found;
Who wound not here and there by chance a foe,
But at the fpecies meditate the blow.
What millions perish by each others hands
In war's fierce rage? or by the dread commands .
Of tyrants languish out their lives in chains,
Or lose them in variety of pains?
What numbers pinch'd by want and hunger die,
In spite of Nature's liberality?
(Thofe, ftill more numerous, I to name disdain,
By lewdness, and intemperance justly flain ;)
What numbers, guiltless of their own disease,
Are fnatch'd by fudden death, or wafte by flow degrees?
Where then is Virtue's well deferv'd reward!
Let's pay to Virtue ev'ry due regard :
That she enables man, let us confefs,
To bear thofe evils, which fhe can't redrefs;
Gives hope, and confcious peace, and can affuage
Th' impetuous tempefts both of luft, and rage;
Yet fhe's a guard fo far from being fure,
That oft her friends peculiar ills endure:
Where Vice prevails severest is their fate,
Tyrants pursue them with a three-fold hate..
How many ftruggling in their country's caufe,
And from their country meriting applause,
Have fall'n by wretches fond to be inflav'd,
And perish'd by the hands themselves had fav'd?
Soon as fuperior worth appears in view,
See knaves, and fools united to purfue!
'The man fo form'd they all confpire to blame,
And Envy's pois'nous tooth attacks his fame;
Shou'd he at length, fo truly good and great,
Prevail, and rule with honest views the state,
Then must he toil for an ungrateful race,
Submit to clamor, libels, and disgrace ;
Threaten'd, oppos'd, defeated in his ends,
By foes feditious, and afpiring friends.
Hear this and tremble! all who wou'd be great,
Yet know not what attends that dang'rous wretched state.
Is private life from all these evils free?
Vice of all kinds, rage, envy there we see,
Deceit, that Friendship's mafk infidious wears,
Quarrels, and feuds, and law's intangling fnares.
But there are pleasures still in human life,
Domestic ease, a tender loving wife,
Children, whofe dawning fmiles your heart engage,
The grace, and comfort of foft-stealing age.
If happiness exifts, 'tis furely here
But are these joys exempt from care and fear?
Need I the miseries of that ftate declare,
When diff'rent paffions draw the wedded pair?.
Or fay how hard thofe paffions to difcern,
Ere the die's caft, and 'tis too late to learn?
Who can infure, that what is right, and good,
Thefe children fhall purfue? or if they fhou'd,
Death comes, when least you fear fo black a day,
And all your blooming hopes are fnatch'd away.
We fay not, that these ills from Virtue flow:
Did her wise precepts rule the world, we know
The golden ages wou'd again begin,
But 'tis our lot in this to fuffer, and to fin.
Obferving this, fome fages have decreed
That all things from two caufes muft proceed;
Two principles with equal pow'r endu’d,
This wholly evil, that fupremely good.
From this arise the miferies we endure,
Whilft that adminifters a friendly cure;
Hence life is chequer'd ftill with bliss, and woë,
Hence tares with golden crops promifcuous grow,
And poisonous ferpents make their dread repofe
Beneath the covert of the fragrant rofe.
Can fuch a system fatisfy the mind,
Are both these Gods in equal pow'r conjoin'd,
Or one fuperior? Equal if you fay,
Chaos returns, fince neither will obey.
Is one fuperior? good, or ill muft reign,
Eternal joy, or everlasting pain.
Whiche'er is conquer'd muft entirely yield,
And the victorious God enjoy the field.
Hence with these fictions of the Magi's brain!
Hence ouzy Nile, with all her monstrous train!
Or comes the Stoic nearer to the right ?
He holds, that whatsoever yields delight,
Wealth, fame, externals all, are useless things;
Himself half starving happier far than kings.
'Tis fine indeed to be fo wond'rous wife!
By the fame reas'ning too he pain denies;
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