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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 save,
As Juftice tears his body from the grave;
When what t'oblivion better were refign'd,
Is hung on high, to poifon half mankind.
All fame is foreign, but of true desert ;

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Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:

One felf-approving hour whole years out-weighs

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Of stupid ftarers, and of loud huzzas ;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæfar with a fenate at his heels.

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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 fave a finking land? 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:
How much of other each is fure to coft;
How each for other oft is wholly lost;

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How inconfiftent greater goods with these;

How fometimes life is rifqu'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:
If Parts allure thee, think how Bacon fhin'd,
The wifeft, brighteft, meaneft of mankind:
Or ravish'd with the whiftling of a Name,
See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!

NOTES.

VER. 281, 283. If Parts | allure thee, Or ravish'd with the whiffling of a Name,] Thefe two inftances are chosen with great judgment; the world, perhaps, doth not afford two other fuch. Bacon difcovered and laid down those principles, by the affiftance of which Newton was enabled to unfold the whole law of Nature. He was no lefs eminent for the creative power of his imagination, the brightnefs of his thoughts, and the force of his expreffion: Yet being convicted and punished for

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bribery and corruption in the adminiftration of Juftice, while he prefided in the fupreme Court of Equity, he endeavoured to repair his ruined fortunes by the most profligate flattery to the Court: Which, from his very first entrance into it, he had accuftomed himself to practise with a prostitution that dif graceth the very profeffion of letters.

Cromwell feemeth to be diftinguished in the most eminent manner, with regard to his abilities, from all other great and wicked

If all, united, thy ambition call,

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From ancient story learn to fcorn 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 steps their glory grows,
- From dirt and fea-weed as proud Venice rofe;
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,
And all that rais'd the Hero, funk the Man:
NOTES.

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were the monuments of "the kings of many diffe

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rent nations, as Scotland, "Ireland, Norway, and the Ifle of Man. THIS (faid

men, who have overturned | Sachavarel, in his Voyage the Liberties of their Coun- to I-columbkill, defcribing try. The times, in which the church there, tells us, others fucceeded in this at- that "In one corner is a petempt, were fuch as faw the "culiar inclosure, in which fpirit of Liberty suppressed and ftifled by a general luxury and venality: But Cromwell fubdued his country, when this fpirit was at its height, by a fuccessful ftruggle againft court-oppreffion; and while it was conducted and fupported by a fet of the greatest Geniuses for government the world ever faw embarked together in one common caufe.

VER 283. Or ravish'd with the whifiling of a Name.] And even this fantaftic glory fometimes fuf fers a terrible reverse.

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the person who fhewed me "place, pointing to a plain "ftone) was the monument "of the Great TEAGUE, king of Ireland. I had never heard of him, and "could not but reflect of "how little value is Great“ness that has barely left a 66 name fcandalous to a na"tion, and a grave which "the meaneft of mankind "would never envy."

Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,

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But ftain'd with blood, or ill exchang'd for gold:

Then see them broke with toils, or funk in ease,
Or infamous for plunder'd provinces.

Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame

E'er taught to shine, or fanctify'd from fhame! 300
What greater bliss attends their close of life?
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife.
The trophy'd arches, ftory'd halls invade

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And haunt their flumbers in the pompous fhade.
Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray, 305
Compute the morn and ev'ning 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 taftes the good without the fall to ill;
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,

And if it lofe, attended with no pain:

VARIATIONS.

After 316. in the MS.

Ev'n while it seems unequal to difpofe,

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· 310

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And checquers all the good Man's joys with woes,

Without fatiety, tho' e'er so 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:

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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 bless'd;

And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 325 Since but to wish more Virtue, is to gain.

See the fole blifs Heav'n 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 miss; the good, untaught, will find; Slave to no fect, who takes no private road, But looks thro' Nature, up to Nature's God;

VARIATION S.

'Tis but to teach him to support each state,
With patience this, with moderation that;
And raise his base on that one folid joy,

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Which conscience gives, and nothing can destroy. These lines are extremely finished. In which there is fuch a foothing fweetness in the melancholy harmony of the verfification, as if the poet was then in that tender office in which he was moft officious, and in which all his Soul came out, the condoling with fome good man in affliction.

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