And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, 340 345 Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown: (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find) Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, 350 Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. 355 Extend it, let thy enemies have part; Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense, In one close system of benevolence : Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 360 God loves from whole to parts; but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 365 Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace, Wide and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind Take every creature in, of every kind; 370 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, O master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, 375 380 Intent to reason, or polite to please. O! while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 385 Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Thou wert my guide, philosopher and friend! 390 That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart; That reason, passion, answer one great aim; 395 THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. DEO OPTIMO MAXIMO. FATHER of All! in ev'ry age, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Thou Great First Cause, least understood Who all my sense confin'd To know but this, that Thou art good, Yet gave me, in this dark estate, And, binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human will. What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, What blessings thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, Yet not to earth's contracted span, Let not this weak, unknowing hand If I am right, thy grace impart, Save me alike from foolish pride, Teach me to feel another's wo; Mean though I am, not wholly so, Through this day's life or death. This day be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, And let thy will be done. To Thee, whose temple is all space, ODE ON SOLITUDE.* HAPPY the man whose wish and care In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Bless'd, who can unconcern'dly find Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Steal from the world, and not a stone * This was a very early production of Mr. Pope, written when he was about twelve years old. |