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'Tis never to be bought, but always free, And fled from Monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee.

Alk of the Learn’d the way? The Learn'd are blind; This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind; Some place the bliss in action, sonie in eafe, Tho fe call it pleafure, and contentment these ; Some funk to Beasts, find pleasure end in pain; Some swellid to Gods, confess ev'n Virtue vain; Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, To trust in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all.

Who thus define it, say they more or less Than this, that Happiness is Happiness?

Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave; All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; 30 Obvious her goods, in no'extreme they dwell; There needs but thinking right and meaning well; And mourn our various portions as we please, Equal is Common Sense, and Common Ease. Remember, Man, « the Universal Cause

35 “ Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;" And makes, what Happiness we justly call, Subfift, not in the good of one, but all.

There's not a blessing Individuals find, But some way loans and hearkens to the kind, 40 No Bandit fierce, no Tyrant mad with pride, No cavern'a Hermit refts felf-satisfy'd : Who moft to shun or hate mankind pretend,

an'admirer, or would fix a friend : Meinet what others feel, what others think,

45 All pleasures ficken, and all glories fink: Each has his share; and who would more obtain, Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.

Order is Heav'n's first law; and this confert, Some are, and must be, greater than the rest,

50 More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence That such are happier, shocks all common sense. Heav'n to Mankind impartial we confess, If all are equal in their Happiness : But mutual wants this Happiness increase;

55 All Nature's diff'rence keeps all Nature's peace.



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Condition, circumstance, is not the thing;
Bliss is the fame in fubject or in king,
In who obtain defence, or who defend,
In him who is, or him who finds a friend :

Heav'n breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole
One common blessing, as one common foul.
But fortune's gifts if each alike poffeft,
And each were equal, must not all contest?
If then to all Men Happiness was meant,
God in external8 could not place Content.

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, i
And these be happy calld, unhappy those ;
But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear,
While those are plac'd in Hope, and these in Fear : 70
Not present good or ill, the joy or curse,
But future views of better or of worfe.

Oh son's of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies?
Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil furveys, 75
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.

Know, all the good that individuals find,
Dr God and Nature meant to mere Mankind,
Reason’s whole pleasure all the joys of Sense,
Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence. 80
But Health confifts with Temperance alone;

And Peace, oh Virtue ! Peace is all thy owg...
"The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain;
But these less taste them, as they worse obtain.
Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,

Who risk the most, that take wrong means or right?
Of Vice or Virtue, whether bleft or curst,
Which' meets contempt, or which compaflion first?
Count all th' advantage prosp'rous Vice attains,
Tis but what Virtue Lies from and disdains:
And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd,
One they must want, which is, to pass for good.

Oh blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below,
Who fancy Bliss to Vice, to Virtue Woe!
Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, 95
Best knows the Elelling, and will most be blest.



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But fools the Good aloné, unhappy call,
For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See FALKLAND dies, the virtuoụs and the just !
See god-like TURENNE prostrate on the duit ! 100
See SIDNEY bleeds amid the martial strife !
Was this their Virtue, or Contempt of Life?".
Say, was it Virtue, more tho? Heav'n ne'er gave,
Lamented DIGøy! funk thee to the grave?
Tell me, if Virtue' made the Son expire,

Why, full of days and honour, lives the Sire?
Why drew Marseilles' good Bishop purer breath,
When Nature ficken'd, and each gale was death?
Or why so long (in life if long can be)
Leắt Heav'n a parent to the poor and me?

What makes all physical or moral ill?
There deviates Nature, and here wanders Will.
God fends not ill; if rightly understood,
Or partial Ill is universal Good,
Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall :

Short, and but rare, till Man improv'd it all.
We just as wisely might of Heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was destroyed by Cailly
As that the virtuous fon is ill at ease
When his lewd father

the dire disease.

120 Think we, like fome weak Prince, th' Eternal Cause', Prone for his fav’rites to reverse his laws?

Shall burning Ætna, if a fage requires, Forget to thunder, and recall her fires ? On air or sea new motions be imprest,

125 Oh blameless Bethel !. to relieve thy breast ! When the loofé mountain trembles from on high, Shall gravitation cease, if you go by ? Or fome old temple, nodding to its fall, For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall? 13.0

But still this world (so fitted for the knave) Contents us not. A better fall we have ? A kingdom of the suit then let it be: But firit. conlider how those Just agree. The good must merit God's peculiar care; 1,35 But who, but God, can tell us who they are ?

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One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own Spirit fell;
Another deems him inftrument of hell;
If Calvin feel Heav'n's blefling, or its rod,
This cries there is, and that, there is no God 140
That shocks one part will edify the rest,
Nor with one system can they all be blest.
The very best will varioully incline,
And what rewards your Virtue, punish mine.
WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.-This world, 'tis true,
Was made for Caesar-but for Titus too :

140 And which more bļest? who chain'd his country, say, Or he whole Virtue figh’d to lose a day?

" But sometimes Virtue starves, while Vice is fed.” What then? Is the reward of Virtue bread ?

159 That, Vice may merit,, 'tis the price of toil.;. The knave deferves' it, when he tills the soil, The knave deserve it, when he tempts the main, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. The good man may be weak, be indolent;

15 Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. But grant him Richies, your demand is o'er? • No Thall the good want Health, the good wants

Add Health, and Pow'r, and ev'ry earthly thing,

Why bounded Pow'r? why. private ? why no king? « Nay, why external for internal giv'n?

161 " Why is not Man a God, and Earth a Heav'n!" Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive God gives enough, while he has more to give : Immense the pow'r, immense were the demand; 165 Say, at what part of nature will they stand?

What nothing carthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm. sun-fhine, and the liéart-felt joy,
Is Virtue's prize: A better would you fix,
T'hen give Humility a coach and fix,

Justice a Conqu’ror's sword, or Truth a gown,
Or public Spirit its great cure, a Crown.
Weak, foolish Man! will Heav'n reward us there.
With the same trash mad mortals wish for here?
The Boy and Man an individual makes,

175 Yet figh's thou now for apples and for cakes?


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Go, like the Indian, in another life ..
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife :
As well as dream such trifles are aflign’d,
As toys and empires, for a god-like mind.. 180
Rewards, that either would to virtue bring
No joy, or be destructive of the thing :
How oft by these at fixty are undone
The Virtues of a faint at twenty-one !
To whom can Riches give Repute or Trust,
Content, or Pleafure, but the Good and Juft
Judges and Senates have been bought for gold,
Esteem and Love were never to be sold.
Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,
The lover and the love of human kind,

190 Whose life is healthful, arut whofe conscience clear, Because he wants a thousand pounds a year..

Honour and shame from no condition rise;
A&t well your part, there all the honour lies.
Fortune in Men has fome small diff'rence made,, 195
One flaunts in rags, one futters in brocade;
The cobler apron'd, and the parfon gown'd,
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd,
“ What differ more (you cry) thán crown and cowl?".
Tl tell you, friend ; a wise man and a fool.
You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monki,
Or, cobler-like, the parfon will be drunk,
Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunello.

Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with frings 205
That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings.
Boast the pure blood of an illuftrious race,
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’scoundrels ever since the flood,
Gó! and pretend your family is young
Nor own, your fathers have been fools fo long.
What can ennoble sots, or flaves, or cowards? 215
Alas! not all the blood of all the HOWARDS.


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