That

very Cæfar born in Scipio's days,

Had aim'd, like him, by Chastity at praise.
Lucullus, when Frugality could charm,

Had roasted turnips in the Sabin farm.

In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil, 220
But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile.
In this one Paffion man can strength enjoy,
As Fits give vigour, just when they destroy.

COMMENTARY.

VER. 222. In this one Paffion, &c.] But now it may be objected to our philofophic Poet, that he has indeed shewn the true means of coming to the knowledge and characters of men, by a Principle certain and infallible, when found; yet it is, by his own account, of fo difficult investigation, that its Counterfeit (and it is always attended with one) may be easily mistaken for it. To remove this difficulty, therefore, and confequently the objection that arifes from it the Poet has given (from Ver. 221 to 228.) one certain and infallible criterion of the Ruling Paffion: which is this, that all the other paffions, in the course of time, change and wear away; while this is ever conftant and vigorous; and ftill going on from ftrength to strength, to the very moment of its demolishing the miferable machine which it has now, at length overworked. Of this great truth, the Poet (from Ver. 227 to the end) gives various inftances, in all the principal Ruling Paf fions of our nature, as they are to be found in the Man of bufinefs, the Man of pleasure, the Epicure, the Parfimonious,

NOTES.

VER. 223. As Fits give vigour, just when they deftroy.] The fimilitude is extremely appofite; as most of the inftances he has afterwards given of the vigorous exertion of the Ruling Paffion in the last moments, are from fuch who had haftened their death by an immoderate indulgence of that paffion.

Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it sticks to our laft fand. 225
Confiftent in our follies and our fins,
Here honest Nature ends as fhe begins.
Old Politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in bus'ness to the last;
As weak, as earnest; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout.
Behold a rev'rend fire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely prefs'd
By his own fon, that paffes by unbless'd: 235

COMMENTARY.

230

the Toaft, the Courtier, the Mifer, and the Patriot; which laft inftance, the Poet has had the art, under the appearance of Satire, to turn into the nobleft Compliment on the perfon to whom the epiftle is addreffed.

66

NOTES.

VER. 225.-It flicks to our laft fand, &c.]" M. de Lagny mourut le 12 Ávril, 1734. Dans les derniers momens, ou "il ne connoiffoit plus aucun de ceux qui etoient autour de "fon lit, quelqu'un, pour faire une experience philofophique, "s'avifa de lui demander quel étoit le quarré de douze: 11 "repondit dans l'inftant, et apparement fans favoir qu'il re"pondit, cent quarante quatre.' Fontanelle, Eloge de M. de Lagny.

VER. 227. Here honeft Nature ends as she begins.] Human nature is here humorously called honeft, as the impulse of the ruling passion (which the gives and cherishes) makes her more and more impatient of disguise.

VER. 231. Lanefb'rew] An ancient Nobleman, who continued this practice long after his legs were disabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince George of Denmark, he de

Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees, And envies ev'ry fparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly,. Helluo, was thy fate;

The doctor call'd, declares all help too late: "Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! 240 "Is there no hope ?---Alas !---then bring the

The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still tries to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. 245 "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a Saint provoke, (Were the last words that poor Narciffa fpoke)

No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace "Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: "One would not, fure, be frightful when one's "dead--250

"And---Betty---give this Cheek a little Red." The Courtier fmooth, who forty years had

fhin'd

An humble fervant to all human kind,

NOTES.

manded an audience of the Queen, to advise her to preferve her health and difpel her grief by Dancing. P.

VER. 242. The frugal Crone, &c.] A fact told him, by Lady Bol. of an old Countefs at Paris.

VER. 247-he last words that poor Narciffa fpoke] This ftory, as well as the others, is founded on fact, though the

Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue

could ftir,

"If---where I'm going---I could ferve you, Sir?"

“I give and I devise" (old Euclio said, 256 And figh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned." Your money, Sir? "My money, Sir, what all? Why,---if I must--(then wept) I give it Paul." The Manor, Sir?--- The Manor! hold," he

cry'd,

"Not that, --I cannot part with that"--and dy'd.

And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath, Shall feel your ruling paffion strong in death: Such in those moments as in all the past!

"Oh, fave my Country, Heav'n!" shall be

your

laft.

NOTES.

author had the goodness not to mention the names. Several attribute this in particular to a very celebrated Actress, who, in deteftation of the thought of being buried in woollen, gave these her last orders with her dying breath. P.

VER. 255.] A Pawnbroker of Paris, in his laft agonies, obferving that the Prieft, as ufual, prefented a little Silver Crucifix before his eyes, mistook it for a pawn; and had just strength enough left to fay, Alas! I can afford but a small matter upon that.

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