But greedy that, its object would devour, 91 95 III. Modes of self-love the passions we may call ; 'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all: But since not every good we can divide, And reason bids us for our own provide, Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, List under reason, and deserve her care; Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim, Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name. In lazy apathy let stoics boast Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost; Contracted all, retiring to the breast; But strength of mind is exercise, not rest: The rising tempest puts in act the soul; Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale; Nor God alone in the still calm we find, 101 105 109 He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind. 102 Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost. Warton contends that the stoics affected only a freedom from strong perturbation; but he omits their leading doctrine, the denial of the existence of pain. He quotes Epictetus, but forgets the stoic story of the philosopher's suffering his leg to be broken without remonstrance; the doctrine of the lawfulness of suicide; and the example of Zeno, trained in the school of the cynics, and strangling himself at ninety-eight. Swift sarcastically remarks, that the stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping off our passions, was like cutting off our legs for want of shoes.' But the 'lazy apathy' of the text is not the true designation: the supreme attainment of the stoic was systematic and resolute insensibility. Passions, like elements, though born to fight, Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: These, 'tis enough to temper and employ ; But what composes man, can man destroy? Suffice that reason keep to nature's road, Subject, compound them, follow her and God. Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain, 115' 125 These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confined, 130 As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath, Receives the lurking principle of death; The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength; So, cast and mingled with his very frame, The mind's disease, its ruling passion, came; 136 138 The mind's disease, its ruling passion, came. A theory which has been strongly denied, but which is as strongly substantiated 140 145 Each vital humor which should feed the whole, Yes, nature's road must ever be preferr'd; And treat this passion more as friend than foe: 150 155 160 by experience. If individuals frequently exhibit the most marked tastes, talents, and passions from their birth, why not exhibit the most marked direction of them all combined? This is the master passion, the great impulse in which all the powers share but it should be termed rather the stimulant, than the obstacle, to human progress; rather the prime mover, than the disease, of the mind. A mightier Power the strong direction sends, 165 ; 175 180 185 The Eternal Art, educing good from ill, Grafts on this passion our best principle; "Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd; Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd The dross cements what else were too refined, And in one interest body acts with mind. As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care, On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear; The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, Wild nature's vigor working at the root. What crops of wit and honesty appear From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear! See anger, zeal and fortitude supply; Ev'n avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy; Lust, through some certain strainers well refined, Is gentle love, and charms all womankind; Envy, to which the ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learn'd or brave; Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame. Thus nature gives us (let it check our pride) The virtue nearest to our vice allied: 190 190 200 Reason the bias turns to good from ill, Fools! who from hence into the notion fall, 205 210 A thousand ways, is there no black or white? As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; 220 But where the extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed: Ask where's the north? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. But thinks his neighbor farther gone than he; 225 |