what are only the calamities of Nature, or of For
IV. The folly of expecting that God should alter his general Laws in favour of particulars, ver. 121.
V. That we are not judges who are good; but that, whoever they are, they must be happieft, ver. 133. &c.
VI. That external goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconfiftent with, or deftructive of Virtue, ver. 165. That even these can make no Man happy without Virtue: Inftanced in Riches, ver. 183. Honours, ver. 191. Nobility, ver. 203. Greatness, ver. 215. Fame, 235. Superior Talents, ver. 257. &c. With pictures of human Infelicity in Men poffeffed of them all, ver. 267. &c.
VII. That Virtue only conftitutes a Happiness, whofe object is univerfal, and whose prospect eternal, ver. 307. &c. That the perfection of Virtue and Happiness confifts in a conformity to the ORDER of PROVIDENCE here, and a Refignation to it here and hereafter, ver. 326. &c.
OH HAPPINESS! our being's end and aim!
Good, Pleasure, Eafe, Content! whate'er thy name:
That fomething ftill which prompts th' eternal figh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die,
Which ftill fo near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'er-look'd, feen double, by the fool, and wife.
Plant of celeftial feed! if dropt below,
Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair op'ning to fome Court's propitious shine,
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine,
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnaffian lawrels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?
Where grows? -- where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the foil:
Fix'd to no fpot is happiness fincere,
'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where:
'Tis never to be bought, but always free,
And fled from monarchs, Sr. JOHN! dwells with thee.
Ask of the Learn'd the way? The Learn'd are blind; This bids to ferve, and that to shun mankind,
Some place the blifs in action, fome in eafe,
Those call it Pleafure, and Contentment these;
Some funk to Beasts, find pleasure end in pain;
Some fwell'd to Gods, confefs 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, fay they more or less
Than this, that Happiness is Happiness?
Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave,
All ftates can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we pleafe,
Equal is Common Senfe, and Common Eafe.
Remember, Man," the Universal Caufe
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 bleffing Individuals find,
But fome way leans and hearkens to the kind:
No Bandit fierce, no Tyrant mad with pride,
No cavern'd Hermit, refts felf fatisfy'd:
Who moft to shun or hate Mankind pretend,
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend:
Abstract what others feel, what others think,
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 confeft,
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest,
More rich, more wife; but who infers from hence
That fuch are happier, shocks all common fense.
Heav'n to Mankind impartial we confess,
If all are equal in their Happiness:
But mutual wants this Happiness increase;
All Nature's diff'rence keeps all Nature's peace.
Condition, circumftance is not the thing;
Blifs 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 bleffing, as one common foul,
But Fortune's gifts if each alike poffeft,
And each were equal, muft not all contest?
If then to all Men Happiness was meant,
God in Externals could not place Content.
Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
And these be happy call'd, unhappy thofe;
But Heav'n's juft balance equal will appear,
While thofe are plac'd in Hope, and thefe in Fear;
Not prefent good or ill, the joy or curse,
But future views of better, or of worse.
Oh fons of earth! attempt ye ftill to rife,
By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies?
Heav'n ftill with laughter the vain toil furveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raife,
Know, all the good that individuals find,
Or God and Nature meant to mere Mankind,
Reafon's whole pleasure, all the joys of Senfe,
Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence, 80
But Health confifts with Temperance alone;
And Peace, oh Virtue! Peace is all thy own.
The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain:
But these less tafte them, as they worfe obtain.
Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,
Who risk the moft, that take wrong means
Of Vice or Virtue, whether bleft or curst,
Which meets contempt, or which compaffion first?
Count all th' advantage profp'rous Vice attains,
'Tis but what Virtue flies from, and difdains:
And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd,
One they must want, which is, to pafs for good.
Oh blind to truth, and God's whole fcheme below,
Who fancy Blifs to Vice, to Virtue Woe!
Who fees and follows that great scheme the best,
Best knows the bleffing, and will moft be bleft.
But fools, the Good alone, unhappy call,
For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See FALKLAND dies, the virtuous and the just!
See god-like TURENNE proftrate on the duft!
See SIDNEY bleeds amid the martial ftrife!
Was this their Virtue, or Contempt of Life?
more tho' Heav'n ne'er gave,
funk thee to the grave?
Lamented DIG BY!
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 fo long (in life if long can be )
Lent Heav'n a parent to the poor and me?
What makes all phyfical or moral ill?
There deviates Nature, and here wanders Will.
God fends not ill; if rightly understood,
Or partial Ill is univerfal Good,
Or Change admits, or Nature lets it fall;
Short, and but rare, 'till Man improv'd it all.
We just as wifely might of Heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was deftroy'd by Cain,
As that the virtuous fon is ill at ease
When his lewd father gave the dire disease.
Think we, like fome weak Prince, th' Eternal Caufe,
Prone for his fav'rites to reverfe his laws?
Shall burning Etna, if a fage requires,
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
On air or fea new motions be impreft,
Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breaft;
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation ceafe, if you go by?
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