That happy Frailties to all Ranks apply'd,
Shame to the Virgin, to the Matron Pride,
Fear to the Statesman, Rafhness to the Chief,
To Kings Prefumption, and to Crowds Belief.
That Virtue's Ends from Vanity can raise,
Which feeks no Int'reft, no Reward but Praife.⠀
And builds on Wants, and on Defects of Mind,
The Joy, the Peace, the Glory, of Mankind.
Heav'n forming each on other to depend,
A Master, or a Servant, or a Friend,
Bids each on other for Affiftance call,
'Till one man's Weakness grows the Strength of all..
Wants, Frailties, Paffions, clofer ftill allye
The common Int'reft, or endear the Tye:
To these we owe true Friendship, Love fincere,
Each home-felt Joy that Life inherits here!
Yet from the fame we learn, in its decline,
Thofe Joys, thofe Loves, those Int'rests to resign?
Taught half by Reason, half by mere Decay,
To welcome Death, and calmly pass away.
Whate'er the Paffion, Knowledge, Fame, or Pelf,
Not one will change his Neighbour with himself.
The Learn'd are happy, Nature to explore; li
The Fool is happy, that he knows no more; ol
The Rich are happy in the Plenty given ja loop
The Poor contents him with the Care of Heaven.
See the blind Beggar dance, the Cripple fing,
The Sot a Hero, Lunatic a King,
The starving Chymift in his golden Views
Supreamly bleft, the Poet in his Mufe.
See! fome ftrange Comfort ev'ry State attend, And Pride beftow'd on all, a common Friend; See! fome fit Paffion ev'ry Age fupply, Hope travels thro', nor quits us when we die.
'Till then, Opinion gilds with varying rays
Those painted Clouds that beautify our Days;
Each want of Happiness by Hope supply'd,
And each Vacuity of Senfe by Pride.
These build up all that Knowledge can destroy;
In Folly's Cup still laughs the Bubble, Joy;
E
One Prospect loft, another still we gain,'otn:!W/ And not a Vanity is giv'n in vain ; lliw sno to Even mean Self-Love becomes, by Force divine, T The Scale to measure others Wants by thine. T See! and confefs, one Comfort still must rife, sIT 'Tis this, tho' Man's a Fool, yet GOD IS WISET All claio al somab vagyol build oates? quid's chong loтH £ 302 cdT
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