Judging, in charity, no doubt, the town 250 255 They die-Death lends them, pleas'd, and as in But they that wore them move not at the sound; The coronet plac'd highly at their head, Adds nothing now to the degraded dead; And e'en the star, that glitters on the bier, 270 Can only say-Nobility lies here. Peace to all such-'twere pity to offend, By useless censure, whom we cannot mend; 'Twas there we found them, and must leave them there. As when two pilgrims in a forest stray, Both may be lost, yet each in his own way; So fares it with the multitudes beguil'd In vain Opinion's waste and dang 'rous wild; 275 Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns among, 280 Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong. But here, alas! the fatal diff'rence lies, Each man's belief is right in his own eyes; And he that blames what they have blindly chose, 285 Say, botanist, within whose province fall The cedar and the hyssop on the wall, Of all that deck the lanes, the fields, the bow'rs, What parts the kindred tribes of weeds and flow'rs? Sweet scent, or lovely form, or both combin'd, Distinguish ev'ry cultivated kind; The want of both denotes a meaner breed, And Chloe from her garland picks the weed. Thus hopes of ev'ry sort, whatever sect 290 Esteem them, sow them, rear them, and protect. 295 Gethsemane! in thy dear hallow'd ground, Nor animate the soul to Christian deeds, 300 (Oh cast them from thee!) are weeds, arrant weeds. Ethelred's house, the centre of six ways, Diverging each from each, like equal rays, Lord paramount of the surrounding plains, 305 Would give relief of bed and board to none, But guests that sought it in th' appointed One; And they might enter at his open door, E'en till his spacious hall would hold no more. He sent a servant forth, by ev'ry road, 310 To sound his horn, and publish it abroad. That all might mark-knight, menial, high, and low, An ord'nance it concern'd them much to know. 315 320 Because the deed, by which his love confirms 325 Love is not pedler's trump'ry, bought and sold⚫ 330 He will give freely, or he will withhold; His soul abhors a mercenary thought, 335 To place you where his saints his presence share. 340 345 From stucco'd walls smart arguments rebound; And beaux, adepts in ev'ry thing profound, Die of disdain, or whistle off the sound. Such is the clamour of rooks, daws, and kites, Th' explosion of the levell'd tube excites, 350 Loudly resent the stranger's freedom there, 355 Adieu, Vinosa cries, ere yet he sips The purple bumper trembling at his lips-- Make works a vain ingredient in the case. 360 The Christian hope is-Waiter, draw the cork- My firm persuasion is, at least sometimes, 365 370 That Heav'n will weigh man's virtues and his crimes I glide and steal along with Heav'n in view, 375 380 If appetite, or what divines call lust, 385 Which men comply with, e'en because they must, Be punish'd with perdition, who is pure? Then theirs, no doubt, as well as mine, is sure. If sentence of eternal pain belong To ev'ry sudden slip and transient wrong, 390 Then Heav'n enjoins the fallible and frail A hopeless task, and damns them if they fail. My creed, (whatever some creed-makers mean 395 The best of ev'ry man's performance here 400 405 With nothing here that wants to be conceal'd. Marly deportment, gallant, easy, gay; A hand as lib'ral as the light of day. The soldier thus endow'd who never shrinks, Nor closets up his thoughts, whate'er he thinks, 410 Must go to Heav'n-and I must drink his health. Sir Smug, he cries, (for lowest at the board, Just made fifth chaplain of his patron lord, His shoulders witnessing by many a shrug 415 How much his feelings suffer'd, sat Sir Smug,) Which they that woo preferment rarely pass, 420 Fallible man, the church-bred youth replies, Is still found fallible, however wise; And diff'ring judgments serve but to declare, That truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where. 425 Of criticks now alive, or long since dead, The book of all the world that charm'd me most Was-well-a-day-the title page was lost; To take with gratitude what Heav'n bestows, 430 With prudence always ready at our call, To guide our use of it, is all in all. Doubtless it is-To which, of my own store, I superadd a few essentials more ; But these, excuse the liberty I take, I wave just now, for conversation's sake. 435 |