From Macedonia's madman to the Swede;

The whole strange purpose of their lives to find, Or make, an enemy of all mankind!

Who wickedly is wise or madly brave,
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates; that man is great indeed.

A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod,
An honest man's the noblest work of God.

All fame is foreign, but of true desert,

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart :
-One self-approving hour whole years outweights
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'Tis but to know how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own;
Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge :
Without a second or without a judge

Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.

Painful pre-eminence! yourself toview

Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.

Bring then these blessings to a strict account,
Make fair deductions, see to what they 'mount.
How much of other each is sure to cost;

How each for other oft is wholly lost;
How inconsistent greater goods with these;
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease:
Think, and if still the things thy envy call,

Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall?

*

If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind :

If all united, thy ambition call,

From ancient story learn to scorn them all.
There, in the rich, the honour'd, fam'd, and great,
See the false scale of happiness complete!

Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame
F'er taught to shine, or sanctify'd from shame!
What greater bliss attends their close of life?
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife,
The trophy'd arches, story'd halls invade,
And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade.

Know then this truth, (enough for man to know) 'Virtue alone is happiness below.'

The only point where human bliss stands still,
And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
Where only merit constant pay receives,
Is blest in what it takes, and what it gives;

106 EXTRACTS FROM POPE'S ESSAY ON MAN.

The joy unequal'd, if its end it gain;
And if it lose, attended with no pain ;
Without satiety, though e'er so blest,

And but more relish d as the more distress'd:
The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears,

Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears.
Good from each object, from each place acquir'd,
For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd ;

Never elated, while one man's oppress'd;
Never dejected, while another's bless'd;
And where no wants, no wishes can remain,
Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain.

*

Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine,

Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. Is this too little for the boundless heart?

Extend it, let thy enemies have part:

Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense,
In one close system of benevolence:
Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,

And height of bliss but height of charity.
God loves from whole to parts; but human soul
Must rise from individual to the whole.

Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,
As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;
The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds,
Another still, and still another spreads;
Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace,
His country next, and next all human race ;
Wide and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind

Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind;

Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest,

And heav'n beholds its image in his breast.

That virtue only makes our bliss below;

And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.

EXTRACTS FROM POPE'S PRAYER,

Thou great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confin d,

To know out this, that thou art, good,
And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell, to shun,
That more than Heav'n pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives,
T' enjoy is to obey.

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, And let thy will be done.