You visit oft his awful page with care, In every breast there burns an active flame, 50 40 90 Hence Satire's power: 'Tis her corrective part, To calm the wild disorders of the heart. She points the arduous height were Glory lies, And teaches mad Ambition to be wise: In the dark bosom wakes the fair desire, Draws good from ill, a brighter flame from fire: Strips black Oppression of her gay disguise, And bids the hag in native horrour rise; Strikes towering Pride and lawless Rapine dead, And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head. Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin'd power, Though oft she mourns those ills she cannot cure. 100 The worthy court her, and the worthless fear; Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere. Her awful voice the vain and vile obey, And every foe to Wisdom feels her sway. Smarts, pedants, as she smiles, no more are vain; Desponding fops resign the clouded cane': Hush'd at her voice, pert Folly's self is still, And Dulness wonders while she drops her quill, Like the arm'd bee, with art most subtly true, From poisonous Vice she draws a healing dew: 110 Weak are the ties that civil arts can find, To quell the ferment of the tainted mind: Cunning evades, securely wrapp'd in wiles! And Force, strong-sinew'd, rends th' unequal toils: The stream of vice impetuous drives along,. Too deep for Policy, for Power too strong. Ev'n fair Religion, native of the skies, Scorn'd by the crowd, seeks refuge with the wise; The crowd with laughter spurns her awful train, 50 And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain. 120 But Satire's shaft can pierce the harden'd breast: She plays a ruling passion on the rest : Undaunted storms the battery of his pride, And awes the brave, that earth and Heaven defy'd. When fell Corruption by her vassals crown'd, Derides fall'n Justice prostrate on the ground; Swift to redress an injur'd people's groan, Bold Satire shakes the tyrant on her throne; Powerful as Death, defies the sordid train, And slaves and sycophants surround in vain. Thus Heaven in pity wakes the friendly flame, To urge mankind on deeds that merit fame: But man, vain man, in folly only wise, Rejects the manna sent him from the skies: With rapture hears corrupted Passion's call, Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall, As each deceitful shadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd substance quits the true; Fager to catch the visionary prize, In quest of glory plunges deep in vice; Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits every praise he pants to gain. Thus still imperious Nature plies her part; And still her dictates work in every heart. Each power that sovereign Nature bids enjoy, Man may corrupt, but man can ne'er destroy, Like mighty rivers, with resistless force The passions rage, obstructed in their course; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown those virtues which they fed before. 60 And sure, the deadliest foe to Virtue's flame, Our worst of evils, is perverted Shame. Beneath this load, what abject numbers groan, Th' entangled slaves to folly not their own! Meanly by fashionable fear oppress'd, We seek our virtues in each other's breast; Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign vice, Another's weakness, interest, or caprice. Each fool to low ambition, poorly great, That pines in splendid wretchedness of state, Tir'd in the treacherous chase, would nobly yield, And, but for shame, like Sylla, quit the field: The demon Shame paints strong the ridicule, And whispers close, "The world will call you fool," Behold yon wretch by impious Fashion driven, Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heaven. By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a coward, and a brave to God. 70 80 Faith, Justice, Heaven itself now quit their hold, When to false Fame the captive heart is sold: Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd ; Nought could subdue his virtue, but his pride, Hence chaste Lucretia's innocence betray'd Fell by that honour which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue sinks beneath unnumber'd woes, When passions, born her friends, revolt her foes, 130 But with the friends of vice, the foes of satire, All truth is spleen; all just reproof, ill-nature, Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill; Well may they tremble when she draws her quill: Her magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's spear, Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear: Bids Vice and Folly take their natural shapes, Turns dutchesses to strumpets, beaux to apes; Drags the vile whisperer from his dark abode, Till all the demon starts up from the toad. 140 O sordid maxim, form'd to screen the vile, That true Good-nature still must wear a smile! In frowns array'd her beauties stronger rise, | When love of virtue wakes her scorn of vice: Where Justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save; And 'tis the Law's good-nature hangs the knave, Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend; Then judge of Satire's merit by her end : To guilt alone her vengeance stands confin'd, The object of her love is all mankind. Scarce more the friend of man, the wise must own, Ev'n Allen's bounteous hand, than Satire's frown: This to chastise, as that to bless was giv'n: Alike the faithful ministers of Heaven, 150 Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent Though strong th' example, weak the punishment They least are pain'd, who merit satire most: Folly the Laurcat's, vice was Chartres' boast: Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name PART II. DARE nobly then: but, conscious of your trust, But chief, be steady in a noble end, 180 O lost to Honour's voice, O doom'd to shame, 190 With caution next, the dangerous power apply; An eagle's talon askɛ an eagle's eye : Let Satire then her proper object know, And ere she strike, be sure she strike a foe, Nor fondly deem the real fool confest, Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest : Before whose altar Virtue oft hath bled, And oft a destin'd victim shall be led : Lo Shaftesbury rears her high on Reason's throne, And loads the slave with honours not her own: 200 Big-swoln with folly, as her smiles provoke, Prophaneness spawns, pert dunces nurse the joke! Come, let us join awhile this tittering crew, And own the ideot guide for once is true; Deride our weak forefathers' musty rule, Who therefore smil'd because they saw a Sublimer logic now adorns our isle, We therefore see a fool, because we smile. Truth in her gloomy cave why fondly seek? Lo gay she sits in Laughter's dimpled cheek: 210 Contemps each surly academic foe, fool ; And courts the spruce freethinker and the beau. 920 But you, more sage, reject th' inverted rule, That truth is e'er explor'd by Ridicule : On truth, on falsehood, let her colours fall, She throws a dazzling glare alike on all; As the gay prism but mocks the flatter'd eye, 230 And gives to every object every dye. Beware the mad adventurer: bold and blind She hoists her sail, and drives with every wind; Deaf as the storm to sinking Virtue's groan, Nor heeds a friend's destruction, or her own. Let clear-ey'd Reason at the helm preside, Bear to the wind, or stem the furious tide; Then Mirth may urge, when Reason can explore, This point the way, that waft us glad to shore. Though distant times may rise in Satire's page, Yet chief 'tis her's to draw the present age: 240 With Wisdom's lustre, Folly's shade contrast, And judge the reigning manners by the past: Bid Britain's heroes (awful shades!) arise, And ancient Honour beam on modern Vice: Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair, Till the sons blush at what their fathers were: Ere yet t'was beggary the great to trust; Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be just; When low-born sharpers only dar’d a lye, Or falsify'd the card, or cogg'd the dye; Fre Lewdness the stain'd garb of Honour wore, Or Chastity was carted for the whore; Vice flutter'd in the plumes of Freedom dress'd; Or public Spirit was the public jest. 250 Be ever, in a just expression, bold, Yet ne'er degrade fair Satire to a scold: Let no unworthy mien her form debase, But let her smile, and let her frown with grace: In mirth be temperate, temperate in her spleen; Nor, while she preaches modesty, obscene. 260 Deep let her wound, not rankle to a sore, Nor call his lordship, her grace a -: The Muse's charms resitless then assail, When wrapp'd in Irony's transparent veil : Her beauties half-conceal'd, the more surprise, And keener lustre sparkles in her eyes. Then be your line with sharp encomiums grac'd: Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chaste. 270 [move, Dart not on Folly an indignant eye: Who e'er discharg'd artillery on a fly? Deride not Vice: absurd the thought and vain, To bind the tiger in so weak a chain. Nay more; when flagrant crimes your laughter The knave exults: to smile, is to approve. The Muse's labour then success shall crown, When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown. Know next what measures to each theme belong, And suit your thoughts and numbers to your song: On wing proportion'd to your quarry rise, And stoop to earth, or soar among the skies. 280 Thus when a modish folly you rehearse, Free the expression, simple be the verse. In artless numbers paint th' ambitious peer, That mounts the box, and shines a charioteer: In strains familiar sing the midnight toil Of camps and senates disciplin'd by Hoyle; Patriots and chiefs, whose deep design invades, And carries off the captive king-of spades! Let Satire here in milder vigour shine, And gayly graceful sport along the line; Bid courtly Passion quit her thin pretence, And sinile each affectation into sense. 290 Not so when Virtue, by her guards betray'd, Spurn'd from her throne, implores the Muse's aids 300 When crimes, which erst in kindred darkness lay, On mountain'd falsehoods to invade the skies: Yet the bright flame from virtue ne'er had sprung' 370 Then sportive Horace caught the generous fire ; 380 310 And, as it grew more polish'd, grew more keen. 320 Yet Satire oft assumes a gentler mien, 330 [ground, And who unmov'd with laughter can behold PART III. THROUGH ages thus has Satire keenly shin'd: $90 Swoln Luxury!-pale Ruin stalks behind! At length, again fair Science shot her ray, 410 "Twas then plain Donne in honest vengeance rose, His wit harmonious, though his rhyme was prose: He 'midst an age of puns and pedants wrote 421 350 With genuine sense, and Roman strength of thought. Ill-fated Dryden! who, unmov'd, can see Th' extremes of wit and meanness join'd in thee? Flames that could mount, and gain their kindred Low creeping in the putrid sink of Vice: [skies A Muse whom Wisdom woo'd, but woo'd in vain, The pimp of Power, the prostitute to Gain: Wreaths, that should deck fair Virtue's form alone, To strumpets, traitors, tyrants, vilely thrown: 440 Unrival'd parts, the scorn of honest fame; And genius rise, a monument of shame! More happy France: immortal Boileau there Supported Genius with a sage's care: Him with her love propitious Satire blest, And breath'd her airs divine into his breast: Fancy and Sense to form his line conspire, And faultless Judgment guides the purest fire. But see, at length, the British genius smile, And shower her bounties o'er her favour'd isle : 450 Behold for Pope she twines the laurel crown, And centers every poet's power in one: Each Roman's force adorns his various page; Gay smiles, collected strength, and manly rage. Despairing Guilt and Dulness loath the sight, As spectres vanish at approaching light: In this clear mirror with delight we view Each image justly fine, and boldly true: 460 Here Vice, dragg'd forth by Truth's supreme decree, But oh, what thoughts, what numbers shall I find, But faintly to express the poet's mind! Who yonder stars' effulgence can display, 490 This praise, immortal Pope, to thee be given. Did friendship e'er mislead thy wandering Muse? 510 Ye deathless names, ye sons of endless praise, By virtue crown'd with never-fading bays! Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire? Or if, O Warburton, inspir'd by you, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, By you inspir'd, on trembling pinions soar, The sacred founts of social bliss explore, In her bold numbers chain the tyrant's rage, And bid her country's glory fire her page; If such her fate, do thou, fair Truth, descend, And watchful guard her in an honest end: Kindly severe, instruct her equal line To court no friend, nor own a foe but thine. But if her giddy eye should vainly quit Thy sacred paths, to run the maze of Wit; If her apostate heart should e'er incline To offer incense at Corruption's shrine; Urge, urge thy power, the black attempt confound, And dash the smoaking censer to the ground. Thus aw'd to fear, instructed bards may see That guilt is doom'd to sink in infamy. AN ESSAY ON MAN: TO H. ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE THE DESIGN. 520 530 HAVING proposed to write some pieces on human life and manners, such as (to use my lord Bacon's expression) come home to me business and bosoms," I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering man in the abstract, his nature, and his state; since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being. The science of human nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these last; and I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice, more than advanced the theory of morality. If I could flatter myself that this Essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a temperate yet not inconsistent, and a short, yet not imperfect, system of ethics. This I might have done in prose; but I chose verse, and even rhyme, for two reasons. The one will appear obvious; that principles, maxims, or precepts so written, both strike the reader more strongly at first, and are more easily retained by him afterwards: the other may seem odd, but it is true; I found I could express them more shortly this way than in prose itself; and nothing is more certain, than that much of the force as well as grace of arguments or instructions depends on their conciseness. I was unable to treat this part of my subject more in detail, without becoming dry and tedious; or more poetically, without sacrificing perspicuity to ornament, without wandering from the precision, or breaking the chain of reasoning: if any man can unite all these without diminution of any of them, I freely confess he will compass a thing above my capacity. What is now published is only to be considered as a general map of man, marking out no more than the greater parts, their extent, their limits, and their connection, but leaving the particular to be more fully delineated in the charts which are to follow. Consequently, these Epistles in their progress (if I have health and leisure to make any progress) will be less dry, and more susceptible of poetical ornament. I am here only opening the fountains, and clearing the passage. To deduce the rivers, to follow them in their course, and to observe their effects, may be a task more able. AN ESSAY ON MAN, throughout the whole visible world, an universal order and gradation in the sensual and mental faculties is observed, which causes a subordination of creature to creature, and of all creatures to man. The gradations of sense, instinct, thought, reflection, reason; that reason alone countervails all the other faculties, ver. 207. VIII. How much farther this order and subordination of living creatures may extend above and below us; were any part of which broken, not that part only, but the whole connected creation must be destroyed, ver. 233. IX. The extravagance, madness, and pride of such a desire, ver. 250. X. The consequence of all the absolute submission due to Providence, both as to our present and future state, ver. 281, to the end. EPISTLE I. AWAKE, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition and the pride of Kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us, and to die) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; A mighty maze! but not without a plan: A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot; Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. agree-Try what the open, what the covert yield; Together let us beat this ample field, The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; Eye Nature's walks, shoot Folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise: Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; But vindicate the ways of God to man. IN FOUR EPISTLES, TO H. ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE. ARGUMENT OF EPISTLE L OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH RESPECT TO THE UNIVERSE. OF F man in the abstract.-I. That we can judge only with regard to our own system, being ignorant of the relations of systems and things, ver. 17, &c. II. That man is not to be deemed imperfect, but a being suited to his place and rank in the creation, agreeable to the general order of things, and conformable to ends and relations to him unknown, ver. 35, &c. III. That it is partly upon his ignorance of future events, and partly upon the hope of a future state, that all his happiness in the present depends, ver. 77, &c. IV. The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to more perfection, the cause of man's errour and misery. The impiety of putting himself in the place of God, and judging of the fitness or unfitness, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice, of his dispensations, ver. 109, &c. V. The absurdity of conceiting himself the final cause of the creation, or expecting that perfection in the moral world, which is not in the natural, ver. 131, &c. VI. The unreasonableness of his complaints against Providence, while on the one hand he demands the perfection of the angels, and on the other the bodily qualifications of the brutes; though, to possess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher degree, would tender him miserable, ver. 173, &c. VII. That 20 [known, I. Say first, of God above, or man below, Why form'd so weak, so little, and so blind? 30 40 Of systems possible, if 'tis confest, That Wisdom infinite must form the best, Where all must full or not coherent be, And all that rises, rise in due degree; Then, in the scale of reasoning life, 'tis plain, There must be, somewhere, such a rank as man: |