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And fuffering more from folly, than from fate.
Ocean! Thou dreadful and tumultuous home
Of dangers, at eternal war with man !sod
Death's capital, where mot he domineers,
With all his chofen terror frowning round,
(Though lately feafted high at Albion's coft)
Wide-opening, and loud-roaring till for more!
Too faithful niirror! how doft thou reflec
The melancholy face of human life mome 175
The ftrong refemblace tempts me farther ftill:
And, haply, Britain may be deeper ftruck
By moral truth, in fuch a mirror feen,
Which nature holds for ever at her eye.
Self-Hatter'd, unexperienc d, high in hope, 180
When young, with fanguine chear, and ftreamers

gay,

We cut our cable, launch into the world, And fondly dream each wind and far friend';

Their treacherous bleffings, at the day of need, Like other faithlefs friends, unmask, and fling: Then, what provoking indigence in wealth! 225 What aggravated impotence in power! High titles, then, what infult of their pain! If that fole anchor, equal to the waves, Immortal hope! defies not the rude ftorm, Ta'es comfort from their foaming billows' rage, And makes a welcome harbour of the tomb. 231 Is This a sketch of what thy foul admires? "But here (thou fay'ft) the miseries of life "Are huddled in a group. A more distinct "Survey, perhaps, night bring thee better news." Look on life's ftages: they fpeak plainer ftill;~ The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou figh, Look on thy lovely boy; in him beheld The beft that can befal the best on earth; our The boy has virtue by his mother's fide: Yes, on Florello look: a father's heart Is tender, thou the man's is made of ftone; 185 The truth, through fuch a medium feen, may make

All, in fome darling enterprize embark'd :
But where is he can fathom its extent?
Amid a multitude of artless hands,
Rain's fure perquifite! her lawful prize!!
Some fteer aright; but the black blaft blows hard,
And puffs them wide of hope: with hearts of
proof,

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They trike and while they triumph, they expire.

In ftrefs of weather, mo?; some fink outright; 195
O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows
clofe; 749

To-morrow knows not they were ever born.
Others a fhort ineinorial leave behind,

Like a flag Hoating, when the bark 's ingulph'd ;
It floats a moment, and is feen no more :- 200
One Cæfar lives; a thousand are forgot.
How few, beneath afpicious plants born,
(Darlings of Providence! fond Fate's elect!)
With fwelling fails make good the promis'd port,
With all their wishes freighted! yet e'en Thefe,
Freighted with all their wishes, foon complain;
Free from misfortune, not from nature free,
They ftill are men; and when is man fecure?
As fatal time, as form the rush of years
Beats down their ftrength; their numberlefs
efcapes

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216

In ruin end: and, now, their proud fuccefs
But plants new terrors in the victor's brow:
What pain to quit the world, juft made their own.
Their neft fo deeply drown'd, and built fo high!
Too low they build, who build beneath the ft rs.
Woe then apart (if woe apart can be
From mortal man), and fortune at our nod,
The gay! rich! great! triumphant! and auguft!
What are they?The most happy (frange to fay!)
Convince me moit of human mifery;
What are they? Smiling wretches of to-morrow!
More wretched then, then e'er their fave can be;

Admiral Balcher, &c.
VOL. VIII,

220

240

245

mpreffion deep, and fondness prove thy friend.
I Florello lately caft on this rude coaft
A helplefs infant; now a heedlefs child;
To poor Clariffa's throes, thy care fucceeds;
Care full of love, and yet severe as hate!
O'er thy foul's joy how oft thy fondnefs frowns!
Needful aufterities his will restrain ;
250
As thorns fence-in the tender plant from harm.
As yet, his refen cannot go alone;
But alks a fterner nurfe to lead it on.
His little heart is often terrify'd;

260

The blush of morning, in his cheek, turns pale;
Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye;
His harmless eye! and drowns an angel there.
Ah! what avails his innocence? The tak
Injoin'd muft difcipline his early powers;
He learns to figh, ere he is known to fin;
Guiltlefs, and fad! a wretch before the fall!
How cruel this! more cruel to forbear.
Our nature such, with necessary pains,
We purchase prospects of precarious peace:
Though not a father, This might steal a figh. 265
Suppofe him difciplin❜d aright (if not,
'Twill fink our poor account to poorer ftill);
Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty,
He leaps inclofure, bounds into the world!
The world is taken, after ten years toil,
Like ancient Troy; and all its joys his own.
Alas! the world's a tutor more severe ;
Its leffons hard, and ill deserve his pains;
Unteaching All his virtuous nature taught,
Or books (fair virtue's advocates !) infpir'd. 275
For who receives him into public life?
Men of the world, the terræ-filial breed,
Welcome the modeft ftranger to their sphere,
(Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his fight)
And, in their hofpitable arms, inclofe:
Men, who think nought fo ftrong of the re-

mance,

270

280

So rank knight-errant, as a real friend :
Men, that act up to reafon's golden rule,
All weaknefs of affection quite subdued :
Men, that would blush at being thought fincere,
Y Y

And feign, for glory, the few faults they want; That love a lye, where truth would pay as well;

As if, to Them, vice, fhone her own reward.

Lorenzo! canft thou bear a fhocking fight? Such, for Florello's fake, 'twill now appear: 290 See, the fteel'd files of feafon'd veterans, Train'd to the word, in burnifh'd falfehood bright;

Deep in the fatal ftratagems of peace;

All foft fenfation, in the throng, rubb'd off;
All their keen purpofe, in politenefs, fheath'd;
His friends eternal during intereft;
His foes implacable--when worth their while;
At war with every welfare, but their own;
As wife as Lucifer; and half as good;
And by whom none, but Lucifer, can gain- 300
Naked, through Thefe (fo common fate ordains),
Naked of heart, his cruel courfe he runs,
Stung out of All, most amiable in life,
Prompt truth, and open thought, and fimiles un-
feign'd;

305

Affection, as his fpecies, wide diffus'd;
Noble prefumptions to mankind's renown;
Ingenuous truft, and confidence of love.
Thefe claims to joy (if mortals joy might
claim)

311

Will coft him many a figh; till time, and pains'
From the flow mistref of this school, Experience,
And her affiftant, paufing, pale, Diaruft,
Purchase a dear-bought clue to lead his youth
Through ferpentine obliquities of life,
And the dark labyrinth of human-hearts.
And happy! if the clue fhall come fo cheap; 315
For, while we learn to fence with public guilt,
Full oft we feel its foul contagion too,
If lefs than heavenly virtue is our guard.
Thus, a ftrange kind of curft necessity
Brings down the fterling temper of his foul, 320
By bafe alloy, to bear the current ftamp,
Belors call'd wifdoni; finks him into falety;
And brands him into credit with the world;
Where fpecious titles dignify difgrace,
And nature's injuries are arts of life; 325
Where brighter reafon prompts to bolder crinies;
And heavenly talents make infernal hearts;
That unfurmountable extreme of guilt!

Poor Machiavel! who labour'd hard his plan, Forgot, that genius need not go to school; Forgot, that man, without a tutor wife,

330

His plan had practis'd, long before 't was writ.

The world's all title-page; there's no contents; The world's all face; the man who fhews his heart,

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Studious their nests to feather in a trice, 345
With all the necromantics of their art,
Playing the game of faces on each other,
Making court fweet-meats of their latent gall,
In foolish hope, to fteal each other's truft;
Both cheating, both exulting, both deceiv'd: 350
And, fometimes, both (let earth rejoice) un-

done!

Their parts we doubt not; but be That their fhame :

Shall men of talents, fit to rule mankind,
Stoop to mean wiles, that would difgrace a fool:
And lofe the thanks of thofe few friends they
ferve?
355

For who can thank the man, he cannot fee?
Why fo much cover? It defeats itself.
Ye, that know all things! know ye not, mens
hearts

Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd? For why conceal'd?-The caufe they need not tell.

give him joy, that 's aukward at a lie; Whofe feeble nature truth keeps still in awe ; His incapacity is his renown.

360

I's great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise; It fhews our fpirit, or it proves our ftrength. 365 Thou fay'ft, 'Tis needful: is it therefore night? Howe'er, I grant it fome fall fign of grace, To ftrain at an excufe: and wouldst thou then Efcape that cruel need? Thou may'ft, with eafe; Think no poft needful that demands a knave. 370 When late our civil helin was fhifting hands, So Pulteney thought: think better if you can. But this, how rare! the public path of life Is dirty-yet, allow that dirt is due, It makes the noble mind more noble ftill: The world 's no neuter; it will wound, or fave; Or virtue quench, or indignation fire. You fay, The world, well-known, will make a man: The world, well-known, will give our hearts to Or make us dæmons, long before we die. [heaven,

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To fhew how fair the world, thymittrefs, fhines, Take either part, fure ills attend the choice; Sure, though not equal, detriment enfues. Not virtue's-felf is deify'd on earth. Virtue has her relapfes, conflicts, foes; Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. Virtue has her peculiar fet of pains. True friends to virtue, lai, and leaft, complain; But if they high, can others hope to fmile? If wifdem has her mixries to mourn, How can poor felly lead a happy life? And if both fuffer, what has earth to boat, Where he most happy, who the leaf laments! Where much, much patience, the most envy'd ftate, And fome forgivenefs, needs the best of friends? For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher, Of neither fhall he find the fhadow here.

390

The world's fworn advocate, without a fee Lorenzo fmartly, with a fmile replies; "Thus far thy fong is right; and All moft own "Virtue has her peculiar fet of pains. "And joys peculiar who to vice denies? "If vice it is, with nature to comply: "If pride, and fene, are fo predominant, "To check, not overcome, them, makes a faint, 405

410

** Can nature in a plainer voice proclaim
Pleafure, and glory, the chief good of man?"
Can pride, and fenfuality, rejoice?
From purity of thought, all pleasure springs;
And, from an humble fpirit, all our feace.
Ambition, pleofure let us talk of These :
Of Thefe, the Porch, and Academy, talk'd;
Of Thefe, cach following age had much to fay:
Yet, unexhaufted, ftill, the needful theme.
Who talks of the e, to mankind all at once
He talks; for were the faint from either free?
Are these thy refuge?-No: these rush upon thee;
Thy vitals feize, and vulture-like, devour:
I'll try, if I can pluck thee from thy rock,
Prometheus! from this barren ball of earth;
If reason can unchain thee, thou art free.

415

And death puts out! Doft thou demand a teft,
A tett, at once, infallible, and short,

Of real Greatnefs? That man Greatly lives, 470
Whate'er his fate, or fame, who Greatly dies;
High-fuh'd with hope, where heroes fhall
defpair.

If this a true criterion, many courts,
Illuftrious, might afford but few grandees.

Th' Almighty, from his throne, on earth
furveys

Nought Greater, than an honeft, Humble Heart;
An Humble Heart, His refidence! pronounc'd
His fecond feat; and rival to the fkies.
The private path, the fecret acts of men,
420 If noble, far the nobleft of our lives!
How far above Lorenzo's glory fits
Th'illustrious mafter of a name unknown;
Whofe worth unriv l'd, and unwitness'd, loves
Life's facred fhades, where gods converfe with

445

And, first, thy Caucafus, ambition, calls;
Mountain of torments! eminence of woes!
Of courted woes! and courted through miftake!
'Tis not ambition charms thee; 'tis a cheat
Will make thee ftart, as H at his Moor.
Doft grafp at greatnefs? First, know what it is:
Think'st thou thy greatnefs in diftinction lies?
Not in the feather, wave it e'er fo high,
By fortune fuck, to mark us from the throng,
Is glory lodg'd: 'tis lodg'd in the reverse;
In what which joins, in that which equals, All,
The monarch and bis flave A deathlefs foul,
Unbounded profpect, and immortal kin,
"A Father God, and brothers in the skies;"
Elder, indeed, in time; but lefs remote
In excellence, perhaps, than thought by man;
Why greater what can fall, than what can rife?

431

435

445

If ftill delirious, now, Lorenzo! go:
And with thy full blown brothers of the world,
Throw fcorn around thee; caft it on thy flaves;
Thy flaves, and equals: how fcorn caft on Them
Rebounds on Thee! if man is mean, as man,
Art thou a god? If fortune makes him fo,
Beware the confequence: a maxim That,
Which draws a monftrous picture of naukind,
Where, in the drapery, the man is loft;
Externals fluttering, and the foul forgot.
Thy greatest glory, when dispos'd to boast,
Boaft that aloud, in which thy fervants frare. 450
We wifely ftrip the fteed we mean to buy:
Judge we, in their caparifons, of men?

It nought avails thee, where, but what, thou art;
All the distinctions of this little life
Are quite cutaneous, foreign to the man,
When, through death's ftreights, earth's fubtle
serpents creep,

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Which wriggle into wealth, or climb renown.
As crooked Satan the forbidden tree,
They leave their party-colour'd robe behind,
All that now glitters, while they rear aloft
Their brazen crefts, and hifs at us below.
Of fortune's fucus ftrip them, yet alive;
Srip them of body, too; nay, closer still,
Away with all, but moral, in their minds;
And let, what then remains, impofe their name,
Pronounce them Weak, or Worthy; Great, or
Mean.

How mean that fnuff of glory fortune lights,

men;

480

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An eminence, though fancy'd, turns the
brain:

All vice wants hellebore; but of all vice,
Pride loudeft calls, and for the largest bowl; 515
Becaufe, unlike all other vice, it flies,

In fact, the point, in fancy most pursued.
Who court applause, oblige the world in this;
They gratify man's paffion to refuse:
Superior honour, when affum'd, is lost;
Ev'n good men turn banditti, and rejoice,
Like Kouli-Kan, in plunder of the proud.
Though fomewhat difconcerted, iteady still
T the world's caufe, with half a face of joy,

520

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535

What mortal fall refift, where angels yield?
Pleafure's the mittrefs of ethereal powers;
For her contend the rival gods above;
Pleafure's the miftrefs of the world below;
And well it was for man, that pleasure charms;
How would All ftagnate, but for pleasure's ray!
How would the frozen ftream of action ccafe!
What is the pulfe of this fo bufy world?
The love of pleasure: that, through every vein,
Throws motion, warmth; and huts out death
from life.

Though various are the tempers of mankind,
Pleasure's gay family hold All in chains:
Some moft affect the black; and fome, the fair;
Some honeft pleasure court; and fome, obfcere.
Pleafures offcene are various, as the throng
Of paffions, that can err in human hearts;
Miftake their objects, or tranfgrefs their bounds.
Think you there's but one whoredom? Whore-
dom, All,

But when our reafon licenfes delight

546

550

Doft doubt, Lorenzo? Thou shalt doubt no more.
Thy father chides thy gallantries; yet hugs
An, ugly commen harlot, in the dark;
A rank adulterer with others' gold!

556

And that bag, vergeance, in a corner, charms,
Hatred her brothel has, as well as love,
Where horrid epicures debauch in blood.
Whate'er the motive, pleasure is the mark:
For Her, the black affaffin draws his fword:
For Her, dark ftatefmen trim their midnight
lamp,
560

To which no fngle facrifice may fall ;
For Her, the faint abftains; the mifer ftarves;
The Stoic proud, for ple fure, pleasure sçorn'd;
For Her, affliction's daughters grief indulge,
And find, or hope, a luxury in tears;
For Her, guilt, fhame, toil, danger, we defy;
And with an aim voluptuous, rush on death.
Thus univerfal her defpotic power!

And as her empire wide, her praife is juft.
Patron of pleafure! doater on delight!
Jam thy rival; pleafure I profefs;
Pleafure the purpofe of my gloomy fong.
Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name;
I wrong her fill, I rate her worth top low;
Virtue the root, and pleafure is the Hower;
And hoeft Epicurus' foes were fools,
But this founds harth, and gives the

of ence;

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570

575

wife

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Own herey feet; but, owning, add this fting; 585 "When mixt with poifon, it is deadly too," Truth never was indebted to a lye. Is nought but virtue to be prais'd, as good? Why then is health preferr'd before disease? What nature loves is good, without our leave. 590 And where no future drawback cries, “ Pesoare;" | Pleasure, though not from virtue, should prevail, 'Tis balm to life, and gratitude to heaven; How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd! The love of pleasure is man's eldeft-born, Born in his cradle, living to his tomb; Wifdem, her younger sister, though more grav, Was meant to mixier, and not to mar, Imperial pleasure, queen of human hearts.

595

Lorenzo! Thou, her majefty's renown'd, 600 Though uncoilt counfel, learned in the work!! Who think' thyfelf a Murray, with difdain May'ft look on me. Yet, my Demofthenes! Cault thou plead pleofure's caufe as well as I? Know't thou her nature, purpose, parentage? 605 Attend my fong, and thou fhalt know them all; And know Thyself; and know thyself to be (Strange truth!) the moft abftemious man alive, Tell not Califta; fhe will laugh thee dead; Cr fed thee to her hermitage with L. 610 Abfurd prefumption! Thou who never knew❜fi A fericus thought! fhalt thou dare dream of joy? No man e'er found a happy life by chance; Or yawn'd it into being, with a with; Or, with the fhout of groveling appetite, E'er fmelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. An art it is, and must be learnt ; and learnt With unremitting effort, or be loft; And leaves us perfect blockheads, in our bliss, The clouds may drop down titles and effates; Wealth may feek Us; but wisdom must be fought; Sought before all; but (how unlike all elfe We feek on earth!) 'tis never fought in vain. Firth, leafare's birth, rife, ftrength, and grandeur, fee.

615

Brought forth by wifdem, nurft by discipline, 625
By patience taught, by perfeverance Crown'd,
She rears her head majettic; round her throne,
Erected in the bofom of the juft,
Each virtue, lifted, forms her manly guard.
For what are virtues? (Formidable name!) 630
What, but the fountain, or defence, of joy?
Why, then, commanded? Need mankind com
mands;

635

At once to merit, and to make, their blifs?-
Great Legiflator! fcarce fo great, as kind!
If men are rational, and love delight,
Thy gracious law but flatter human choice;
In the tranfgreffion lies the penalty';
And they the most indulge, who moft obey.
Of pleasure, next, the final cause explore;
Its mighty purpose, its important end.
640
Not to turn human brutal, but to build
Divire on human, pleasure came from heaven,
In aid to reafon was the goddefs fent;
To call up all its ftrength by fuch a charm.
Pleafure firft, fuccours virtue; in return,
Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign.
What, but the pleasure of food, friendship,

faith,

645

Supports life natural, civil, and divine? Tis from the pleafure of repaft, we live; 'Tis from the pleasure of applaufe, we please ; 650 Tis from the pleature of belief, we pray (All prayer would ceafe, if unbeliev'd the prize :)

It ferves ourselves, our fpecies, and our God; And to ferve more, is paft the fphere of man. Glide, then, for ever, pleafure's facred ftream! Through Eden, as Euphrates ran, it runs, And fofters every growth of happy life; Makes a new Eden where it flows As must be loft, Lorenzo! by thy fall. "What mean I by thy fall?"-Thou❜lt shortly fee, 660

but fuch

While pleasure's nature is at large display'd ; Already fung her origin, and ends.

665

Thofe glorious ends, by kind, or by degree,
When fle fure violates, 'tis then a vice,
And vengeance too; it haftens into pain.
From due refreshment, life, health, reason,
joy;

From wild excefs, pain, grief, distraction, death; Heaven's juftice this proclaims, and that her love.

What greater evil can I wish my foe,

Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask 670
Unbroach'd by juft authority, ungaug'd
By temperance, by reafon unrefin'd?
A thousand dæmons lurk within the lee.
Heaven, others, and ourfelves! uninjur'd these.
Drink deep; the deeper, then, the more divine:
Angels are angels, from indulgence there; 676
Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god.

Doft think thy felf a god from other joys?
A victim rather! fhortly fure to bleed.

The wrong must mourn; can heaven's appointments fail?

Can man outwit Omnipotence? Strike out
A felf-wrought happiness unmeant by Him
Who made us, and the world we would enjoy?
Who forms an inftrument, ordains from whence
Its diffonance, or harmony, fall rife.

685

Heaven bade the foul this mortal frame infpire:
Bade virtue's ray divine infpire the foul
With unprecarious flows of vital joy;
And, without_breathing, man as well might
hope

For life, as without piety, for peace.

690

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next,

715

C'er death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides;

Praife, the fweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it fweeter till; 729
Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a ftream
Of glory on the confecrated hour

Of man, in audience with the Deity.
Who worships the Great God, that inftant joins
The firft in heaven, and fets his foot on hell. 723
Lorenzo! when waft Thou at church before!
Thou think'ft the fervice long; but is it juft?
Though juft, unwelcome; thou hadit rather

tread

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"Chain down fome paffiondo fome generous good;

«Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile; "Correct thy friend; befriend thy greatest for; "Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, "Spring up, and lay ftrong hold on Him who made thee."

Thy gloom is fcatter'd, fprightly fpirits flow; Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unftrung.

1750

Doft call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, 745 Loud mirth, mad laughter? Wretched comforters! Phyficians! more than half of thy disease. Laughter, though never cenfur'd yet as fin, (Pardon a thought that only feems fevere) Is half-immortal: is it much indulg'd? By venting fpleen, er diffipating thought, It frews a fcorner, or it makes a fool; And fins, as hurting others, or ourselves. 'Tis pride, or emptiness, applies the straw, That tickles little minds to mirth effufe; Of grief approaching, the portentous i gn! The houfe of laughter makes a house of woe. A man triumphant is a monftrous fight; A man dejected is a fight as mean. What caute for triumph, where fuch ills abound? What for dejection, where prefides a Power, Who call'd us into being to be bleft?

755

So grieve, as confcious, grief may rife to joy; So joy, as conscious, joy to grief may fall."

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