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Torn is the man, and mortal is the wound. Survive myself?—That cures all other woe.
Some, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad, Narcissa lives; Philander is forgot.
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread. O the soft commerce! O the tender ties,
Together some (unhappy rivals !) seize,

Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart!
And rend abundance into poverty ;

Which, broken, break them; and drain off the soul
Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles : Of human joy; and make it pain to live-
Smiles too the goddess; but smiles most at those, And is it then to live? When such friends part,
(Just victims of exorbitant desire!)

'Tis the survivor dies—My heart, no more.
Who perish at their own request, and, whelm'd
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire.
Fortune is famous for her numbers slain;
The number small, which happiness can bear.

NIGHT THE SIXTH.
Though various for a while their fates ; at last
One curse involves them all : at Death's approach,

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED.
All read their riches backward into loss,

IN TWO PARTS. And mourn, in just proportion to their store.

And Death's approach (if orthodox my song) Is hasten'd by the lure of Fortune's smiles.

Containing the Nature, Proof, and Importance, of And art thou still a glutton of bright gold ?

Immortality.
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin?
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow;

PART 1.
A blow which, while it executes, alarms;
And startles thousands with a single fall.

Where, among other Things, Glory and Riches are As when some stately growth of oak, or pine,

particularly considered. Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade,

TO THE RIGHT HON. HENRY PELHAM, FIRST LORD The Sun's defiance, and the flock's defence;

COMMISSIONER OF THE TREASURY, AND CHANCELBy the strong strokes of laboring hinds subdued,

LOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.
Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height
In cumbrous ruin, thunders to the ground:
The conscious forest trembles at the shock,

Preface.
And hill, and stream, and distant dale, resound. Few ages have been deeper in dispute about reli-

These high-aim'd darts of Death, and these alone, gion than this. The dispute about religion, and Should I collect, my quiver would be full.

the practice of it, seldom go together. The shorter, A quiver, which, suspended in mid air,

therefore, the dispute, the better. I think it may Or near Heaven's Archer, in the zodiac, hung, be reduced to this single question, Is man immor(So could it be,) should draw the public eye,

tal, or is he not? If he is not, all our disputes are The gaze and contemplation of mankind !

mere amusements, or trials of skill. In this case, A constellation awful, yet benign,

truth, reason, religion, which give our discourses To guide the gay through life's lempestuous wave; such pomp and solemnity, are (as will be shown) Nor suffer them to strike the common rock,

mere empty sound, without any meaning in them. "From greater danger, to grow more secure,

But if man is immortal, it will behove him to be And, wrapt in happiness, forget their fate."

very serious about eternal consequences ; or, in Lysander, happy past the common lot,

other words, to be truly religious. And this great Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear.

fundamental truth, unestablished, or unawakened He wood the fair Aspasia : she was kind :

in the minds of men, is, I conceive, the real In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were blest; source and support of all our infidelity; how reAll who knew, envied ; yet in envy lov'd:

mote soever the particular objections advanced Can fancy form more finisht happiness?

may seem to be from it. Fixt was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome Sensible appearances affect most men much more Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires than abstract reasonings; and we daily see bodies Float in the wave, and break against the shore : drop around us, but the soul is invisible. The So break those glittering shadows, human joys. power which inclination has over the judgment, is The faithless morning smild: he takes his leave, greater than can be well conceived by those that To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve.

have not had an experience of it; and of what The rising storm forbids. The news arrives : numbers is it the sad interest that souls should not Untold, she saw it in her servant's eye.

survive! The heathen world confessed, that they She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel);

rather hoped, than firmly believed, immortality! And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, And how many heathens have we still amongst In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb.

us! The sacred page assures us, that life and imNow, round the sumptuous, bridal monument, mortality is brought to light by the Gospel : but by The guilty billows innocently roar;

how many is the Gospel rejected, or overlooked ! And the rough sailor, passing, drops a tear;

From these considerations, and from my being A tear ? Can tears suffice –But not for me. accidentally privy to the sentiments of some parHow vain our efforts! and our arts how vain! ticular persons, I have been long persuaded that The distant train of thought I took to shun,

most, if not all, our infidels (whatever name they Has thrown me on my fate. These died together; take, and whatever scheme, for argument's sake, Happy in ruin! undivorc'd by death!

and to keep themselves in countenance, they paOr ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace

tronize) are supported in their deplorable error, Narcissa! Pity bleeds at thought of thee.

by some doubt of their immortality, at the bottom. Yet thou wast only near me ; not myself.

And I am satisfied, that men once thoroughly con

vinced of their immortality, are not far from being But why more woe? More comfort let it be, Christians. For it is hard to conceive, that a man, Nothing is dead, but that which wish'd to die; fully conscious eternal pain or happiness will cer- Nothing is dead, but wretchedness and pain; tainly be his lot, should not earnestly, and impar. Nothing is dead, but what encumber'd, gallid, tially, inquire after the surest means of escaping Block'd up the pass, and barr’d from real life. one, and securing the other. And of such an Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise ? earnest and impartial inquiry, I well know the Too dark the Sun to see it; highest stars consequence.

Too low to reach it; Death, great Death alone, Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental O'er stars and Sun triumphant, lands us there.

truth, some plain arguments are offered ; argu- Nor dreadful our transition ; though the inind,
menis derived from principles which infidels admit An artist at creating self-alarms,
in common with believers; arguments, which ap- Rich in expedients for inquietude,
pear to me altogether irresistible; and such as, Is prone to paint it dreadful Who can take
I am satisfied, will have great weight with all, Death's portrait true? The tyrant never sat.
who give themselves the small trouble of looking Our sketch all random strukes, conjecture all;
seriously into their own bosoms, and of observing, Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single talo.
with any tolerable degree of attention, what daily Death, and his image rising in the brain,
passes round about them in the world. If some Bear faint resemblance; never are alike;
arguments shall, here, occur, which others have Fear shakes the pencil; Fancy loves excess ;
declined, they are submitted, with all deference, Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades :
to better judgmenis in this, of points the most And these the formidable picture draw.
important. For, as to the being of a God, that is But grant the worst; 'tis past; new prospects rise;
no longer disputed; but it is undisputed for this And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb.
reason only; viz. because, where the least pre- Far other views our contemplation claim,
tence to reason is admitted, it must for ever be Views that o'erpay the rigors of our life ;
indisputable. And of consequence no man can be views that suspend our agonies in death.
betrayed into a dispute of that nature by vanity; Wrapt in the thought of immortality,
which has a principal share in animating our mod- Wrapt in the single, the triumphant thought!
ern combatants against other articles of our belief. Long life might lapse, age unperceiv'd come on;

And find the soul unsated with her theme.
SHE* (for I know not yet her name in Heaven)
Not early, like Narcissa, left the scene;

Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song.
Nor sudden, like Philander. What avail ?

O that my song could emulate my soul!

Like her, immortal. No-lhe soul disdains
This seeming mitigation but inflames;
This fancied medicine heightens the disease.

A mark so mean; far nobler hope inflames;
The longer known, the closer still she grew;

If endless ages can outweigh an hour, And gradual parting is a gradual death,

Let not the laurel, but the palm, inspire. 'Tis the grim tyrant's engine, which extorts,

Thy nature, immortality! who knows? By tardy pressure's still increasing weight,

And yet who knows it not? It is but life
From hardest hearts, confession of distress.

In stronger thread of brighter color spun,
O the long, dark approach through years of pain, In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here !

for ever; dipt by cruel fate
Death's gallery! (might I dare to call it so)
With dismal doubt, and sable terror, hung:

How short our correspondence with the Sun! Sick hope's pale lamp, its only glimmering ray;

And while it lasts, inglorious! Our best decds, There, fate my melancholy walk ordain'd,

How wanting in their weight! Our highest joys, Forbid self-love itself to flatter, there.

Small cordials to support us in our pain, How oft I gaz'd, prophetically sad !

And give us strength to suffer. But how great,

To mingle interests, converse amities, How oft I saw her dead, while yet in smiles !

With all the sons of reason, scatter'd wide In smiles she sunk her grief to lessen mine.

Through habitable space, wherever born, She spoke me comfort, and increas'd my pain.

Howe'er endow'd! To live free citizens
Like powerful armies trenching at a town,

Of universal Nature! To lay hold
By slow, and silent, but resistless sap,
In his pale progress gently gaining ground,

By more than feeble failh on the Supreme !

To call Heaven's rich unfathomable mines
Death urg'd his deadly siege; in spite of art,
Of all the balmy blessings Nature lends

(Mines, which support archangels in their state)

Our own! To rise in science, as in bliss, To succor frail humanity. Ye stars !

Initiate in the secrets of the skies! (Not now first made familiar to my sight) And thou, O Moon! bear witness ; many a night

To read creation; read its mighty plan He tore the pillow from beneath my head,

In the bare bosom of the Deity! Tied down by sore attention to the shock,

The plan, and execution, to collate! By ceaseless depredations on a life

To see, before each glance of piercing thought, Dearer than that he left me.

Dreadful post

All cloud, all shadow, blown remote; and leave of observation! darker every hour!

No mystery—but that of love divine,

Which lists us on the seraph's flaming wing, Less dread the day that drove me to the brink,

From Earth's aceldama, this field of blood, and pointed al eternity below; When my soul shudder'd at futurity ;

Of inward anguish, and of outward ill,

From darkness, and from dust, to such a scene ! When, on a moment's point, th' important die of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell,

Love's element! true joy's illustrious home! And turn'd up life; my title to more woe.

From Earth's sad contrast (now deplor’d) more fair'

What exquisite vicissitude of fate! • Referring to Night V.

Blest absolution of our blackest hour'

And spun

Lorenzo, these are thoughts that make man, man, In endless voyage, without port? The least The wise illumine, aggrandize the great.

of these disseminated orbs, how great! How great, (while yet we tread the kindred clod, Great as they are, what numbers these surpass, And every moment fear to sink beneath

Huge, as leviathan, to that small race, The clod we tread; soon trodden by our sons) Those twinkling multitudes of little life, How great, in the wild whirl of time's pursuits, He swallows unperceiv'd ? Stupendous these! To stop, and pause, involvid in high presage, Yet what are these stupendous to the whole ! Through the long vista of a thousand years, As particles, as atoms ill perceiv'd ; To stand contemplating onr distant selves,

As circulating globules in our veins; As in a magnifying mirror seen,

So vast the plan. Fecundity divine! Enlarg‘d, ennobled, elevate, divine !

Exuberant source! perhaps, I wrong thee still. To prophesy our own futurities;

If admiration is a source of joy, To gaze in ihought on what all thought transcends! What transport hence! yet this the least in Heaven. To talk, with fellow-candidates, of joys

What this to that illustrious robe he wears, As far beyond conception as desert,

Who toss'd this mass of wonders from his hand, Ourselves th' astonish'd talkers, and the tale! A specimen, an earnest of his power?

Lorenzo, swells thy bosom at the thought? "Tis to that glory, whence all glory flows, The swell becomes thee: 'tis an honest pride. As the mead's meanest floweret to the Sun, Revere thyself;—and yet thyself despise.

Which gave it birth. But what, this Sun of Heaven?
His nature no man can o'er-rate ; and none This bliss supreme of the supremely blest ?
Can under-rate his merit. Take good heed, Death, only Death, the question can resolve.
Nor there be modest, where thou shouldst be proud; By Death, cheap-bought th' ideas of our joy;
That almost universal error shun.

The bare ideas! solid happiness
How just our pride, when we behold those heights ! So distant from its shadow chas'd below.
Not those ambition paints in air, but those

And chase we still the phantom through the fire, Reason points out, and ardent virtue gains ; O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death? • And angels emulate: our pride how just! [quit And toil we still for sublunary pay ?

When mount we? When these shackles cast? When Defy the dangers of the field and flood,
This cell of the creation ? this small nest,

Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all,
Stuck in a corner of the universe,

Our more than vitals spin (if no regard
Wrapt up in fleecy cloud, and fine-spun air ? "To great futurity) in curious webs
Fine-spun to sense; but gross and feculent Of subile thought, and exquisite design ;
To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe (Fine net-work of the brain!) to catch a fly?
Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky;

The momentary buzz of vain renown!
Greatly triumphant on time's further shore, A name; a mortal immortality !
Where virtue reigns, enrich'd with full arrears; Or (meaner still!) instead of grasping air,
While pomp imperial begs an alms of peace. For sordid lucre, plunge we in the mire ?

In empire high, or in proud science deep, Drudge, sweat, through every shame, for every gain
Ye born of Earth! on what can you confer, For vile contaminating trash ; throw up
With half the dignity, with half the gain,

Our hope in Heaven, our dignity with man? The gust, the glow of rational delight,

And deify the dirt, matur'd to gold ? As on this theme, which angels praise and share ? Ambition, avarice ; the two demons these, Man's fates and favors are a theme in Heaven. Which goad through every slough our human herd,

What wretched repetition cloys us here ! Hard-travel'd from the cradle to the grave. What periodic potions for the sick!

How low the wretches stoop! How steep they climb! Distemper'd bodies ! and distemper'd minds ! These demons burn mankind; but most possess In an eternity, what scenes shall strike!

Lorenzo's bosom, and turn out the skies. Adventures thicken! novelties surprise!

Is it in time to hide eternity ? What webs of wonder shall unravel, there! And why not in an atom on ihe shore What full day pour on all the paths of Heaven, To cover ocean? or a mote, the Sun ? And light th’Almighty's footsteps in the deep! Glory and wealth! have they this blinding power? How shall the blessed day of our discharge What if to them I prove Lorenzo blind ? Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of late,

Would it surprise thee? Be thou then surpris’d ; And straighten its inextricable maze!

Thou neither know'st ; their nature learn from me. If inextinguishable thirst in man

Mark well, as foreign as these subjects seem, To know, how rich, how full, our banquet there! What close connexion ties them to my theme. There, not the moral world alone unfolds;

First, what is true ambition? The pursuit The world material, lately seen in shades,

Of glory, nothing less than man can share. And, in those shades, by fragments only seen, Were they as vain as gaudy-minded man, And seen those fragments by the laboring eye, As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, Unbroken, then, illustrious and entire,

Their arts and conquests animals might boast, Its ample sphere, its universal frame,

And claim their laurel crowns, as well as we; In full dimensions, swells to the survey ;

But not celestial. Here we stand alone ;
And enters, at one glance, the ravisht sight. As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent;
From some superior point (where, who can tell ? If prone in thought, our stature is our shame :
Suffice it, 'tis a point where gods reside)

And man should blush, his forehead meets the skies
How shall the stranger man's illumind eye, The visible and present are for brutes,
In the vast ocean of unbounded space,

A slender portion! and a narrow bound ! Behold an infinite of floating worlds

These reason, with an energy divine, Divide the crystal waves of ether pure,

O'erleaps ; and claims the future and unseen ;

The vast unseen! the future fathomless!

Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? When the great soul buoys up to this high point, That treacherous pride betrays the dignity; Leaving gross Nature's sediments below,

That pride defames humanity, and calls Then, and then only, Adam's offspring quits The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. The sage and hero of the fields and woods, That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars, Asserts his rank, and rises into man.

From blindness bold, and towering to the skies. This is ambition : this is human fire.

"Tis born of ignorance, which knows not man ; Can parts or place (two bold pretenders!) make An angel's second ; nor his second, long. Lorenzo great, and pluck him from the throng? A Nero quitting his imperial throne,

Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, And courting glory from the tinkling string, Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid !

But faintly shadows an immortal soul, Dedalian enginery! If these alone

With empire's self, to pride, or rapture, fir’d. Assist our flight, fame's flight is glory's fall.

If nobler motives minister no cure, Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, E'en vanity forbids thee to be vain. Our height is but the gibbet of our name.

High worth is elevated place : 'tis more; A celebrated wretch, when I behold;

It makes the post stand candidate for thee; When I behold a genius bright, and base,

Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man; Of towering talents, and terrestrial aims;

Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, And though it wears no riband, 'tis renown; The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgrac'd With rubbish mixd, and glittering in the dust. Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight,

Other ambition Nature interdicts;
At once compassion soft, and envy, rise-

Nature proclaims it most absurd in man,
But wherefore envy? Talents, angel-bright, By pointing at his origin, and end ;
If wanting worth, are shining instruments

Milk, and a swathe, at first, his whole demand ; In false ambition's hand, to finish faults

His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone; Illustrious, and give infamy renown.

To whom, between, a world may seem too small. Great ill is an achievement of great powers. Souls truly great dart forward on the wing Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray.

Of just ambition, to the grand result:
Reason the means, affections choose our end ; The curtains fall : there, see the buskin'd chief
Means have no merit, if our end amiss.

Unshod behind this momentary scene;
If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain ; Reduc'd to his own stature, low or high,
What is a Pelham's head, to Pelham's heart? As vice, or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes;
Hearts are proprietors of all applause.

And laugh at this fantastic mummery,
Right ends, and means, make wisdom: worldly-wise This antic prelude of grotesque events,
Is but half-witted, at its highest praise.

Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray
Let genius then despair to make thee great ; A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run,
Nor Matter station. What is station high?

And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice
'Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs ; To Christian pride! which had with horror shock'd
It begs an alms of homage from the throng, The darkest Pagans offer'd to their gods.
And oft the throng denies its charity.

O thou most Christian enemy to peace ; Monarchs and ministers are awful names ! Again in arms? Again provoking fate? Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. That prince, and that alone, is truly great, Religion, public order, both exact

Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheathes; External homage, and a supple knee,

On empire builds what empire far outweighs, To beings pompously set up, to serve

And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies. The meanest slave; all more is merit's due,

Why this so rare? Because forgot of all Her sacred and inviolable right,

The day of death ; that venerable day, Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man.

Which sits as judge; that day, which shall pronounce
Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth ; On all our days, absolve them, or condemn.
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there.

Lorenzo, never shut thy thought against it;
Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room,
And vote the mantle into majesty.

And give it audience in the cabinet.
Let the small savage boast his silver fur;

That friend consulted, flatteries apart, IIis royal robe unborrow'd, and unbought,

Will tell thee fair, if thou art great, or mean. ilis own, descending fairly from his sires.

To dote on aught may leave us, or be left, Shall man be proud to wear his livery,

Is that ambition? Then let flames descend, And souls in ermine scorn a soul without ?

Point to the centre their inverted spires,
Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize ?

And learn humiliation from a soul,
Pygmies are pygmies still, though perch'd on alps; Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire.
And pyramids are pyramids in vales.

Yet these are they the world pronounces wise ; Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: The world which cancels Nature's right and wrong, Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids:

And casts new wisdom : e'en the grave man lends
Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall. His solemn face, to countenance the coin.
of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole.
The cause is lodg'd in immortality.

This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave
Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power; To call the wisest weak, the richest poor,
What station charme thee? I'll instal thee there; The most ambitious, unambitious, mean;
'Tis Thine. And art thou greater than before ! In triumph, mean; and abject on a throne.
Then thou before wast something less than man. Nothing can make it less than mad in man,

To put forth all his ardor, all his art,

Of his idea, whose indulgent thought And give his soul her full unbounded flight, Long, long, ere chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss. But reaching him, who gave her wings to fly.

What wealth in souls that soar, dive, range When blind ambition quite mistakes her road,

around, And downward pores, for that which shines above, Disdaining limit, or from place or time; Substantial happiness, and true renown;

And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook,

Th' Almighty fial, and the trumpet's sound ! We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud;

Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view At glory grasp, and sink in infamy.

What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; Ambition! powerful source of good and ill! Commanding. with omnipotence of thought, Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, Creations new in faney's field to rise ! When disengag'd from Earth, with greater ease, Souls, that can grasp whate'er th' Almighty made, And swifter flight, transports us to the skies ; And wander wild through things impossible! By toys entangled, or in gilt bemir’d,

What weallh, in faculties of endless growth, It turns a curse ; it is our chain, and scourge, In quenchless passions violent to crave, In this dark dungeon, where confin'd we lic, In liberty to choose, in power to reach, Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ;

And in duration (how thy riches rise !) All prospect of eternity shut out;

Duration to perpetuate-boundless bliss ! And, but for execution, ne'er set free.

Ask you, what power resides in feeble man With error in ambition justly charged,

That bliss to gain? Is virtue's, then, unknown? Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth ?

Virtue, our present peace, our future prize. What if thy rental I reform? and draw

Man's unprecarious, natural estate, An inventory new to set thee right?

Improvable at will, in virtue lies; Where thy true treasure ? Gold says, “Not in me:" Its tenure sure; its income is divine. And. “ Not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor; High-built abundance, heap on heap! for what? India 's insolvent; seek it in thyself,

To breed new wants, and beggar us the more ; Seek in thy naked self, and find it there;

Then make a richer scramble for the throng? In being so descended, form’d, endow'd;

Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race! Almost by miracle, is tir'd with play, Erect, immortal, rational, divine !

Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown, In senses which inherit Earth, and Heavens ; Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly; Enjoy the various riches Nature yields ;

Fly diverse ; fly to foreigners, to foes; Far nobler! give the riches they enjoy ;

New masters court, and call the former fool Give taste to fruits; and harmony to groves ; (How justly!) for dependence on their stay. Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright fire; Wide scatter, first, our playthings; then, our dust. Take in, at once, the landscape of the world,

Dost court abundance for the sake of peace ? At a small inlet, which a grain might close, Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : And half-create the wondrous world they see. Riches enable to be richer still; Our senses, as our reason, are divine.

And, richer still, what mortal can resist? But for the magic organ's powerful charm, Thus wealth (a cruel task-maker!) enjoins Earth were a rude, uncolor'd chaos, still.

New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train Objects are but th’occasion; ours th' exploit ; And murders peace, which taught it first to shine Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint,

The poor are half as wretched as the rich; Which Nature's admirable picture draws ; Whose proud and painful privilege it is, And beautifies creation's ample dome.

At once, to bear a double load of woe; Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake, To feel the stings of envy, and of want, Man makes the matchless image, man admires. Outrageous want! both Indies cannot cure. Say, then, shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad, A competence is vital to content. Superior wonders in himself forgot,

Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease ; His admiration waste on objects round,

Sick, or encumber'd, is our happiness. When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees? A competence is all we can enjoy. Absurd ! not rare! so great, so mean, is man. O be content, where Heaven can give no more! What wealth in senses such as these! What wealth More, like a flash of water from a lock, In fancy, fir'd to form a fairer scene

Quickens our spirits' movement for an hour; Than sense surveys! In memory's firm record, But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys Which, should it perish, could this world recall Above our native temper's common stream. From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years! Hence disappointment lurks in every prize, In colors fresh, originally bright,

As bees in flowers; and stings us with success. Preserve its portrait, and report its fate!

The rich man, who denies it, proudly seigns ; What wealth in intellect, that sovereign power, Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie. Which sense and fancy summons to the bar; Much learning shows how little mortals know ; Interrogates, approves, or reprehends;

Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy ; And from the mass those underlings import, At best, it babies us with endless toys, From their materials sifted, and refin'd,

And keeps us children till we drop to dust. And in truth's balance accurately weigh’d, As monkeys at a mirror stand amazid, Forms art, and science, government, and law ; They fail to find what they so plainly see; The solid basis, and the beauteous frame,

Thus men, in shining riches, see the face The vitals, and the grace of civil life!

Of happiness, nor know it is a shade; And manners (sad exception!) set aside,

But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again Strikes out, with master-hand, a copy fair

And wish, and wonder it is absent still.

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