In every breaft there burns an active flame,
The Love of Glory, or the Dread of Shame :
The Paffion One, though various it appear,
As brighten'd into Hope, or dimm'd by Fear.
The lifping Infant, and the hoary Sire,

And Youth and Manhood feel the heart-born fire:
The Charms of Praife the Coy, the Modest woo,
And only fly, that Glory may purfue
She, Power refifilefs, rules the wife and great
Bends ev'n reluctant Hermits at her feet;
Haunts the proud City, and the lowly Shade,
And (ways alike the Sceptre and the Spade.

Thus Heaven in Pity wakes the friendly Flame To urge Mankind on Deeds that merit Fame: But Man, vain Man, in Folly only wife, Rejects the Manna fent him from the Skies; With raptures bears corrupted Paffion's call, Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall. As each deceitful Shadow tempts his view, He for the imag'd Subftance quits the true i Eager to catch the vifionary Prize, In queft of Glory plunges deep in Vice Till madly zealous, impotently vain, He forfeits every Praife he pants to gain.

Thus ftill imperious Nature plies her part And still her Dictates work in every heart. Each Power that fovereign Nature bids enjoy, Man may corrupt, but Man can ne'er deftroy. Like mighty rivers, with refiftless force The Paffions rage, obftructed in their courfe ; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, And drown those virtues which they fed before.

40

95

55

60

110

115

120

And Force, ftrong-finew'd, rends th' unequal toils:
The stream of Vice impetuous drives along,
Too deep for Policy, for Power too ftrong.
Ev'n fair Religion, Native of the fkies,
Scorn'd by the Crowd, feeks refuge with the Wife;
The Crowd with laughter fpurns her awful train,
And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain.
But Satire's Shaft can pierce the harden'd breast:
She plays a ruling Paflion on the rest:
Undaunted ftorms the batt'ry of his pride,
And awes the Brave that Earth and Heaven defy'd.
When fell Corruption, by her vaffals crown'd,
Derides fall'n Justice proftrate on the ground;
Swift to redress an injur'd People's groan,
Bold Satire fhakes the Tyrant on her throne;
Powerful as Death, defies the fordid train,
And Slaves and Sycophants furround in vain.

130

70

But with the friends of Vice, the foes of Satire, All truth is Spleen; all just reproof, Jil-nature.

65

And fure, the deadlieft 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 opprefs'd, We feek our Virtues in each other's breast; Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign Vice, Another's weakness, intereft, or caprice. Each Fool to low Ambition, poorly great, That pines in fplendid wretchedness of Яtate, Tir'd in the treacherous Chafe, would nobly yield, And, but for fhame, like Sylla, quit the field: The Dæmon Shame paints ftrong the ridicule, And whispers close, "The World will call you Fool."

Behold yon Wretch, by impious fashion driven, 75 Believes and trembles, while he fcoff's at Heaven. By weakness ftrong, and bold through fear alone, He dreads the fneer by thallow Coxcombs thrown; Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod; To man a Coward, and a Brave to God,

80

Faith, Juftice, Heaven itself now quit their hold, When to falfe Fame the captive Heart is fold: Hence, blind to truth, relentlefs Cato dy'd; Nought could fubdue his Virtue, but his Pride. Hence chafte Lucretia's Innocence betray'd Fell by that Honour which was meant its aid. Thus Virtue finks beneath unnumber'd woes, When Paffions, born her friends revolt her faes.

Well may they dread the Mufe's fatal kill; Well may they tremble when the draws her quill: Her magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's fpear,

Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear Bids Vice and Folly take their natural shapes, Turns Duchefles to ftrumpets, Beauxs to apes; Drags the vile Whifperer from his dark abode, Till all the Dæmon starts up from the toad.

325

135

140

145

150

365 Wit's fhattered Mirror lies in fragments bright, Reflects not Nature, but confounds the fight. Dry Morals the Court-Poet blush'd to fing; "Twas all his praife to fay "the oddeft thing." Proud for a jest obfcene, a Patron's nod, To martyr Virtue, or blafpheme his God.

370

For Satire's bow refign'd the founding lyre;
Each arrow polish'd in his hand was feen,

And, as it grew more polith'd, grew more keen.
His art, conceal'd in ftudy'd negligence;
Politely fly, cajol'd the foes of fenfe;
He feem'd to fport and trifle with the dart;
But, while he fported, drove it to the heart:

In graver ftrains majestic Perfius wrote;
Big with a ripe exuberance of thought;
Greatly fedate, contemn'da Tyrant's reign,
And lash'd Corruption with a calin difdain.
More ardent Eloquence, and boundless rage,
Inflame bold Juvenal's exalted page.
His mighty numbers aw'd corrupted Rome;
And fwept audacious greatnefs to its doom;
The headlong torrent, thundering from on high;
Rent the proud rock that lately brav'd the sky.

But lo! the fatal Victor of Mankind, Swoln Luxury!-pale Ruin ftalks behind! As countless Infects from the north-east pour; To blaft the Spring, and ravage every flower; So barbarous Millions fpread contagious death: The fickening Laurel wither'd at their breath. Deep Superftition's night the fkies o'erhung, Beneath whofe balefui dews the Poppy fprung. No longer Genius woo'd the Nine to love, But Dulness nodded in the Mufe's grove; Wit, Spirit, Freedom, were the fole offence, Nor aught was held fo dangerous as Senfe.

At length, again fair Science shot her ray, Dawn'd in the skies, and fpoke returning day. Now, Satire, triumph o'er thy flying foe, Now load thy quiver, ftring thy flacken'd bow! 'Tis done-See great Erafmus breaks the spell, And wounds triumphant Folly in her Cell! (In vain the folemn Cowl furrounds her face, Vain all her bigot cant, her four grimace) With fhame compell' her leaden throne to quit, And own the force of Reafon urg'd by Wit.

380

A Mufe whom Wifdom 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; 44
Unrival'd Parts, the fcorn of honeft fame;
And Genius rife, a Monument of fhame!

But fee, at length, the British Genius fmile. And shower her bounties o'er her favour'd Isle: 49 Behold for Pope the twines the laurel crown, And centres every Poet's power in one : Each Roman's force adorns his various page; 395 Gay fmiles, collected ftrength, and manly rage. Defpairing Guilt and Dulnefs loath the fight, As Spectres vanifh at approaching light; In this clear Mirror with delight we view Each Image juftly fine, and boldly true : 400 Here Vice dragg'd forth by Truth's fupreme decret. Beholds and hates her own deformity;

410

While felf-feen Virtue in the faithful line With modeft joys furveys her form divine. But oh, what thoughts, what numbers fhall I find, But fainly to exprefs the Poet's mind! 405 Who yonder Stars' effulgence can difplay, Unless he dip his pencil in the ray ? Who paint a God, unlefs the God inspire? What catch the lightning, but the speed of fire? So, mighty Pope, to make thy Genius known, All power is weak, all numbers-but thy own. 47 Each Mufe for thee with kind contention ftreve, For thee the Graces left th' Idalian grove; With watchful fondness o'er thy craddle hung, Attun'd thy voice, and form'd thy infant tongue. Next to her Bard majestic Wifdom came; The bard enraptur'd caught the heavenly flame With tafte fuperior scorn'd the venal tribe, Whom fear can fway, or guilty greatnefs bribe; At Fancy's 's call who rear the wanton fail, Sport with the ftream, and triffe in the gale: Sublimer views thy daring Spirit bound; Thy mighty Voyage was Creation's round; Intent new Worlds of Wisdom to explore, And blefs Mankind with Virtue's facred store; A nobler joy than Wit can give, impart; And pour a moral transport o'er the heart.

425

500

This praife, immortal Pope, to thee be given.
Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heaven.
Hail, Bard unequal'd, in whose deathless line
Reafon and wit with ftrength collected shine;
Where matchlefs Wit but wins the fecond praife,
Loft, nobly loft, in Truth's fuperior blaze.
Did Friendship e'er mislead thy wandering Mufe?
That Friendship fure may plead the great excufe:
That facred Friendship which infpir'd thy Song, 503!
Fair in defect, and amiably wrong.

Error like this ev'n Truth can fearce reprove;
'Tis almoft Virtue when it Rows from Love.

Ye deathlefs Names, ye Sons of endless praife,
By Vitue crown'd with never-fading bays!
Say, fhall an artiefs Mufe, if you infpire,
Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire?
Or if, O Warburton, infpir'd by You,
The daring Mufe a nobler path pursue,
By You infpir'd, on trembling pinions foar,
The facred founts of focial blits explore,
In her bold numbers chain the Tyrant's rage,
And bid her Country's glory fire her page;
If fuch her fate, do thou, fair Truth, defcend;
And watchful guard her in an honest end:
Kindly fevere, inftruct her equal line

510

515

To court no Friend, no own a Foe but thine.
But if her giddy eye fhould vainly quit
Thy facred paths, to run the maze of wit;

If her apoftate heart should e'er incline To offer incenfe at Corruption's fhrine;

VOL. Vi

ESSAY ON

ΟΝ ΜΑΝ

IN

FOUR EPISTLES;

Το

H. St. John, Lord Bolingbroke.

ÅRGUMENT OF

EPISTLE I

Of the Nature and State of Man with respect to the Universe.

OF Man in the abftrat.-I. That we can judge only with regard to our own fyftem, being ignorant of the relations of fyftems and things, ver. 17, &c. II. That Man is not to be deemed imperfect, but a Being fuited to bis place and rank in the creation, agreeable to the general Order of things, and conformable to Ends and Relations to bim unknown, ver. 35, &c. III. That it is partly upon bis Ignorance of future events, and partly upon the hope of a future ftate, that all bis happiness in the prefent depends, ver. 775 &c. IV. The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to more Perfection, the caufe of Man's error and milery. The impiety of putting himself in the place of God, and judging of the fitness or unfitrefs, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice, of bis difpenfations, ver. 10, &c. V. The abfurdity 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 unreujnableness of his complaints against Providence, rubile in the one band be demands the Perfection of the Angels, and on the other the bodily qualifications of the Brutes; though, to poffefs any of the fenfitive faculties in a bigher degree, would render bim miferable, ver. 173, &c. VII. That throughout the abole vifible world, an univerfal order and gradati. on in the fenfual and mental faculties is obferved, which caufes à fubordination of creature to creature, and of all creatures to Man. The gradations of fenfe, inftinet, thought, reflection, reason; that reas for alone countervails all the other faculties, ver. 20. VIII. How much farther this order and fubordin tion of living creatures may extend above and belr● us; were any part of which broken, not that port only, but the tubule connected creation must be destrezed, ver. 233. IX. The extravagance, madues, and pride of fuch a defire, ver. 250. X. The cone fequence of all the abfolate fubmiffion due to Prov dence, both as to our prefent and future flatt, wer. 281, c. to the end.

A a a