Much pain muft expiate, what much pain procur'd..
Fancy, and fenfe, from an infected fhore,
Thy cargo bring; and peftilence the prize.
Then, fuch thy thirst, (infatiable thirst!
By fond indulgence but inflam'd the more!)
Fancy ftill cruifes, when poor sense is tir'd.
Imagination is the Paphian fhop,
Where feeble happiness, like VULCAN, lame,
Bids foul ideas, in their dark recefs,
And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires),
With wanton art, thofe fatal arrows form,
Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame.
Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there are,.
On angel-wing, defcending from above,
Which thefe, with art divine, would counterwork,
And form celeftial armour for thy peace.
In this is feen Imagination's guilt;
But who can count her follies? She betrays thee,
To think in grandeur there is fomething great.
For works of curious art, and ancient fame,
Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd;
And foreign climes muft cater for thy tafte..
Hence, what difafter!-Tho' the price was paid
That perfecuting prieft, the Turk of Rome,
Whole foot, (ye gods!) tho' cloven, must be kiss'd,
Detain'd thy dinner on the Latian shore;
(Such is the fate of honeft Protestants!)
And poor magnificence is ftarv'd to death.
Hence juft refentment, indignation; ire!
Be pacify'd; If outward things are great,
'Tis magnanimity great things to scorn;
Pompous expences, and parades auguft,
And courts; that infalubrious foil to peace!
True happiness ne'er enter'd at an eye;
True happiness refides in things unfeen.
No fmiles of fortune ever blefs'd the bad,.
Nor can her crowns rob innocence of joys;
That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor
So tell his Holiness, and be reveng'd...
Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good;
Our only conteft, what deferves the name.
Give pleasure's name to nought, but what has pafs'd
Th' authentic feal of reafon, (which, like YORKE,
Demurs on what it paffes), and defies
The tooth of time; when paft, a pleafure ftill;
Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age,
And doubly to be priz'd, as it promotes
Our future, while it forms our prefent, joy.
Some joys the future overcast; and some
Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb.
Some joys endear eternity; fome give
Abhorr'd annihilation dreadful charms.
Are rival joys contending for thy choice?
Confult thy whole existence, and be fafe;
That oracle will put all doubt to flight.
Short is the leffon, tho' my lecture long,
Be good and let Heav'n anfwer for the rest.
Yet, with a figh o'er all mankind, I grant,
In this our day of proof, our land of hope,
The good man has his clouds that intervene ;
Clouds that obfcure his fublunary day,
But never conquer; ev'n the best muft own,
Patience, and resignation, are the pillars
Of human peace on earth. The pillars, thefe;
But thofe of Seth not more remote from thee,
Till this heroic leffon thou haft learnt,
To frown at pleasure, and to fimile in pain.
Fir'd at the profpect of unclouded blifs,
Heav'n in reverfion, like the fun, as yet
Beneath th' horizon, cheers us in this world;
It fheds, on fouls fufceptible of light,
The glorious dawn of our eternal day.
"This (fays LORENZO) is a fair harange;
"But can harangues blow back ftrong Nature's ftreain? "Or ftem the tide Heav'n pufhes thro' our veins, "Which sweeps away man's impotent refolves, "And lays his labour level with the world ?" Themselves men make their comment on mankind
And think nought is, but what they find at bome;
Thus, weakness to chimera turns the truth.
Nothing romantic has the Mufe prefcrib'd,
*Above, LORENZO faw the man of earth,
The mortal man, and wretched was the fight.
To balance that, to comfort, and exalt,
Now fee the man immortal; him, I mean,
Who lives as fuch, whose heart, full bent on Heav'n,
Leans all that way, his bias to the stars.
The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise
His luftre more; tho' bright without a foil.
Obferve his awful portrait; and admire;
Nor ftop at wonder; Imitate, and live.
Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing lefs than angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies;
Like fhips at fea, while in, above the world.
With afpect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him feated on a mount ferene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm:
All the black cares, and tumults, of this life,
Like harınlefs, thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Earth's genuine fons, the fcepter'd, and the slave,
A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! be fees
Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike!
His full reverse in all; What higher praise ?
What stronger demonftration of the right?
The prefent all their care; the future his.
When public welfare calls, or private want,
They give to fame; his bounty be conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature, bis exalt.
Mankind's efteem they court; and be, his own.
Theirs, the wild chafe of falfe felicities;
His, the compos'd poffeffion of the true.
Alike throughout is bis confiftent peace,
All of one colour and an even thread:
While party-coloured fhreds of happiness,
* In a former Night.
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them
A madman's robe; each puff of fortune blows
The tatters by, and shows their nakedness.
He fees with other eyes than theirs; Where they
Behold a sun, be fpies a DEITY;
What makes them only fmile, makes him adore.
Where they fee mountains be but atoms fees;
An empire in bis balance, weighs a grain.
They things terrestrial worship, as divine;
His hopes immortal blow them by, as duft,
That dims his fight, and shortens his furyey,
Which longs, in infinite, to lofe all bound.
Titles and honours (if they prove his fate)
He lays afide, to find his dignity;
No dignity they find in aught befides.
They triumph in externals (which conceal
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipfe,
Himfelf too much be prizes to be proud,
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man.
Too dear he holds his int'reft, to neglect
Another's welfare, or bis right invade ;
Their int'reft, like a lion, lives on prey.
They kindle at the fhadow of a wrong;
Wrong be fuftains with temper, looks on Heav'n
Nor ftoops to think his injurer, his foe ;
Nought, but what wounds his virtue,
A cover'd heart their character defends;
A Cover'd heart denies him half his praise.
With nakednefs his innocence agrees;
While their broad foilage testifies their fall.
Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins
His joys create, their's murder, future blifs.
To triumph in existence, bis alone;
And bis alone, triumphantly to think
His true existence is not yet begun.
His glorious courfe, was yesterday, complete ;
Death, then, was welcome; yet life ftill is fweet.
But nothing charms LORENZO, like the firm, Undaunted breaft.And whofe is that high praise ? S
They yield to pleasure, tho' they danger brave,
And fhow no fortitude, but in the field :
If there they show it, 'tis for glory shown;
Nor will that cordial always man their hearts.
A cordial bis fuftains, that cannot fail;
By pleasure unfubdu'd unbroke by pain,
He fhares in that Omnipotence he trusts;
All-bearing, all-attempting, till he falls;
And when he falls, writes VICI on his fhield.
From magnanimity, all fear above;
From nobler recompence, above applause;
Which owe's to man's short out-look all its charms.
Backward to credit what he never felt,
LORENZO cries-" Where fhines this miracle?
"From what root rifes this immortal man ?”
A root that grows not in LORENZO's ground;
The root diffect, nor wonder at the flow'r.
He follows Nature, (not like*thee), and shows us An uninverted fyftem of a man.
His appetite wears reason's golden chain,
And finds, in due reftraint, its luxury.
His paffion, like an eagle well reclaim'd,
Is taught to fly at nought but infinite.
Patient his hope, un-anxious is his care;
His caution fearlefs, and his grief (if grief
The gods ordain) a stranger to despair.
And why? Because affection, more than meet,
His wifdom leaves not difengag'd from Heav'n,
Thofe fecondary goods that fmile on earth,
He, loving in proportion, loves on peace.
They moft the world enjoy, who leaft admire.
His understanding 'fcapes the common cloud
Of fumes, arifing from a boiling breast;
His head is clear, because his heart is cool,
By worldly competitions uninflam'd.
The mod'rate movements of his foul admit
Distinct ideas, and matur'd debate,
An eye impartial, and an even scale;
Whence judgment found, and unrepenting choice See page 188.
|