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Ah! if the lend not arms, as well as rules,
What can fhe more than tell us we are fools?
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
A sharp accufer, but a helpless friend!
Or from a judge turn pleader, to perfuade
The choice we make, or justify it made;
Proud of an eafy conqueft all along,
She but removes weak paffions for the strong:
So, when small humours gather to a gout,
The doctor fancies he has driven them out.

Yes, nature's road must ever be prefer'd; Reafon is here no guide, but ftill a guard; "Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow,

And treat this paffion more as friend than foe;
A mightier power the ftrong direction fends,
And several men impels to feveral ends :
Like varying winds, by other passions tost,
This drives them conftant to a certain coaft.
Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please,
Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease;
Thro' life 'tis follow'd, even at life's expence :
The merchant's toil, the fage's indolence,
The monk's humility, the hero's pride,
All, all alike, find reafon on their fide.

Th' Eternal Art educing good from ill,
Grafts on this passion our best principle:
'Tis thus the Mercury of man is fix'd
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd;
The drofs cements what elfe were too refin'd,
And in one interest body acts with mind.

As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care, On favage stocks inferted learn to bear; The fureft virtues thus from paffions shoot Wild nature's vigor working at the root. What crops of wit and honefty appear From fpleen, from obftinacy, hate, or fear! See anger, zeal and fortitude fupply; Even avarice, prudence; floth, philosophy; Luft, thro' fome certain ftrainers well refin'd, Is gentle love, and charms all womankind; Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a flave, Is emulation in the learn'd or brave; Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame, Thus nature gives us (let it check onr pride) The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd: Reafon the bias turns to good from ill, And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will. The fiery foul abhorr'd in Catiline, In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine: The fame ambition can destroy or fave, And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.

This light and darkness in our chaos join'd, What fhall divide? The GoD within the mind. Extremes in nature equal ends produce, In man they join to fome mysterious use; Tho' each by turns the other's bounds invade, As, in fome well-wrought picture, light and shade, And oft fo mix, the difference is too nice Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.

Fools! who from hence into the notion fall,
That vice or virtue there is none at all.
If white and black blend, foften, and unite
A thousand ways, is there no black or white?
Ak your own heart, and nothing is fo plain;
'Tis to mistake them, cofts the time and pain.

Vice is a monster of fo frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet feen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
But where th' Extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed :

Ak where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,

At Greenland, Zembla, or the LORD knows where.
No creature owns it in the first degree,

But thinks his neighbour further gone than he :
Even those who dwell beneath its very zone,
Or never feel the rage, or never own;
What happier natures fhrink at with affright,
The hard inhabitant contends is right.

Virtuous and vicious every man must be,
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree;
The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wife;
And even the beft, by fits, what they defpife.
"Tis but by parts we follow good or ill;

For, vice or virtue, felf directs it ftill;
Each individual feeks a feveral goal;

But HEAVEN'S great view is One, and that the Whole

That counter-works each folly and caprice;

That disappoints th' effect of every vice;

That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd;
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief,
To kings prefumption, and to crowds belief:
That, virtue's ends from vanity can raife,
Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise ;
And build on wants, and on defects of mind,
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.

Heaven forming each on other to depend,
A mafter, or a fervant, or a friend,
Bids each on other for affiftance call,

"Till one man's weakness grows the ftrength of all.
Wants, frailties, paffions, clofer still ally
The common intereft, or endear the tie.
To these we owe true friendship, love fincere,
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here;
Yet from the fame we learn, in its decline,
Those joys, thofe loves, those interests to refign;
Taught half by reason, half by mere decay,
To welcome death, and calmly pass away.

Whate'er the paffion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
Not one will change his neighbour with himself.
The learn'd is happy nature to explore,
The fool is happy that he knows no more;
The rich is happy in the plenty given,
The poor contents him with the care of heaven.
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple fing,
The fot a hero, lunatic a king;
The starving chemist in his golden views
Supremely bleft, the poet in his muse.

See fome ftrange comfort every state attend, And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend : See some fit passion every age supply, Hope travels thro', nor quits us when we die. Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw: Some livelier play-thing gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite : Scarfs, garters, gold, amufe his riper stage, And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age: Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before; 'Till tir'd he fleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. Mean-while opinion gilds with varying rays Thofe painted clouds that beautify our days; Each want of happiness by hope fupply'd, And each vacuity of fenfe by pride: Thefe build as faft as knowledge can destroy; In folly's cup till laughs the bubble joy; One profpect loft, another still we gain; And not a vanity is given in vain;


Even mean felf-love becomes, by force divine, 1 The feale to measure others wants by thine.

See! and confefs, one comfort ftill must rife;
'Tis this, Tho' man's a fool, yet GOD IS WISE.

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