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or deftructive of virtue, v. 167. That even thefe can make no man happy without virtue: Inftanced in riches, ver. 185. Honours. v. 193. Nobility, v. 205. Greatnefs, v. 217. Fame, ver. 237. Superior talents, v. 259. &c. With pictures of human infelicity in men poffeffed of them all, ver. 269, &c. VII. That virtue only conftitutes a happiness, whofe object is univerfal, and whose prospect is eternal, v. 309, &c. That the perfection of virtue and happiness consists in a conformity to the ORDER of PROVIDENCE here, and a refignation to it here and hereafter, v. 326, &c.

OH HAPPINESS! our being's end and aim !

Good, pleasure, eafe, content! whate'er thy name:
That fomething still which prompts th' eternal figh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die,
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'er-look'd, feen double, by the fool, and wife.
Plant of celestial feed! if dropt below,

Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair opening to fome court's propitious shine,
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?

Where grows where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the foil:
Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,

"Tis no where to be found, or every where:
'Tis never to be bought, but always free,

And fled from monarchs, ST. JOHN ! dwells with thee.

Afk of the Learn'd the way? The Learn'd are blind;
This bids to ferve, and that to fhun mankind;
Some place the blefs in action, fome in ease,
Thofe call it pleasure, and contentment these ;
Some funk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain;
Some fwell'd to gods, confefs even virtue vaiır;
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall,
To truft in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all.

Who thus define it, fay they more or lefs
Than this, That happiness is happiness ?

Take nature's path, and mad opinion's leave;
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we please,
Equal is common fenfe, and common cafe.

Remember, man," the Univerfal Caufe
"Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;"
And makes what happiness we justly call
Subfift not in the good of one, but all.
T'ere's not a bleffing individuals find,

But fome way leans and hearkens to the kind:
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride,
No cavern'd hermit, refts felf-fatisfy'd :
Who most to fhun or hate mankind pretend,
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend :
Abstract what others feel, what others think,
All pleasures ficken, and all glories fink:
Each has his fhare; and who would more obtain,
Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.

H

B

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ORDER is Heaven's first law; and this confeft, Some are, and muft be, greater than the reft. More rich, more wife; but who infers from hence

That such are happier,

fhocks all common sense.

Heaven to mankind impartial we confess,

If all are equal in their happiness :
But mutual wants this happiness increase;

All nature's difference keeps all nature's peace.
Condition, circumstance is not the thing;
Blifs is the fame in fubject or in king,

In whom obtain defence, or who defend,

In him who is, or him who finds a friend:
Heaven breathes thro' every member of the whole
One common bleffing, as one common foul.
But fortune's gifts if each alike poffeft,
And each were equal, muft not all contest?
If then to all men happiness was meant,
God in externals could not place content.

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
And these be happy call'd, unhappy thofe ;
But Heaven's just balance equal will appear,
While thofe are plac'd in hope, and thefe in fear:
Not prefent good or ill, the joy or curfe,

But future views of better, or of worse.

Oh fons of earth attempt ye ftill to rife, By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? Heaven ftill with laughter the vain toil furveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raife.

Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,

Reafon's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence.
But health confifts with temperance alone ;
And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own.
The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain;
But these lefs taste them, as they worfe obtain.
Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,

Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right?
Of vice or virtue, whether bleft or cust,

Which meets contempt, or which compaffion first ?
Count all th' advantage profp'rous vice attains,
"Tis but what virtue flies from and difdains:
And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd,
One they must want, which is, to pals for good.

Oh blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below, Who fancy blifs to vice, to virtue woę;

Who fees and follows that great scheme the best,
Best knows the bleffing and will most be bleft.
But fools, the good alone, unhappy call,

For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See FALKLAND dies, the virtuous aud the just!
See godlike TURENNE proftrate on the dust !
See SIDNEY bleeds amid the martial strife!
Was this their virtue, or contempt of life?
Say, was it virtue, more tho' heaven ne'er gave,
Lamented DIGBY! funk thee to the grave?
Tell me, if virtue made the fon expire,
Why, full of days and honour, lives the fire?
Why drew Marseilles' good bifhop purer breath,
When nature ficken'd, and each gale was death!

Or why fo long (in life if long can be)
Lent Heav'n a parent to the poor and me?
What makes all physical or moral ill ?
There deviates Nature, and here wanders Will,
GOD fends not ill; if rightly understood,
Or partial Ill is univerfal Good,

Or Change admits, or nature lets it fall,
Short, and but rare, 'till Man improv'd it all.
We juft as wifely might of Heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain,
As that the virtuous fon is ill at eafe

When his lewd father gave the dire disease.

Think we, like fome weak Prince, th' Eternal Caufe Prone for his fav'rites to reverfe his laws?

Shall burning Etna, if a fage requires,

Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
On air or fea new motions be imprest,
Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast?
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shal gravitation ceafe, if you go by?

Or fome old temple, nodding to its fall,
For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall!
But still this world (fo fitted for the knave)
Contents us not. A better fhall we have?
A kingdom of the just then let it be:
But first confider how thofe Just agree.
The good muft me it God's peculiar care;
But who, but GoD, can tell us who they are?
One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own Spirit fell;
Another deems him inftrument of hell:

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