With him grew wise, unknowing they were taught; He spoke like them, though not like them he thought:
Nor wept, nor laugh'd at man's perverted state; But left to women this, to idiots that.
View him with sophists famed for fierce contest,
Or crown'd with roses at the jovial feast;
Insulted by a peevish, noisy wife,
Or at the bar foredoom'd to lose his life;
What moving words flow from his artless tongue,
Sublime with ease, with condescension strong!
Yet scorn'd to flatter vice, or virtue blame;
Nor changed to please, but pleased because the
The same by friends caress'd, by foes withstood, Still unaffected, cheerful, mild, and good. Behold one pagan, drawn in colours faint, Outshine ten thousand monks, though each a saint! Here let us fix our foot, hence take our view, And learn to try false merit by the true. We see when reason stagnates in the brain, The dregs of fancy cloud its purest vein; But circulation betwixt mind and mind Extends its course and renders it refined. When warm with youth we tread the flowery way, All nature charms, and every scene looks gay; Each object gratifies each sense in turn, Whilst now for rattles, now for nymphs we burn; Enslaved by friendship's or by love's soft smile, We ne'er suspect because we mean no guile : Till, flush'd with hope from views of past success, We lay on some main trifle all our stress; When lo! the mistress or the friend betrays, And the whole fancied cheat of life displays:
Stunn'd with an ill that from ourselves arose,
For instinct ruled when reason should have chose,
We fly for comfort to some lonely scene,
Victims henceforth of dirt and drink and spleen.
But let no obstacles that cross our views
Pervert our talents from their destined use;
For, as upon life's hill we upwards press,
Our views will be obstructed less and less.
Be all false delicacy far away,
Lest it from nature lead us quite astray;
And for the imagined vice of human race
Destroy our virtue, or our parts debase;
Since God with reason joins to make us own,
That 'tis not good for man to be alone.
RETIREMENT.
An Epistle to Dr. Hurd.
WHEN on the stage Bays bids the' eclipse advance,
Earth, sun, and moon confounding in the dance;
If critics wisely act, who damn the fool
Outraging nature and transgressing rule;
How in the world's mad dance shall we forbear
The serious censure or contemptuous sneer?
When every age and every rank is found
Treading a like absurd, unnatural round;
A round that rules not only forms of state,
But governs all the affairs of all the great.
Look o'er the military list, you'll find
The supple coward, whose ignoble mind
With slavish sufferance joins the favourite's side,
Watching his smiles, and bending to his pride,
Rise o'er the brave man's head, and snatch the place His scorn'd but modest worth was form'd to grace. Nay, when we groan distemper'd with our pain, And the fierce fever boils in every vein,
Proud to the very confines of the grave,
By the long wig we judge the skill to save.
Or what avails in Warburton to find
The power of genius, soul of science join'd?
The sacred mitre dignifies his brows
Who lowest to the unletter'd courtier bows.
Too just to flatter, and too brave to lie,
From such a world the sons of Virtue fly:
Yet, bless'd with innocence, how few can find
What to supply the mighty void of mind!
Becalm'd, and wanting oars, they ask the gale
Of others' breath to swell the flagging sail;
Or, without pilot their light bark to guide,
Float at the mercy of each varying tide.
O, teach us, for you know, to be alone,
And all the' advantage of retirement own!
Let us that greatest blessing learn of you,
To view ourselves, nor tremble at the view.
And let me bless you; for your friendly care
Removed me from the world, and placed me here;
And taught me, in the boiling heat of youth,
To hear the voice of reason and of truth;
Willing your friend that happiness should find
Which gilds your shades and calms your spotless
mind.
From the reflections these calm scenes allow, Much of myself and of the world I know; I know that liberty, man's greatest boast, Is in the chase of wild ambition lost; Enslaved to all the vanities of state, The passions and the follies of the great.
Nor are the great more free; their constant train Drive the fair goddess to the humble plain; Their actions closely watch'd, their words mark'd
And even their very thoughts no more their own;
Pursued by flatterers, parasites, and knaves,
What are they but the veriest slaves to slaves?
And what concludes this pageantry of life?
The axe of justice or the murdering knife.
Bribing and bribed to grasp the dazzling prize,
And labouring in their country's fall to rise;
Tarpeia's just return their treachery yields,
No golden bracelet, but the' o'erwhelming shields.
There are who free midst all their greatness live,
If the name free to that we rightly give,
Which follows (slavish term!) passion's strong gust,
The heat of appetite, and rage of lust. [chase,
For heaven's bright queen a gilded cloud they
And monsters issue from the rude embrace :
Yet the false form their ravish'd hearts adore,
Held in vain raptures by her wanton lore.
Meanwhile pale Virtue groaning on the ground,
With all her ruin'd honours scatter'd round,
Insulted lies, and with indignant shame
Blushes to see the pageant's guilty fame.
O heaven-descended Freedom! if thy voice, Assuasive yet, can fix the doubtful choice, Lead us, O, lead us to sequester'd shades, Where Reason rules, and not one lust invades ; Far from the life of vanity or care,
From grandeur, folly, passion, pride, and fear. Thou, when the wise, by contemplation led, The darksome grove or winding valley tread, Wilt join the walk, and breathe into the breast The sweet complacence of a mind at rest;
Whence purer reason, heighten'd wisdom flow,
An Hoadley's calmness, or a Seraph's glow.
There nor dependant, and by none confined,
We act the sober dictates of the mind;
There dare we give the generous smile to flow,
Not basely fashion'd from another's brow;
Or sit or walk, uncumber'd with the train
That swells the little great and meanly vain;
Our guard pure innocence and wisdom brings,
More solemn than the tedious pomp of kings.
This, this is freedom! O'er the peaceful plains
In all her glory bright the goddess reigns:
Behold her winning and majestic air!
The laws before her their firm guardians bear;
Plenty, and Peace, and Industry, and Wealth,
And sweet Content, and ever blooming Health
Attend her side; Joy sheds his smiles around;
Each Muse walks honour'd, and each Science
crown'd;
[neath Whilst pleased she views her chariot wheels beAmbition, Pride, Lust, Fortune, Fear, and Death.
Forgive a verse the love of virtue warms, Nor think these only visionary charms; You'll find them, listening to the moral strain, More than a flattering fiction of the brain. Come then, with me the heat of rapture quit; Hear sober reasoning in exchange for wit; Preach on the world; but first the text divide; Of business first, of pleasure next decide.
How can the man, whose every thought is pelf, Search his own mind and look into himself? Unheard, without, all grave reflections wait, Like humble suitors at a great man's gate; Intent on each low artifice to thrive,
Strangers to virtue and themselves they live:
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