Come then, my Friend! my Genius! come along;
Oh, master of the poet and the fong!
And while the Muse now ftoops, or now afcends,
To man's low paffions or their glorious ends,
Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper rise.
Oh! while along the ftream of time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
Say, shall my little bark attendant fail,
Purfue the triumph, and partake the gale?
Shall then this Verse to future age pretend
Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend?
That, urg'd by thee, I turn'a the tuneful art
From founds to things, from fancy to the heart;
For Wit's false mirror held up Nature's light,
Shew'd erring Pride whatever is is right;
That virtue only makes our blifs below,
And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.
Effay on Man.
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