A Jox, in which our Reafon bears no part,
Is but a Sorrow tickling, ere it flings.
Let not the cooings of the World ailure thee;
Which of her lovers ever found her true?
Happy! of this bad world who little know!
And yet, we much must know her, to be SAFE.
TO KNOW the world, not Love her, is thy point;
She gives but little, nor that little, long.
There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse,
A dance of fpirits, a mere froth oʻ joy,
Our Thoughtless Agitation's idle child,
That mantles high, that fparkles, and expires,
Leav ng the foul more vapid than before.
An Animals ovation! fuch as holds
No commerce with our Reafon, but fubfifts
On juices, thro' the well-ton'd tubes, well-ft:ain'd ;
A nice machine! fcarce ever tun'd aright;
And when it jars-thy Sirens fing no more,
Thy dance is done; the Demi god is thrown
(Short apotheofis!) beneath the MAN,
In coward gloom immers'd, or fell despair
Art thou yet Dull Enough de'pair to dread,
And startle at deftruction? if thou art,
Accept a buckler, take it to the field
(A field of battle is this mortal life!)
When danger threatens, lay it on thy heart;
A fingle fentence proof against the World.
Soul, Body, Fortune! ev'ry good pertains
To one of thefe; but prize not all alike;
The goods of fortune to thy body's health,
Body to foul, ad foul submit to god.'
Would it thou build lafting happiness? do this;
Th' inverted Pyramid can never ftand.
Is this truth doubtful? it outshines the fun; Nay, the fun fhines not, but to thew us this, 1 he fingie lesson of mankind on earth.
And yet yet, what? no news! mankind is mad ;
Such mighty numbers lift against the right.
(And what can't numbers, when bewitch'd, atchieve?)
They talk themselves to fomething like belief,
That all earth's joys are their's: as Athens' fool
Grinn'd from the port, on ev'ry fail his own.
They grin; but wherefore and how long the laugh? Half ignorance, their mirth; and half, a lie;
To cheat the world, and cheat themf Ives, they fmile,
Hard either talk! the most abandon'd own,
That Others, if abandon'd, are undone:
Then, for themselves, the moment Reafon wakes,
(And Providence denies it long repose)
O how laborious is their gaiety!!
They fcarce can fwallow their ebullient fpleen,
Scarce mufter patience to fupport the farce,
And pump fad laughter, till the curtain falls.
Scarce, did I fay? fome cannot fit it out ;
Oft their own daring han 's the curtain draw,
And fhew us wHAT their joy, by their defpair,
The clotted hair! gor'd breaft! blafpheming eye! Its impious fury still alive in death!—
Shut, shut the fhocking fcene.-But heav'n denies
A cover to fuch guilt; and fo should man.
Look round Lorenzo! fee the reeking blade;
The' invenom'd phial, and the fatal ball;
The ftrangling cord, and fuffocating ftream;
The loathfome rottonefs, and foul decays
From raging riot (flower fuicides!)
And Pride in thefe, more execrable till!-
How horrid all to thought!-but horrors, thefe,
That vouch the truth; and aid my feeble fong.
Form Vice, Senfe, Fancy, no man can be bleft:
Blifs is to great, to lodge within an hour:
When an immortal being aims at blifs,
Duration is effential to the name.
O for a joy from Reason¡ joy from that,'
Which makes man, MAN; and exercis'd aright,
Will make him MORE: a bounteous joy! that gives,
And promifes; that weaves, with art divine,
The richest profpects into prefent peace:
A joy Ambitious! joy in common held
With thrones ethereal, and their greater far:
A joy high-privileg'd from chance, time, death!
A joy, which Death fhall double! Judgement, crown!
Crown'd higher, and ftill higher, at each ftage,
Thro' bleft eternity's long day; yet ftill,
Not more remote from Sorrow, than ficm HIM,
Q
Whose lavish hand, whofe love ftupenduous, pours
So much of Deity on guilty duft.
There, O my Lucia! may I meet thee there,
Where not thy prefence can improve my blifs!
Affects not this the Sages of the World?
Can nought Affect them, but what Fools them too?
Eternity, depending on an hour,
Makes Serious Thought man's wifdom, joy, and praise,
Nor need you blush (tho' fometimes your defigns
May fhun the light) at your designs on heaven;
Sole point! where Over-bafhful is your blame.
Are you not Wife?—you know you are: yet hear
One truth, amid your num'rous schemes, miflaid,
Or overlook'd or thrown afide, if seen;
Our schemes to plan by THis world, or the NEXT,
Is the fole diff'rence between wife, and fool.'
All Worthy Men will weigh you in THIS fcale;
What wonder, then, if THEY pronounce you Light?
Is 'Their esteem alone not worth your care?
Accept my fimple scheme of Common-fenfe; [own. Thus, fave your fame, and make Two worlds your The world Replies not ;-but the world Perfifts ; And puts the Caufe off to the longest day,
Planning evafions for the day of doom.
So far, at that Re-hearing, from redrefs,
They then turn Witneffes against themselves.
Hear that, Lorenzo! nor be wife to morrow.
Hafte, hafte! a man, by nature, is in hafte:
For who shall anfwer for another hour?
Tis highly prudent, to make ONE fure friend;
And that thou canst not do, this fide the skies.
Ye fons of earth! nor Willing to be more!) Since Verse you think from priestcraft somewhat free, Thus, in an age fo gay, the mufe plain truths (Truths, which, at church, you Might have heard in profe)
Has ventur'd into light; well-pleas'd the verfe
Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ;
And crown her with your welfare, not your praife.
But Praise the need not fear: I fee my fate;
And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulph,
Since many an ample Volume, mighty Tome,
Muft die; and die unwept; O thou minute,
Devoted Page! go forth among thy foes;
Go, nobly proud of martrydom for truth,
And die a double death: mankind, incens'd,
Denies thee long to live: nor fhalt thou reft,
. When thou art dead; in Stygian fhades arraign'd
By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne;
And bold blafphemer of his friend,-THE WORLD;
The WORLD, whofe legions coft him flender pay,
And Volunteers, round his banner fwaim;
Prudent, as Pruffia, in her zeal for Gaul.
• Are all, then, fools?' Lorenzo cries-Yes, all,
But fuch as hold THIS doctrine (new to thee,)
• The mother of true wifdom is the WILL;"
The nobleft Intellect, a fool without it.
World-wifdom much has done, and more may do,
In arts and fciences, in wars, and peace;
Butirt and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee,
And make thee twice a beggar at thy death.
This is the MOST indulgence can afford ;-
" Thy Wifdom all can do, But-Make the Wife,' Nor think this cenfure is fevere on thee;
Satan, thy mafter, I dare call a dunce,
CONSOLATION.
Containing among other Things 1. A Moralfurvey of the Nocturnal Heavens 11. A Night-ADDRES to the DEITY.
Humbly Infcribed to his GRACE The DUKE of NEWCASTLE,
One of His Majefty's Principal Secretaries of
State.
-Fatis Contraria Fata rependens. VIRG.
S when a traveller, a long day past
A Inapainful fearch of what he cannot find,
At night's approach, content with the next cot,
There ruminates, awhile, his labour loft;
Then chears his heart with what his fate affords,
And chants his fonnet to deceive the time,
Till the due feafon calls him to repose:
Thus I, long travell'd in the ways of
And dancing, with the reft, the giddy maze,
Where Disappoin' ment fmiles at HOPE's career;
Warn'd by the languor of life's ev'ning ray,
At length have hous'd me in an humble shed;
Where, future wand'ring banish'd from my thought,
And waiting, patient, the fweet hour of rest,
I chace the moments with a serious fong.
Song foothes our pains; and age has pains to foothe. When age, care, crime. and friends embrac'd at heart,
Torn from my bleeding breaft, and Death's dark shade, Which hovers o'er me, quench th' ethereal fire ;
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