But how to thee could Heaven's high will be known,
Who saw'st this coil of life, and this alone ?
This life, where oft, to rouse or to employ
Man's virtue, discords


and cares annoy, And where misfortune wounds, and passions move, Not to reward or punish, but to prove.

Think not, of yore, that virtue's secret way Escaped th' unletter'd only, and the gay ; Or that the grave, the studious, and the learn'd By instinct knew it, or by art discern'd. No: these of nature their opinions drew From what they fancied, not from what they knew : And hardly, arguing still for arguing's sake, Could end in truth, beginning in mistake. They who, with sober sense, and honest heart, View'd truth unmangled with the tools of art, Than he far better knew, who could but see Through the wild mist of whirling theory: A medium, which, as differently applied, Will darken, lessen, magnify, or hide, And, still obsequious to the sage's creed, Hide that most, from which most it disagreed. *

* * * * *

* Here follows in the MS. when it was first shewn to the Editor, a comparison of the doctrines of antient philosophy with those of the Gospel; with some keen strictures on modern infidelity and scepticism. But, in this part of the poem, so much is marked for alteration without being altered, that he cannot prevail on liimself to print it in the state in which it was left : especially as there is reason to think, that several pages of this part of the work are lost, to the amount probably of about three hundred lines : the exact amount cannot be known, as the pages of the manuscript were not numbered. The conclusion of the first book is subjoined, as it seems to be more correct, and strongly delineates a predominant feature in the Author's character.

What chance can blast our hope, what force controul,
While fix'd on heaven, and center'd in the soul !
Lo, where plague rages round, and tempests roar,
The world's meek Patriot speeds from shore to shore !
Crash the hoar dungeon's echoing bars; appear
The long dark realms of sickness and of fear ;
Down furrow'd cheeks, lank, wobegone, and wan,
Roll tears of blessing on the friend of man;
Hangs on the cold pale lip the lingering breath,
Blushes new vigour on the cheek of Death ;
Joy murmurs through th' applauding crowd, and free
Light smiles again, and peace and liberty.

Mortals, in heedless folly vain, bestow
The praise of virtue on the pride of show.
But there is one, whose steady eye regards
The good, whose certain meed the good rewards.

He, when in thunder speaks the trump of doom, Will not forget his Howard in the tomb.* “ Come good and faithful servant, whose relief “ Gave comfort to Despair, and joy to Grief. “ Didst thou sooth trouble, and alleviate need, “ Didst thou the naked clothe, the hungry feed, “ Visit the sick, and set the prisoner free? “ Know, what thou didst to mine thou didst to me. • Come then, thou blessed of my Father, come, “ And share his joy in thine eternal home.”

Go now, gay fool, whom earth from heaven decoys, On trivial gains intent, and trivial joys; Who reason, honour, virtue, throw'st aside, For unsubstantial pomp, and cringing pride ; Who Ay'st to fear from hope, from ease to care, To wo from joy, from triumph to despair.Go : slink a sot, a ruffian, and a coward, Go : ape duke Villars, and despise John Howard.

But nobler transports may his mind attain, Whose youthful ardour breathes this humble strain; This humble strain which, undisguised by art, Utters no thought that flows not from the heart.

* This was written several years before Mr. Howard's death.

O could this weak, though well-meant, effort throw
One ray of chearfulness on human wo;
Confute one base, one generous maxim prove,
Repress one folly, or one vice remove,
Proud of promoting peace, and easing pain,
Then would he think he had not lived in vain.

Wealth, interest, fashion, power, let others crave,
The sword of conquest wield, or ride the wave;
In other hands be empire's standard born,
The gem, the laurel, other brows adorn.
Enough for me, in unambitious lays
That I attempt to sing my Maker's praise ;
And summon those, whom earth’s vain tumults please,
From turbulence and care, to rest and ease :
Nor bid them quench their wishes but controul,
And raise from earth to heaven, from flesh to soul.
For all who thus improve, and thus aspire,
Best cherish hope, and satisfy desire :
Since He, who must perceive, and will requite,
Whose frown is misery, whose smile delight,
Has join'd with virtue good, and vice with ill,
And framed to human duty human will.


INCIPE, nympharum Solymæ chorus, incipe carmen.
Carmen grande sonans caelestia dicta requirunt.
Muscusi, fortes, silvarumque umbra puellis
Aoniis celebrata, et vani, insomnia Pindi,
Nulla placent. Mea Te canat auspice musa, sacrata
Qui labia Isaiz tetigisti numine flammæ.

Cæperat Ille, futura ruens in tempora, Vates :
Virgo concipiet ! Virgo Natum paritura !
Radice, en, surgit Jessæa ramus, et alțum
Æthera divini floris perfudit odore.

10 Olli cælestis folia ambit Spiritus, Olli Vertice concedit vis ipsa arcana Columbæ.

* Of this Translation several lines in the MS. were marked for alteration, without being altered. The whole is however so ani. mated, so harmonious, and so true to the original, that the Editor thinks it his duty not to suppress it. It was written long before the Author knew that Dr.Johnson had translated the same poem into Latin verse. The originals of this and some of the following pieces it was not thought necessary to subjoin to the Translations: Pope's poems being well known to every reader.

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