Like the philosopher's stone, With rules to search it, yet obtain❜d by none. We have too long been led astray; Too long have our misguided souls been taught With rules from musty morals brought; "Tis you must put us in the way; Let us (for shame!) no more be fed With antique relics of the dead, The gleanings of philosophy; Philosophy! the lumber of the schools, The roguery of alchemy; And we, the bubbled fools, Spend all our present stock in hopes of golden rules. But what does our proud ignorance learning call? Think she there does all her treasures hide, And that her troubled ghost still haunts there since she died; Confine her walks to colleges and schools; Her priests her train and followers show, Rudeness, ill-nature, incivility, And, sick with dregs of knowledge grown, Which greedily they swallow down, Still cast it up, and nauseate company. Cursed be the wretch! nay, doubly cursed, To curse our greatest enemy) Taught us, like Spaniards, to be proud and poor, Thrice happy, you have scaped this general pest! I must, like him that painted Venus' face, Virgil and Epicurus will not do, Their courting a retreat like you, Let not old Rome boast Fabius' fate; You bought it at a cheaper rate: To show it cost its price in war; War! that mad game the world so loves to play, And for it does so dearly pay; For though with loss or victory awhile Only the laurel got by peace No thunder e'er can blast: Shoots to the earth and dies; Nor ever green and flourishing 'twill last, Nor dipp'd in blood, nor widows' tears, nor orphans' cries: About the head crown'd with these bays, Like lambent fire the lightning plays; Nor, its triumphal cavalcade to grace, Make up its solemn train with death; It melts the sword of war, yet keeps it in the sheath. The wily shifts of state, those jugglers' tricks Because the cords escape their eye, Off fly the vizors and discover all. How plain I see through the deceit! The thoughts of monarchs and designs of states! How the mouse makes the mighty mountain shake! The mighty mountain labours with its birth; See how they tremble! how they quake! Out starts the little beast, and mocks their idle fears.' Then tell (dear favourite Muse!) What serpent's that which still resorts, Still lurks in palaces and courts? Take thy unwonted flight, And on the terrace light, See how she rears her head, And rolls about her dreadful eyes, To drive all virtue out, or look it dead! Made up of virtue and transparent innocence; And almost got priority of sight, He ne'er could overcome her quite; In pieces cut, the viper still did reunite; Till at last, tired with loss of time and ease, Resolved to give himself as well as country peace. Sing (beloved Muse!) the pleasures of retreat, Show the delights thy sister Nature yields; fields; Go publish o'er the plain To the loved pasture where he us'd to feed, Oft 'gainst her fountain does complain, In this new happy scene Are nobler subjects for your learned pen: More than your predecessor Adam knew ; (Whose well-compacted forms escape the light, Unpierced by the blunt rays of sight) Shall ere long grow into a tree, Whence takes it its increase, and whence its birth, Or from the sun, or from the air, or from the earth? Where all the fruitful atoms lie; |