1 grieve, this nobler work moft happily be gun, So quickly and fo wonderfully carry'd on, Although we boaft our winter-fun looks bright No conqueft ever yet begun, And by one mighty hero carried to its height, And vanish'd to an empty title inthe last. The body, though gigantic, lies all cold and dead. XII. And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare, With what unhappy men fhall dare To be fucceffors to thefe great unknown, On learning's high-establish'd throne. Cenfure, and pedantry, and pride, Numberless nations, ftretching far and wide, Shall Shall (I foresee it) foon with Gothic fwarms come forth From ignorance's universal north, And with blind rage break all this peaceful go vernment: Yet fhall these traces of your wit remain, That men who liv'd and dy'd without a name, Åre the chief heroes in the facred lift of fame. O DE To the Hon. Sir. WILLIAM TEMPLE. Written at Moor-park, June 1689. IRTUE, the greateft of all monarchies, VIR It fell, and broke with its own weight you, Where none ever led the way, Nor ever fince but in defcriptions found, Like the philofopher's ftone, With rules to fearch it, yet obtain'd by none. * When the author's pofthumous pieces were reprinted in Ireland, this and the foregoing ode were omitted. II. We have too long been led astray, Too long have our misguided fouls been taught With rules from mufty morals brought, 'Tis you muft put in the way; Let us (for fhame) no more be fed With antique reliques of the dead, The gleanings of philofophy, Philofophy, the lumber of the schools, The roguery of alchymy; And we the bubbled fools Spend all our prefent life in hopes of golden rules. III. But what does our proud ign'rance learning call? We odly Plato's paradox make good, Our knowledge is but mere remembrance all ; Remembrance is our treasure and our food; Nature's fair table-book, our tender fouls, We fcrawl all o'er with old and empty rules, Stale memorandums of the fchools: For learning's mighty treasures look In that deep grave a book,. Think that she there does all her treasures hide, And that her troubled ghoft ftill haunts there fince fhe dy'd, Y 3 Confine Confine her walks to colleges and schools, Her priests, her train and followers fhow Rudeness, ill-nature, incivility, And fick with dregs of knowledge grown, company. Still caft it up IV. Curft be the wretch, nay doubly curft, To curfe our great enemy) (Which fince has feiz'd on all the reft) That knowledge forfeits all humanity; Taught us, like Spaniards, to be proud and poor, And fling our scraps before our door. = meet, |