On juices, thro' the well-ton'd tubes, well-ftrain'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 defpair.
Art thou yet dull enough defpair to dread,
And ftartle 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, and foul submit to God.'
Wouldst thou build lafting happiness? Do this;
Th' inverted pyramid can never ftand.
Is this truth doubtful? it outfhines the fun Nay, the fun fhines not, but to fhew us this, The fingle leffon 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, achieve?)
They talk themselves to fomething like belief,
That all earth's joys are theirs: 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 themfelves, they smile. Hard either talk! the most abandon'd own,
That others, if abandcn'd, are undone :
Then, for themfelves, the moment reason wakes, (And Providence denies it long repose)
O how laborious is their gaiety!
They fearce can fwallow their ebullient spleen,
Scarce mufter patience to fupport the farce,
And pump fad laughter till the curtain falls.
Scarce, did I fay? Some cannot fit it out;
Oft their own daring hands the curtain draw,
And fhew us what their joy, by their despair.
The clotted hair! gor'd breaft! blafpheming eye!
Its impious fury ftill alive in death!-
Shut, fhut the fhocking fcene-But heav'n denies
A cover to fuch guilt; and fo fhould man.
Look round, Lorenzo! fee the reeking blade,
The invenom'd phial, and the fatal ball;
The ftrangling cord, and fuffocating ftream;
The loathfome rottennefs, and foul decays
From raging riot (flower fuicides!)
And pride in these, more execrable still!—
How horrid all to thought!-but horrors, thefe,
That vouch the truth; and aid my feeble fong.
From vice, fenfe, fancy, no man can bé bless'd :
Blifs is too 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 promises; that weaves, with art divine,
The richest profpect 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! judgment crown!
Crown'd higher, and still higher, at each stage,
Thro' bleft eternity's long day, yet still,
Not more remote from forrow than from him,
Whose lavish hand, whose love flupendous, 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 fages of the world?
"Can nought affect them, but what fools them too?
Eternity, depending on an hour,
Make ferious thought man's wisdom, joy, and praise.
Nor need you blufh (though fometimes your defigns
May fhun the light) at your defigns on heaven :
Sole point! where over-bathful is your blame.
Are you not wife You know you are: yet hear
One truth, amid your num'rous fchemes, miflaid,
Or overlook'd, or thrown afide, if feen;
• Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next,
Is the fole difference 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 fcheme of common fenfe:
Thus, fave your fame, and make two worlds your own
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 haste
For who fhall anfwer for another hour?
'Tis highly prudent to make one fure friend
And that thou can't not do this fide the fkies.
Ye fons of earth! (nor willing to be more) Since verfe you think from priestcraft somewhat free, Thus, in an age fo gay, the muse plain truths (Truths, which, at church, you might have heard in profe)
Has ventur'd into light; well-pleas'd the verse
Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ;
And crown her with your welfare, not your praise.
But praise the need not fear: I fee my fate;
And head-long 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 martyrdom 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, around his banner swarm;
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 wisdom is the will;'
The nobleft intellect, a fool without it..
World-wisdom much has done, and more may do,
In arts and fciences, in wars and peace;
But art 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 wisdom all can do, but-make thee wife.'
Nor think this cenfure is fevere on thee;
Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce.
NIGHT THE NINTH AND LAST.
CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS,
I. A Moral Survey of the Nocturnal Heavens. II. A Night Addrefs to the DEITY.
One of his Majesty's principal Secretaries of State.
Fatis contraria fata rependens. VIRG.
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