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Or impotent, or, else approving, sees
The foul disorder. Senseless and deform'd,
Convulsive Anger storms at large; or, pale
And silent, settles into fell revenge.
Base Envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Desponding Fear, of feeble fancies full,
Weak and unmanly, loosens every power.
Even Love itself is bitterness of soul,
A pensive anguish pining at the heart;
Or sunk to sordid interest, feels no more
That noble wish, that never cloy'd desire,
Which, selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone
To bless the dearest object of its flame.
Hope sickens with extravagance;

Grief,

and

Of life impatient, into madness swells,
Or in dead silence wastes the weeping hours.

These, and a thousand mixed emotions more,

From everchanging views of good and ill, Form'd infinitely various, vex the mind With endless storm; whence deeply rankling, grows

The partial thought, a listless unconcern, Cold and averting from our neighbour's good, Then dark Disgust, and Hatred, minding

Wiles,

Coward Deceit, and ruffian Violence :
At last, extinct each social feeling, fell
And joyless inhumanity pervades
And petrifies the heart. Nature, disturb'd,
Is deem'd, vindictive, to have chang'd her

course.

PRIDE.

POLLOK.

PRIDE, self-adoring pride, was primal cause Of all sin past, all pain, all wo to come. Unconquerable pride! first, eldest Sin, Great fountain-head of evil! highest source, Whence flowed rebellion 'gainst the Omnipotent,

Whence hate of man to man, and all else ill. Pride at the bottom of the human heart Lay, and gave root and nourishment to all That grew above. Great ancestor of vice!

Hate, unbelief, and blasphemy of God;
Envy and slander, malice and revenge;
And murder, and deceit, and every birth,
Of damned sort, was progeny of pride.
It was the ever-moving, acting force,
The constant aim and the most thirsty wish
Of every sinner unrenewed to be
A god; in purple or in rags, to have
Himself adored. Whatever shape or form
His actions took, whatever phrase he threw
About his thoughts, or mantle o'er his life,
To be the highest was the inward cause
Of all; the purpose of the heart to be
Set up, admired, obeyed.

AMBITION.

P. FLETCHER.

NEXT brave Philotimus in post did ride, Like rising ladders was his climbing mind; His high-flown thoughts, had wings of courtly pride,

Which by foul rise to greatest height inclin'd;

His heart aspiring swell'd until it burst; But when he gain'd the top, with spite

accurst,

Down would he fling the steps by which he clamber'd first.

His head's a shop furnish'd with looms of

state:

His brain the weaver, thoughts are shuttles light,

With which, in spite of heav'n, he weaves

his fate;

Honour his web: thus works he day and night,

Till fates cut off his thread; so heapeth sins,

And plagues, nor once enjoys the place

he wins;

But where his old race ends, there his new race begins.

Ah, silly man, who dream'st that honour

stands

In ruling others, not thyself!-thy slaves Serve thee, and thou thy slaves:-in iron

bands

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Harness'd with massy steel, for fence, not
fight

His sword unseemly long he ready drew:
At sudden shine of his own armour bright
He started oft, and star'd with ghastly
hue:

Full many mischiefs follow cruell wrath;
Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous strife,
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath,
Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife,
And fretting griefe, the enemy of life:
All these, and many evils moe, haunt ire, His word: Safer, that all, than he that

The swelling splene,and frenzy raging rife,

The shaking palsey, and Saint Fraunces'

fire,

Such one was Wrath, the fifth of this ungodly tire.

FEAR.

P. FLETCHER.

NEXT to the captain coward Deilos far'd
Him right before he as his shield projected,
And following troops to back him as his
guard;

He shrieks at ev'ry danger that appears, Shaming the knightly arms he goodly bears:

nothing fears.

DOUBT.

P. FLETCHER.

WITH him went Doubt, stagg'ring with

steps unsure;

That every way and neither way inclin'd;
And fond Distrust, whom nothing could

secure:

Suspicion lean, as if he never din'd:
He keeps intelligence by thousand spies:
Argus to him bequeath'd his hundred eyes:
So waking, still he sleeps, and sleeping,
wakeful lies.

CONTRARITIES IN MAN.

YOUNG.

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such!

Who center'd in our make such strange extremes
From different natures marvellously mix'd,
Connexion exquisite of distant worlds!
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain!
Midway from nothing to the Deity!
A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt!
Though sullied and dishonour'd, still divine!
Dim miniature of greatness absolute!
An heir of glory! a frail child of dust:
Helpless immortal! insect infinite!

A worm! a god! I tremble at myself,
And in myself am lost. At home, a stranger,
Thought wanders up and down, surpris'd aghast,
And wondering at her own. How reason reels!
O what a miracle to man is man!

Triumphantly distress'd! what joy! what dread !
Alternately transported and alarm'd!

What can preserve my life, or what destroy!
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave;
Legions of angels can't confine me there.

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