Up starts a palace; lo, the' obedient base
Slopes at its foot, the woods its sides embrace,
The silver Thames reflects its marble face.
Now let some whimsey, or that devil within
Which guides all those who know not what they
But give the knight(or give his lady)spleen; [mean,
'Away, away! take all your scaffolds down,
For snug's the word: my dear! we'll live in town.'
At amorous Flavio is the stocking thrown?-
That very night he longs to lie alone.

The fool whose wife elopes some thrice a quarter,
For matrimonial solace dies a martyr.
Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch,
Transform themselves so strangely as the rich?-

They change their weekly barber, weekly news,
Prefer a new japanner to their shoes,
Discharge their garrets, move their beds, and run
(They know not wither) in a chaise and one;
They hire their sculler, and when once abroad
Grow sick, and damn the climate-like a lord.
You laugh, half beau, half sloven, if I stand,
My wig all powder, and all snuff my band;
You laugh if coat and breeches strangely vary,
White gloves, and linen worthy lady Mary!
But when no prelate's lawn, with hair-shirt lin'd,
Is half so incoherent as my mind,

When (each opinion with the next at strife,
One ebb and flow of follies all my life,)

I plant, root up; I build, and then confound;
Turn round to square, and square again to round;
You never change one muscle of your face,
You think this madness but a common case;

Nor once to chancery nor to Hale apply,
Yet hang your lip to see a seam awry!
Careless how ill I with myself agree,
Kind to my dress, my figure, not to me.
Is this my guide, philosopher, and friend?
This he who loves me, and who ought to mend?
Who ought to make me (what he can, or none)
That man divine whom wisdom calls her own;
Great without title, without fortune bless'd;

Rich ev'n when plunder'd, honour'd while oppress'd;
Lov'd without youth, and follow'd without power,
At home though exil'd; free though in the Tower;
In short, that reasoning, high, immortal thing,
Just less than Jove, and much above a king;
Nay, half in Heaven-except (what's mighty odd)
A fit of vapours clouds this demigod.

BOOK I. EPISTLE VI.

TO MR. MURRAY,

(Afterwards Earl of Mansfield.)

Nos to admire, is all the art I know, To make men happy, and to keep them so.' (Plain truth, dear Murray! needs no flowers of So take it in the very words of Creech.) [speech. This vault of air, this congregated ball, Self-center'd sun, and stars that rise and fall, There are, my friend! whose philosophic eyes Look through, and trust the Ruler with his skies; To him commit the hour, the day, the year, And view this dreadful all-without a fear.

Admiré we then what earth's low entrails hold, Arabian shores, or Indian seas infold;

All the mad trade of fools and slaves for gold?

Or popularity? or stars and strings?

The mob's applauses, or the gifts of kings?
Say with what eyes we ought at courts to gaze,
And pay the great our homage of amaze?

If weak the pleasure that from these can spring,
The fear to want them is as weak a thing:
Whether we dread, or whether we desire,
In either case, believe me, we admire:
Whether we joy or grieve, the same the curse,
Surpris'd at better, or surpris'd at worse.
Thus good or bad, to one extreme betray
The' unbalanc'd mind, and snatch the man away;
For virtue's self may too much zeal be had;
The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.

Go then, and if you can, admire the state
Of beaming diamonds and reflected plate;
Procure a taste to double the surprise,
And gaze on Parian charms with learned eyes;
Be struck with bright brocade or Tyrian dye,
Our birth-day nobles' splendid livery.
If not so pleas'd, at council-board rejoice
To see their judgments hang upon thy voice;
From morn to night, at senate, rolls, and hall,
Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at all.
But wherefore all this labour, all this strife?
For fame, for riches, for a noble wife?
Shall one whom nature, learning, birth, conspir'd
To form not to admire but be admir'd,

Sigh while his Chloe, blind to wit and worth,
Weds the rich dulness of some son of earth?
Yet time ennobles or degrades each line;
It brighten'd Craggs's, and may darken thine.
And what is fame? the meanest have their day;
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away.

Grac'd as thou art with all the power of words,
So known, so honour'd, at the house of lords:
Conspicuous scene! another yet is nigh,
(More silent far) where kings and poets lie;
Where Murray (long enough his country's pride)
Shall be no more than Tully or than Hyde!

Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the stone,
Will any mortal let himself alone?

See Ward, by batter'd beaux invited over,
And desperate misery lays hold on Dover.
The case is easier in the mind's disease;
There all men may be cur'd whene'er they please.
Would ye be bless'd? despise low joys, low gains;
Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains;
Be virtuous, and be happy for your pains.

But art thou one whom new opinions sway,
One who believes as Tindal leads the way,
Who virtue and a church alike disowns,

Thinks that but words, and this but brick and stones? Fly then on all the wings of wild desire,

Admire whate'er the maddest can admire.

Is wealth thy passion? hence! from pole to pole,
Where winds can carry, or where waves can roll;
For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold,

Prevent the greedy, and outbid the bold :
Advance the golden mountain to the skies;
On the broad base of fifty thousand rise;
Add one round hundred, and (if that's not fair)
Add fifty more, and bring it to a square:
For, mark the' advantage; just so many score
Will gain a wife with half as many more,
Procure her beauty, make that beauty chaste,
And then such friends-as cannot fail to last.

A man of wealth is dubb'd a man of worth;
Venus shall give him form, and Anstis birth.
(Believe me many a German prince is worse,
Who proud of pedigree is poor of purse.)
His wealth brave Timon gloriously confounds;
Ask'd for a groat, he gives a hundred pounds;
Or if three ladies like a luckless play,
Takes the whole house upon the poet's day.
Now, in such exigencies not to need,
Upon my word you must be rich indeed:
A noble superfluity it craves,

Not for yourself, but for your fools and knaves;
Something which for your honour they may cheat,
And which it much becomes you to forget.
If wealth alone then make and keep us bless'd,
Still, still be getting; never, never rest.

But if to power and place your passion lie,
If in the pomp of life consist the joy;
Then hire a slave, or (if you will) a lord,
To do the honours, and to give the word;
Tell at your levee, as the crowds approach,
To whom to nod, whom take into your coach,
Whom honour with your hand; to make remarks,
Who rules in Cornwall, or who rules in Berks:
6 This may
be troublesome, is near the chair;
That makes three members, this can choose a may'r.'
Instructed thus, you bow, embrace, protest,
Adopt him son, or cousin, at the least,
Then turn about, and laugh at your own jest,
Or if your life be one continued treat,
If to live well means nothing but to eat;
Up, up! cries Gluttony, 'tis break of day,
Go drive the deer, and drag the finny prey: