The lofty trumpet swells the madd'ning soul: 161 And in the hardy camp and toilsome march But most too passive, when the blood runs low, In empty air; Elysium opens round. 170 A pleasing phrenzy buoys the lighten'd soul, 175 But soon your heaven is gone; a heavier gloom Shuts o'er your head: and as the thund'ring stream, Swoln o'er its banks with sudden mountain rain, Sinks from its tumult to a silent brook; 180 So, when the frantic raptures in your breast You lavish'd more than might support three days. 190 Unmans your soul, as madd'ning Pentheus felt, When baited round Citharon's cruel sides; He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend. You curse the sluggish Port; you curse the wretch, And wish that heaven from mortals had with-held 195 200 Besides it wounds you sore to recollect What follies in your loose unguarded hour 205 Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend. Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave. 210 Add that your means, your health, your parts decay; Your friends avoid you; or if one remains To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven. Despis'd, unwept you fall; who might have left 216 A sacred, cherish'd, sadly-pleasing name; How to live happiest; how avoid the pains, 220 Him even the dissolute admir'd; for he A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on, 230 And laughing could instruct. Much had he read, Much more had seen; he studied from the life, And in th' original perus'd mankind. Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life, He pitied Man: and much he pitied those 235 Whom falsely-smiling Fate has curs'd with means To dissipate their days in quest of joy. Our aim is happiness: 'tis yours, 'tis mine, He said' 'tis the pursuit of all that live; Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd. 240 But they the widest wander from the mark, Who through the flow'ry paths of saunt'ring Joy Seek this coy Goddess; that from stage to stage For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings 245 To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate Were these exhaustless, Nature would grow sick, And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly complain Let nature rest; be busy for yourself, 'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. 252 255 260 Virtue and Sense are one: and, trust me, still 265 Is sense and spirit, with humanity : 'Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds; 'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance just. 270 Knaves fain would laugh at it; some great ones dare; But at his heart the most undaunted son Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms. To noblest uses this determines wealth; This is the solid pomp of prosperous days; 275 280 Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Is the best gift of heaven: a happiness 285 That even above the smiles and frowns of fate Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth 290 But for one end, one much neglected use, Are riches worth your care: (for Nature's wants 296 To shew the virtues in their fairest light; Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast 301 Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage Sometimes declaim'd. Of right and wrong he taught Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard ; And (strange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach'd. Skill'd in the Passions, how to check their sway He knew, as far as reason can countroul The lawless pow'rs. But other cares are mine: What Passions hurt the body, what improve: 307 310 Know then, whatever cheerful and serene Supports the mind, supports the body too. Hence the most vital movement mortals feel Is hope; the balm and life-blood of the soul. It pleases, and it lasts. Indulgent heaven 315 Sent down the kind delusion, through the paths And make our happiest state no tedious thing. Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, 321 But there are Passions grateful to the breast, And yet no friends to Life: perhaps they please Or to excess, and dissipate the soul; Or while they please, torment. The stubborn Clown, The ill-tam'd Ruffian, and pale Usurer, 326 (If Love's omnipotence such hearts can mould) May safely mellow into love; and grow Refin'd, humane, and generous, if they can. 330 335 Nor court too much the Queen of charming cares. For, while the cherish'd poison in your breast 340 The generous bloom that flush'd your cheeks is fled. To sighs devoted and to tender pains, Pensive you sit, or solitary stray, 345 And waste your youth in musing. Musing first Toy'd into care your unsuspecting heart: It found a liking there, a sportful fire, And that fomented into serious love; Which musing daily strengthens and improves 350 Through all the heights of fondness and romance; And you're undone, the fatal shaft has sped, 355 360 Adds bloom to health; o'er ev'ry virtue sheds A gay, humane, and amiable grace, And brightens all the ornaments of man. But fruitless, hopeless, disappointed, rack'd 365 With jealousy, fatigu'd with hope and fear, And some have died for love; and some run mad; Some to extinguish, others to prevent, A mad devotion to one dangerous fair, 375 380 |