And read with such discernment, in the port
And figure of the man, his secret aim,
That oft we owe our safety to a skill
We could not teach, and must despair to learn.
But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop
To quadruped instructors, many a good
And useful quality, and virtue too,
Rarely exemplified among ourselves.
Attachment never to be wean'd, or chang'd
By any change of fortune; proof alike
Against unkindness, absence, and neglect;
Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
Can move or warp; and gratitude for small
And trivial favours, lasting as the life,
And glist'ning even in the dying eye.
VARIOUS EFFECTS OF PRIDE.
Or folly, vice, disease, men proud we see;
And (stranger still!) of blockheads' flattery,
Whose praise defames; as if a fool should mean,
By spitting on your face to make it clean.
Nor is't enough all hearts are swoln with Pride,
Her power is mighty, as her realm is wide.
What can she not perform? the love of Fame
Made bold Alphonsus his Creator blame;
Empedocles hurl'd down the burning steep;
And (stronger still) made Alexander weep:
Nay, it holds Delia from a second bed, [dead.
Though her lov'd lord has four half months been
This passion with a pimple have I seen Retard a cause, and give a judge the spleen.
By this inspir'd (O ne'er to be forgot!)
Some lords have learn'd to spell, and some to knot. It makes Globose a speaker in the house;
He hems, and is deliver❜d of his mouse ;
It makes dear self on well-bred tongues prevail, And I the little hero of each tale.
Sick with the love of fame, what throngs pour in, Unpeople court, and leave the senate thin? My growing subject seems but just begun, And, chariot-like, I kindle as I run.
Aid me, great Homer! with thy epic rules, To take a catalogue of British fools. Satire! had I thy Dorset's force divine, A knave or fool should perish in each line, Though for the first all Westminster should plead, And for the last all Gresham intercede.
Begin. Who first the catalogue shall grace? To quality belongs the highest place.
My lord comes forward; forward let him come!
Ye vulgar! at your peril give him room:
He stands for fame on his forefathers' feet,
By heraldry prov'd valiant or discreet.
With what a decent pride he throws his eyes
Above the man by three descents less wise!
If virtues at his noble hands you crave,
You bid him raise his fathers from the grave.
Men should press forward in Fame's glorious chase;
Nobles look backward, and so lose the race.
Let high birth triumph! what can be more great? Nothing-but merit in a low estate.
To Virtue's humblest son let none prefer
Vice, though descended from the Conqueror.
Shall men, like figures, pass for high or base,
Slight or important, only by their place?
Titles are marks of honest men, and wise;
The fool or knave, that wears a title, lies.
They that on glorious ancestors enlarge, Produce their debt instead of their discharge. Dorset! let those who proudly boast their line, Like thee in worth hereditary shine.
THE EMPTINESS of riches.
CAN gold calm passion, or make reason shine?
Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?
Wisdom to gold prefer, for 'tis much less
To make our fortune than our happiness:
That happiness which great ones often see,
With rage and wonder, in a low degree,
Themselves unbless'd. The poor are only poor;
But what are they who droop amid their store?
Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state.
The happy only are the truly great.
Peasants enjoy like appetites with kings,
And those best satisfied with cheapest things.
Could both our Indies buy but one new sense,
Our envy would be due to large expense :
Since not, those pomps, which to the great belong,
Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng,
See how they beg an alms of Flattery:
They languish! oh, support them with a lie!
A decent competence we fully taste;
It strikes our sense, and gives a constant feast:
More we perceive by dint of thought alone;
The rich must labour to possess their own,
To feel their great abundance, and request
Their humble friends to help them to be blest;
To see their treasures, hear their glory told,
And aid the wretched impotence of gold.
But some, great souls! and touch'd with warmth divine,
Give gold a price, and teach its beams to shine. All hoarded treasures they repute a load,
Nor think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd. Grand reservoirs of public happiness,
Through secret streams diffusively they bless, And, while their bounties glide, conceal'd from view,
Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too.
THE RICHES OF A POOR MAN.
OTHERS in pompous wealth their thoughts may
And I am rich in wishing none of these. [please,
For say, which happiness would you beg first,
Still to have drink, or never to have thirst?
No servants on my beck attendant stand,
Yet are my passions all at my command;
Reason within me shall sole ruler be,
And every sense shall wear her livery,
Lord of myself in chief; when they that have
More wealth, make that their lord, which is my
Yet I as well as they, with more content, [slave.
Have in myself a household government.
My intellectual soul hath there possess'd
The steward's place to govern all the rest;
When I go forth my eyes two ushers are,
And dutifully walk before me bare.
My legs run footmen by me.
My ready arms wait close on either hand:
My lips are porters to the dangerous door:
And either ear a trusty auditor.
And when abroad I go, Fancy shall be
My skilful coachman, and shall hurry me
Through Heaven and Earth, and Neptune's watery
And in a moment drive me back again. [plain,
The charge of all my cellar, first, is thine;
Thou butler art, and yeoman of my wine.
Stomach the cook, whose dishes best delight,
Because their only sauce is appetite.
My other cook Digestion, where to me,
Teeth carve, and palate will the taster be.
And the two eye-lids, when I go to sleep,
Like careful grooms my silent chamber keep.
Say then, thou man of wealth, in what degree
May thy proud fortunes overbalance me?
Thy many barks plough the rough ocean's back,
And I am never frighted with a wreck.
Thy flocks of sheep are numberless to tell,
And with one fleece I can be cloth'd as well;
Thou hast a thousand several farms to let,
And I do feed on ne'er a tenant's sweat.
Thou hast the commons to enclosure brought;
And I have fix'd a bound to my vast thought.
Thou hast thy landscapes, and the painters try
With all their skill to please thy wanton eye :
Here shadowy groves, and craggy mountains there;
Here rivers headlong fall, there springs run clear;
The Heavens' bright rays through clouds must
azure show
Circled about with Iris' gaudy bow.
And what of this? I real heavens do see,
True springs, true groves; whilst yours but sha
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