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m this union of the rifing whole, Traft purpose of the human foul

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where faith, law, morals, all began, , in love of God, and love of Man. acne, hope leads from goal to goal, en till, and opens on his foul; bea'p on to faith, and unconfin'd, the blifs that fills up all the mind; by nature plants in man alone down blifs,and faith inblifs unknown. hofe dictates to no other kind in vain, but what they feek they find) prefent; fhe connects in this virtue with his greatest bliss; is own bright profpect to be blest, tageft motive to assist the rest.

e thus pufh'd to focial, to divine,

And while the Mufe now ftoops, or now afcends,
To man's low paffions, or their glorious ends,
Teach me, like thee, in various nature wife,
To fall with dignity, with temper rife;
Form'd by thy converfe, happily to fteer'
From grave to gay, from lively to fevere;
Correct with fpirit, eloquent with ease,
Intent to reafon, or polite to please.
Oh! while along the stream of time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,
Say, fhall my little bark attendant fail,
Purfue the triumph, and partake the gale?
When statesmen, heroes, kings, in duft repofe,
Whofe fons fhall blufhtheirfathers were thy foes,
Shall then this verfe to future age pretend
Thou wert my guide, philofopher, and friend?
That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art,
From founds to things, from fancy to the heart;
For wit's falfe mirror held up nature's light;
Shew'd erring pride, whatever is, is right;
That reafon, paffion, anfwer one great aim;
That true felf-love and focial are the fame.;
That virtue only makes our blifs below;
And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.

17. Moral Ejays. In Four Epifles. Pope.
To Sir Richard Temple, L. Cobham.

EPISTLE I.

YES, you defpife the man to books confin'd,
Who from his ftudy rails at human kind;
Tho' what he learns he fpeaks, and may advance
Some gen'ral maxims, or be right by chance.
The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave,
That from his cage, cries Cuckold, Whore, and
Tho' many a paflenger he rightly call, [Knave.
You hold him no Philofopher at all.

And yet the fate of all extremes is fuch,
Men may be read, as well as Books, too much.
To obfervations which ourselves we make,
We grow more partial for th' observer's fake;
To written wifdom, as another's lefs: [guefs..

to make thyneighbour'sbleffingthine. Maxims are drawn from notions, thefe from

a little for the boundless heart? dit, let thy enemies have part; the whole worlds of reafon, life, and fenfe, reclofe fyftem of benevolence: er as kinder, in whate'er degree, ght of blifs but height of charity. lovesfrom whole toparts: but human foul de from individual to the whole. ve but ferves the virtuous mind to wake, mall pebble ftirs the peaceful lake; centre mov'd, a circle straight fucceeds, er till, and ftill another spreads; 1, parents,neighbour, firft it will embrace; antry next; and next all human race; and more wide, th' o'erflowingof the mind v'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind; miles around, with boundless beauty bleft, aven beholds its image on his breast. muter of the poet, and the fong! methen, myfriend! mygenius! comealong;

There's fome peculiar in each leaf and grain,
Some unmark'd fibre, or fome varying vein;
Shall only man be taken in the grofs?
Grant but as many forts of minds as mofs :

That each from other differs, first confefs;
Next, that he varies from himself no less;
Add nature's, cuftem's, reafon's, paffion's ftrife,
And all opinion's colours caft on life.

Ourdepths who fathoms. or our fhallows finds,
Quick whirls, and thifting eddies of our minds?
On human actions reafon tho' you can,
It may be reason, but it is not man :
His principle of action once explore,
That inftant 'tis his principle no more.
Like following like, thro' creatures you diffect,
You lofe it in the moment you detect.
Yet more; the diff'rence is as great between
The optics feeing, as the objects feen.
All manners take a tincture from our own;
Or come difcolour'd thro' our paffions shown.

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Or fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies,
Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
Nor will life's ftream for obfervation stay :
It hurries all too faft to mark their way;
In vain fedate reflections we would make,
When half our knowledge we must snatch, not
Oft in the paffions' wild rotatiou toft, [take.
Our fpring of action to ourselves is loft:
Tir'd, not determin'd, to the faft we yield;
And what comes then is mafter of the field,
As the laft image of that troubled heap,
When fenfe fubfides, and fancy fports in fleep
(Tho' paft the recollection of the thought),
Becomes the ftuff of which our dream is wrough:
Something as dim to our internal view,
Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do,
True, fome are open, and to ail men known;
Others fo very clofe, they're hid from none:
(So darkness ftrikes the fenfe no lefs than light)
Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at fight;
And ev'ry child hates Shylock, tho' his foul
Still fits at fquat, and peeps not from its hole.
At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves,
All know 'tis virtue, for he thinks them knaves.
When univerfal homage Unbra pays,
All fay 'tis vice, and itch of vulgar praife.
When flatt'ry glares, all hate it in a queen,
While one there is whocharms us with his fpleen.
But thefe plain characters we rarely find:
Tho'ftrong the bent,yet quick the turns of mind:
Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole;
Or Affectations quite reverse the foul.
The dull, flat falfehood ferves for policy:
And in the cunning, truth itfelf's a lie:
Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wife:
The fool lies hid in inconfiftencies.

See the fame man, in vigour, in the gout;
Alone, in company. in place, or out;
Early at bufinefs, and at hazard late;
Mad at a fox-chace, wife at a debate;
Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball;
Friendly at Hackney, faithlefs at Whitehall.

Catius is ever moral, ever grave, Thinks, who endures a knave is next a knave, Save just at dinner-then prefers, no doubt, A rogue with venifon to faint without.

Who would not praife Patricio's high defert, His hand unftain'd, his uncorrupted heart, His comprehenfive head! all intreits weigh'd, All Europe fav'd, yet Britain not betray'd. He thanks you not, his pride is in piquette, Newmarket fame, and judgment at a bett. What made (lays Montaigne,or more fage CharOtho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon? A perjur'd prince a leaden faint revere, A godlefs regent tremble at a ftar? The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit, Faithlefs thio' piety, and dup'd thrǝ' wit? Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule, And jutt her wifeft monarch made a fool?

[ron!)

Know, God and Nature only are the fume: In inan, the judgment fhoots at flying game; A bird of palage! gone as foon as found; Now in the moon perhaps, now under ground,

In vain the fage, with retrospective eye, Wouldfromth`apparent Whatconcludethew Infer the Motive from the Deed, and fhew That what we chanc'd was what we meant t Behold! if Fortune, or a Vitreis frowns, Some plungeinbufinefs, others have their ccv To eafe the foul of one opprelive weight, This quits an Empire, that embroils a State The fame adeft complexion has impeli'd Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Fed Not always Actions thew the man; we fing Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind Perhaps Profperity becalm'd his breast, Perhaps the Wind just shifted from the Lit Not therefore humble he who feeks retreit, Pride guides his fteps, and bidshimthuntheg Who combats bravely is not therefore brave He dreads a death-bed like the meanett fave Who reasons wifely is not therefore wife; His pride in Reas'ning, not in Acting, lies

But grant that actions beft difcover man; Take the molt ftrong, and fort them as you c The few that glare, each character muit ma You balance not the many in the dark. What will you do with fuch as difagree? Supprets them or mifcall them policy? Mult then at once (the character to lave) The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knave Alas! in truth the man but chang'd his mic Perhaps was fick, in love, or had not din'd. Aik why from Britain Cefar would retreat? Cæfar himself might whisper, he was beat. Why rifk the World's great Empire for a Pun Cafar perhaps might aniwer, he was drunk. But, fage hiftorians! 'tis your talk to prove, One action Conduct; one, heroic Love.

'Tis from high life high characters are draw A Saint in Crape, is twice a Saint in Lawn: A Judge is juft, a Chanc or juiter ftill; A Gownman, learn'd; a Bishop, what you w Wife, if a Minifter; but, if a King, (thin More wife, more learn'd, more juft, more ev Court-Virtues bear, like Gems, the highest rat Born where Heav'n's influence scarce can peas

trate:

In life's low vale, the foil the Virtue's like,
They pleafe as beauties, here as wonders itrik
Tho' the fame fun with all diffutive rays
Blush in the Rofe, and in the Diamond blaze,
We prize the ftronger effort of his pow'r,
And jully fet the Gem above the Flow'r.
'Tis Education forms the common mind;
Juft as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd
Poafful and rough, your fint ion is a 'Squire
The next a Trademan, mesk, and much a
Tom itruts a Soldier, open, bold, and brave;
Will neaks a Scriv'ner, an exceeding knive:
Is he a Churchman? then he's fond of pow'rif
A Quaker? fly; a Prefbyterian ? jour;
A fort Free-thinker? all things in an hour,
Aik men's Opinions: Scoto now thall tell,
How Trade incicafes, and the world goes
well;
Strike on his Penfon, by the fitting fun,
And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.

That

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TeBooks, and Principles with Times.
the Ruling Paffion: There, alone,
conftant,and the Cunning known;
fe confiftent, and the Falfe fincere;
Praces, Women, no diffemblers here.
once found, unravels all the rest,
reet clears,and Wharton ftands confeft.
the corn and wonder of our days,
thing pasion was the Luit of Praise :
te'er could win it from the wife,
nd Tools mult like him, or he dies:
ring Senates hung on all he spoke,
thail him, Maiter of the Joke.
sfo various aim at nothing new?
ea Tully and a Wilmot too :

repentant, and his God adores
fime fpirit that he drinks and whores;
I fall around him but admire,

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the Punk applaud, and now the Friar. tech gift of nature and of art,

Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
et tames not this; it flicks to cur laft fand,
Confitent in our follies and our fins,
Here honeft Nature ends as the begins.
Old Politicians chew on wifdom paft,
And totter on in bufinefs to the laft;
As weak, as earnest; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanefb'row dancing in the gout.

Behold a rev'rend fire, who want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely preft,
By his own fon, that paffes by unbleft:
Still to his wench he crawis on knocking knees,
And envies ev'ry fparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late:
"Mercy!" cries Helluo, " mercy on my foul!
"Is there no hope?-Alas! then bring the jowl."

The frugal crone,whom praying priests attend,
Still ftrives to fave the hallow'd taper's end,
Collets her breath as ebbing life retires,
For one puff more, and in that puff expires.

"Odions! in woollen! 'twould afaintprovoke,
(Were the laft words that poor Narciffa spoke)
"No, let a charming chintz and Bruffels lace
"Wrap mycold limbs,and fhade my lifeless face:
"One would not, fure, be frightful when one's
"dead-

"

And-Betty-give this cheek a little red." The courtier Imooth, who forty years had An humble fervant to all human kind, [fhin'd Juit brought out this, when fcarce his tongue could ftir,

g nothing but an honeft heart; to all, from no one vice exempt; "If-where I'm going-I could ferve you, Sir?" i contemptible to fhun contempt: "I give and I devife" (old Euclio faid, An fill to covet gen'ral praise, And figh'd)" my lands and tenements to Ned." forfeit it a thousand ways; Your money, Sir?" My money, Sir, what all? bounty which no friend has made: "Why-if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul," Tongue,which no man can perfuade; The manor, Sir?-"the manor! hold," he cried, ath more of Wit than half mankind:"Not that, I cannot part withthat"-anddied. Thought, for Action too refin'd: To the wife his heart approves; to the very king he loves;

d outcaft of each church and state, der i Hagitious, yet not great. by Wharton broke thro' ev'ry rule? for fear the Knaves fhould call him Fool.

well known, no prodigies remain, At regular, and Wharton plain.

fearch, the wifeft may mistake, qualities for firit they take. Cline by rapine fwell'd his ftore; Czar made a noble dame a whore; The Luft, in that the Avarice

not ends; Ambition was the vice. -y Cafar, born in Scipio's days, fad, like him, by Chastity, at praife. When frugality could charm. ted turnips in the Sabin farm. toblerver eyes the builder's toil; Te miftakes the fcaffold for the pile. is one paffion man can ftrength enjoy, futa ¿'ve vigour just when they destroy,

And you, brave Cobham, to the latest breath, Shall feel your ruling paffion ftrong in death: Such in thofe moments, as in all the past, "Oh fave my country, Heaven!" fhall be your laft.

EPISTLE II.

To a Lady.

Of the Characters of Women.

NOTHING fotrue as what you once let fall,
Molt women have no characters at all."
Matter too foft a lifting mark to bear,
And beft diftinguith'd by black, brown, or fair.

How many pictures of one nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's countefs, here, in ermin'd pride,
Is there Paftora by a fountain fide.

Here Fannia, leering on her own good man;
And there a naked Leda with a fwan.
Let then the fair one beautifully cry,
In Magdalene's loofe hair and lifted eye,
Or dreit in finiles of fweet Cecilia fine,
With fiap ring angels, palms, and harps divine;
Whether

As Helluo, late dictator of the feaft,
The nofe of haut-gout, and the tip of t

Yet on plain pudding deign'd at home to
So Philomede, lect'ring all mankind,
On the foft paffion, and the tafte refin'd,
Th' addrefs, the delicacy, ftoops at once
And makes her hearty meal upon a dun

Whether the charmer finner it, or faint it,
If folly grow romantic, I muit paint it.
Come then, the colours and the ground pre-Critiqu'd your wine, and analys'd your
Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air; [pare;
Choose a firm cloud, before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of this minute.
Rufa, whofe eye quick glancing o'er the Park,
Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark,
Agrees as ill with Rufa ftudying Locke,
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty fmock;
Or Sappho at her toilet's greafy task,
With Sappho fragrant at an ev'ning mafk:
So morning infects that in muck begun,
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the fetting fun.
How foft is Silia! fearful to offend;
The frail one's advocate, the weak one's friend!
To her, Califta prov'd her conduct nice;
And good Simplicius afks of her advice.
Sudden, the ftorms 1 the raves! You tip the wink,
But fpare your cenfure; Silia does not drink.
All eyes may fee from what the change arofe;
All eyes may fee-a pimple on her nose.

Papillia, wedded to her am'rous fpark,
Sighs for the fhades-"How charming is a park!"
A park is purchas'd; but the fair he fees
All bath'd in tears-"Oh odious, odious trees!"
Ladies, like variegated tulips, fhow,
'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe;
Fine by defect, and delicately weak,
Their happy fpots their nice admirer take.
'Twas thus Calypfo once each heart alarm'd,
Aw'd without virtue, without beauty charm'd;
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her eyes;
Lefs wit than mimic, more a wit than wife;
Strange graces ftill, and stronger flights the had,
Was juft not ugly, and was just not mad;
Yet ne'er fo lure our paffion to create,
As when the touch'd the brink of all we hate.
Narciffa's nature, tolerably mild,
To make a wash, would hardly stew a child;
Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a lover's pray'r,
And paid a tradefman once to make him ftare;
Gave alms at Easter, in a Christian trim,
And made a widow happy, for a whim.
Why then declare good-nature is her fcorn,
When 'tis by that alone the can be borne?
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name?
A fool to pleasure, yet a flave to fame:
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking citron with his GraceandChartres:
Now confcience chills her,and now paffion burns,
And atheism and religion take their turns;
A very Heathen in the carnal part,
Yet ftill a fad good Chriftian at her heart.
See Sin in ftate majestically drunk;
Proud as a peerefs, prouder as a punk;
Chafte to her husband, frank to all befide,
A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
What then? let blood and body bear the fault,
Her head's untouch'd, that noble feat of thought:
Such this day's doctrine-in another fit
She fins with poets thro' pure love of wit.
What has not fir'd her bofom or her brain?
Cæfar and Tallboy, Charles and Charlema'ne.

Flavia 's a wit, has too much fenfe to
To toaft our wants and withes, is her wa
Nor alks of God, but of her stars, to giv
The mighty bleffing, "while we live, to
Then all for death, that opiate of the to
Lucretia's dagger, Rofamonda's bowl.
Say, what can caufe fuch impotence of mi
A fpark too fickle, or a spouse too kind.
Wife wretch! with pleasures too refin
With too much spirit to be e'er at eafe; [1]
With too much quicknefs ever to be tau
With too much thinking to have con
thought;

You purchafe pain with all that joy can g
And die of nothing but a rage to live.

Turn then from wits; and look on S

mate;

No afs fo meek, no ass so obftinate.
Or her that owns her faults, but never me
Because the 's honeft, and the best of frien
Or her, whofe life the church and fcandal 1
For ever in a paffion, or a pray`r.
Or he, who laughs at Hell, but (like her Gi
Cries, "Ah! how charming, if there's no
"place!"

Or who in fweet viciffitude appears
Of mirth and opium, ratafie and tears,
The daily anodyne, and nightly draught,
To kill thofe foes to fair ones, time and thou
Woman and fool are too hard things to hit
For true no-meaning puzzles more than wa

But what are these to great Atofla's mir
Scarce once herfelf, by turns all womankr
Who, with herself, or others, from her birt
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth;
Shines in expofing knaves, and painting fo
Yet is whate'er the hates and ridicules.
No thought advances, but her eddy brain
Whisks it about, and down it goes again.
Full fixty years the world has been her trade
The wifeft fool much time has ever made.
From lovelefs youth to unrespected age,
No paffion gratified, except her rage,
So much the furv ftill outran the wit,
The pleature mifs'd her, and the fcandal hi
Who breaks with her, provokes revenge fr
Hell;

But he's a bolder man who dares be well.
Her ev'ry turn with violence purfu'd,
No more a ftorm her hate than gratitude:
To that each paffion turns or foon or late;
Love, if it makes her yield muft make her h
Superiors! death! and equals! what a curie
But an inferior not dependant! worse.
Offend her, and the knows not to forgive;
Oblige her, and the 'll hate you while you

live

B

Bute, me he'll adore you then the bust
Astma le-then fall again to duft.

gerlord was all that's good and great;
Are this morning, and his will a cheat.
ge' by the means defeated of the ends,
tubb'd of pow'r, by warmth of friends,
wealth of followers! without one diftrefs
berfelf, thro' very selfishness!
cond with ev'ry granted pray'r,

with all her children, wants an heir. en defcends th' unguarded store, Cvs Heaven-directed, to the poor. For

thefe, dear Madam, to design, and, and no unerring line; ng touches, fome reflected light, bag fruke alone can hit 'em right: ould equal colours do the knack? who can paint in white and black? Chloe fare was form'd without a fpot." her then err'd not, but forgot. ev'ry pleating, ev'ry prudent part, Fat can Chloe want? She wants a heart. , behaves, and acts juft as the ought; never reach'd one gen'rous thought. tands too painful an endeavour; dwell in decencies for ever. aionable, fo unmov'd, yet to love, or to be lov'd. *ber lover pants upon her breast, the figures on an Indian chest; tea the fees her friend in deep defpair, how much a chintz exceeds mohair! Heav'n! a favour or a debt Scald cancel-but the may forget. fecret still in Chloe's ear; of Chloe's fhall you ever hear. dears the never flander'd one, ot if a thousand are undone. know if you 're alive or dead? footman put it in her head. prudent-Would you too be wife? r break your heart when Chloe dies. certain portrait may (I grant) be feen, Heaven has varnish'd out and made

Cheen:

Our bolder talents in full light difplay'd;
Your virtues open faireft in the fhade.
Bred to difguife, in public 'tis you hide;
There none diftinguish 'twixt your shame or
Weakness or delicacy; all fo nice, [pride,
That each may feem a virtue or a vice.

In men we various ruling paffions find;
In women, two almott divide the kind;
Thofe, only fix'd, they first or last obey,
The love of pleafure and the love of fway.
That, nature gives; and where the lesson
taught

a

e for ever! and defcrib'd by all and goodness, as with crown and ball. virtues, Painters gems at will, their zeal, and hide their want of fkill. bat, Artifts! who can paint or write, the naked is your true delight. of quality fo ftruts and fwells, what parts of nature it conceals: tet traits of body or of mind, ve to models of an humble kind. enberry to ftrip there's no compelling, a handmaid we must take a Helen. cer or bishop 'tis no eafy thing the man who loves his God, or king:

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I copy (or my draught would fail) bonet Mah'met, or plain Parfon Hale.

Is but to please, can pleasure seem a fault?
Experience, this; by man's oppreffion curft,
They feek the fecond not to lose the first.

Men, fome to bus nefs, fome to pleasure take,
But ev'ry woman is at heart a rake:
Men, fome to quiet, fome to public ftrife;"
But ev'ry lady would be queen for life.
Yet mark the fate of a whole fex of queens!
Pow'r all their end, but beauty all the means:
In youth they conquer with 10 wild a rage,
As leaves them fcarce a fubject in their age:
For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam;
No thought of peace or happiness at home.
But wisdom's triumph is well-tim'd retreat,
As hard a science to the fair as great!
Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless grown,
Yet hate repofe, and dread to be alone;
Worn out in public, weary ev'ry eye,
Nor leave one figh behind them when they die.

Pleasures the fex, as children birds pursue;
Still out of reach, yet never out of view;
Sure, if they catch, to fpoil the toy at most,
To covet flying, and regret when loft:
At laft, to follies youth could fcarce defend,
It grows their age's prudence to pretend;
Aham'd to own they gave delight before,
Reduc'd to feign it when they give no more:
As hags hold fabbaths, lefs for joy than spite,
So these their merry, miferable night;
Still round and round the ghosts of beauty glide,
And haunt the places where their honour died.
See how the world its veterans rewards!
A youth of frolics, an old age of cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end,
Young without lovers, old without a friend;
A fop their paffion, but their prize a fot,
Alive, ridiculous, and dead, forgot!

Ah, friend! to dazzle let the vain defign;
To raife the thought and touch the heart be thine!
That charm fhall grow, while what fatigues the

ring,

Flaunts and goes down an unregarded thing:
So when the fun's broad beam has tir'd the fight,
All mild afcends the moon's more fober light;
Serene in virgin modefty fhe fhines,
And, unobferv'd, the glaring orb declines.

Oh! bleft with temper, whofe unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day;
She who can love a fifter's charms, or hear

grant, in public, men fometimes are Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear;

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aleen in private life alone:

She who ne'er answers till a husband cools;
Or, or if the rules him, never fhews the rules:
S
Charms

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