240 All that we feel of it begins and ends In the small circle of our foes or friends; to all beside as much an empty shade An Eugene living, as a cæsar dead; Alike or when, or where they shone, or shine, 245. A wits a feather, and a chief a rod; An honest mans the noblest work of God. Fame but from death a villains name can save, as justice tears his body from the grave; 250 When what t oblivion better were resignd, Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. All fame is foreign, but of true desert; Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: One self approving hour whole years out-weighs 255 Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas; And more true joy marcellus exild feels, Than Cæsar with a senate. In parts superior what advantage lies? Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
Fear, of, aging Philosophy, essay
And pretend your family is young; Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. What love can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Not all the blood of all the howards, look next on greatness; say where greatness lies. Where, but among the heroes and the wise? Heroes are much the same, the points agreed, From Macedonias madman to the Swede; 220 The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find Or make, an enemy of all mankind! Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, yet neer looks forward farther than his nose. No less alike the politic and wise; 225 All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes: Men in their loose unguarded hours they take, essay not that themselves are wise, but others weak. But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat; Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great: 230 Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, is but the more a fool, the more a knave. Who noble ends by noble means obtains, Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 235 like socrates, that man is great indeed. A fancyd life in others breath, a thing beyond us, evn before our death. Just what you hear, you have, and whats unknown The same (my lord) if Tullys, or your own.
What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl? Ill tell you, friend! A wise man and a fool. 200 youll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, or, cobler-like, the parson will be drunk, worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella. Stuck oer with titles and hung round with strings, 205 That thou mayst be by kings, or whores of kings. Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, in quiet flow from Lucrece to lucrece: But by your fathers worth if yours you rate, count me those only who were good and great. If your ancient, but ignoble statement blood Has crept thro scoundrels ever since the flood, go!
Will heavn reward us there with the same trash mad mortals wish for here? The boy and man an individual makes, 175 Yet sighst thou now for apples and for cakes? Go, like the Indian, in another life Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife, as well as dream such trifles are assignd, As toys and empires, for a god-like mind. 180 Rewards, that either would to virtue bring no joy, or be destructive of the thing: How oft by these at sixty are undone The virtues of a saint at twenty-one! To whom can riches give repute, or trust, 185 Content, or pleasure, but the good and just? Judges and senates have been bought for gold, Esteem and love were never to be sold. To think god hates the worthy mind, The lover and the love of human-kind, 190 Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, because he wants a thousand lined pounds a year. Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small diffrence mad 195 One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobler aprond, and the parson gownd, The frier hooded, and the monarch crownd.
The good man may be weak, be indolent; 155 Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. But grant him riches, your demand is oer? No, shall the good want health, the good want powr? Add health and powr, and evry earthly thing, Why bounded powr? 160 nay, why external for internal givn? Why is not man a god, and earth a heavn? Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive god gives enough, while he has more to give: Immense the powr, immense were the demand; 165 say, at what part of nature will they stand? What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, the souls calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, is virtues prize: a better would you fix? Then give humility a coach and six, 170 Justice a conqrors sword, or truth a gown, Or public spirit its great cure, a crown.
Fear of, crime, essay
130 But still this world (so fitted for the knave) Contents us not. A better shall we have? A kingdom of the just dress then let it be: But first consider how those just agree. The good must merit Gods peculiar care; 135 But who, but God, can tell us who they are? One thinks on Calvin heavns own spirit fell; Another deems him instrument of hell; If Calvin feel heavns blessing, or its rod, This cries there is, and that, there is no god. 140 What shocks one part will equal edify the rest, nor with one system can they all be blest.
The very best will variously incline, and what rewards your virtue, punish mine. Whatever is, is is world, tis true, 145 Was made for Cæsarbut for Titus too; And which more blest, who chaind his country, say, or he whose virtue sighd to lose a day? But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed. Is the reward of virtue bread? 150 That vice may merit, tis the price of toil; The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil, The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain.
Sunk thee to the grave? Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, 105 Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire? Why drew Marseilles good bishop purer breath, When nature sickend and each gale was death! Or why so long (in life if long can be) Lent heavn a parent to the poor and me? 110 What makes all physical or moral ill? There deviates nature, and here wanders will.
God sends not ill; if rightly understood, Or partial ill is universal good, Or change admits, or nature lets it fall, 115 Short, and but rare, till man improvd it all. We just as wisely might of heavn complain That righteous Abel was destroyd by cain, As that the virtuous son is ill at ease, when his lewd father gave the dire disease. 120 Think we, like some weak prince, th eternal cause Prone for his favrites to reverse his laws? Shall burning Ætna, if a sage requires, forget to thunder, and recall her fires? On air or sea new motions be imprest, 125 Oh blameless Bethel! To relieve thy breast? When the loose mountain trembles from on high Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, for Chartres head reserve the hanging wall?
Ethics Of means And Ends
Count all th advantage prosprous vice attains, tis but what virtue flies from and disdains: 90 And grant the bad what happiness they would, One they must want, which is, to pass for father's good. Oh blind to truth, and Gods whole scheme below, Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe! Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, 95 Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. But fools the good alone unhappy call, for ills or shredder accidents that chance to all. See falkland dies, the virtuous and the just! See god-like turenne prostrate on the dust! 100 see sidney bleeds amid the martial strife! Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? Say, was it virtue, more tho heavn neer gave, lamented Digby!
Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, and these be happy calld, unhappy those; But heavns just balance equal will appear, While those are placd in hope, and these in fear: 70 Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, but future views of better. Oh sons of earth! Attempt ye still to rise, by mountains pild on mountains, to the skies? Heavn still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 75 And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, reasons whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, lie in three words, health, peace, and competence 80 But health consists with temperance alone; And peace, oh virtue! Peace is all thy own. The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, 85 Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right? Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
swelld to gods, confess een. Who thus define it, say they more or less Than this, that happiness is happiness? Take natures path, and mad opinions leave; All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; 30 Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; There needs but thinking right, and meaning well; And mourn our various portions as we please, equal is common sense. Remember, man, The universal cause 35 Acts not by partial, but by genral laws; And makes what happiness we justly call Subsist not in the good of one, but all. Theres not a blessing individuals find, but some way leans and hearkens to the kind: 40 no bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride, no cavernd hermit, rests self-satisfyd: Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend, seek an admirer, or who would fix. Order is heavns first law; and this confest, some are, and must be, greater than the rest, 50 More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence That such are happier, shocks all common sense. Heavn to mankind impartial we confess, If all are equal in their happiness: But mutual wants this happiness increase; 55 All natures diffrence keeps all natures peace. Condition, circumstance is not the thing; Bliss is the same in subject or in king, In who obtain defence, or who defend, In him who is, or him who finds a friend: 60 heavn breathes thro evry member of the whole One common blessing,. But fortunes gifts if each alike possest, And each were equal, must not all contest? If then to all men happiness was meant, 65 God in externals could not place content.
Good, pleasure, ease, content! Whateer thy name: That something still which prompts th eternal sigh, for which we bear to live, or dare to die, which still so resumes near us, yet beyond us lies, 5, oer-lookd, seen double, by the fool, and wise. Plant of celestial seed! If dropt below, say, in what mortal soil thou deignst to grow? Fair opning to some courts propitious shine, or deep with dimonds in the flaming mine? 10, twind with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, Or reapd in iron harvests of the field? Where grows it not? If vain our toil, we ought to blame the culture, not the soil: Fixd to no spot is happiness sincere, 15, tis nowhere to be found, or evrywhere: Tis never to be bought, but always free, and fled from monarchs,. Ask of the learnd the way?
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