VI. But as for poor contented me, Who must my weakness and my ignorance confefs, That this new, noble, and delightful scene Or in our judgement or our eye), That what furprizes us can only please. We often fearch contentedly the whole world round, To make fome great discovery; And fcorn it when 'tis found. Juft fo the mighty Nile has fuffer'd in its fame, That feeds the huge unequal stream. By which fome fondly boast they shall for ever live, (Whom all the charms of an ufurped wife and state, With all that power unfelt courts mankind to be great, Did with new unexperienc'd glories wait) Still wear, ftill doat, on his invifible ring? VII. Were VII. Were I to form a regular thought of Fame, I would not draw th' idea from an empty name; Although they praife the learning and the wit, The name and man by whom the book was writ, Thefe days! where e'en th' extravagance of Mens' folly, whimsies, and inconftancy, poetry And by a faint defcription makes them lefs. Then tell us what is Fame, where fhall we fearch for it? Look where exalted Virtue and Religion fit Enthron'd with heavenly Wit! Look where you fee The greatest scorn of learned vanity! (And then how much a nothing is mankind! Whose reason is weigh'd down by popular air, Who, by that, vainly talks of baffling death; And hopes to lengthen life by a transfufion of breath, Which yet whoe'er examines right will find To be an art as vain as bottling up of wind!) And when you find out thefe, believe true Fame is there, Far Far above all reward, yet to which all is due; And this, ye great unknown! is only known in you. VIII. The juggling fea-god, when by chance trepan'd A ftealing brook, and strove to creep away Vext at their follies, murmur'd in his stream; Would vanish in a pyramid of fire. This furly flippery God, when he design'd To furnish his escapes, Ne'er borrow'd more variety of fhapes Than you to please and fatisfy mankind, And feem (almoft) transform'd to water, flame, and air, So well you answer all phænomena there : Though madmen and the wits, philofophers and fools, With all that factious or enthufiaftic dotards dream, And all the incoherent jargon of the schools; Though all the fumes of fear, hope, love, and shame, Contrive to fhock your minds with many a fenfelefs doubt; Doubts where the Delphic God would grope in ignorance and night, The God of learning and of light Would want a God himself to help him out. IX. Philofophy, as it before us lies, Seems to have borrow'd fome ungrateful tafte But But always with a stronger relish of the last. For man to drefs and polish his uncourtly mind, In what mock habits have they put her fince the fall! With a huge fardingale to fwell her fuftian ftuff, Of comments and difputes, ridiculous and vain, How foon have you reftor'd her charms And rather tight than great! How fond we are to court her to our arms! How much of Heaven is in her naked looks! X. Thus the deluding Mufe oft' blinds me to her ways, And changes all to beauty, and the praise But with my own rebellious heart, And you with fatal and immortal wit conspire Cruel unknown! what is it you intend? Ah! could you, could you hope a poet for your VOL. I. C friend! Rather Rather forgive what my first transport said: May all the blood, which fhall by woman's fcorn be shed, For you (ah! did I think I e'er fhould live to fee Platonic champions, gain'd without one female wile, Which 'tis a fhame to fee how much of late And with fuch fcanty wages pay The bondage and the flavery of years. Let the vain fex dream on; the empire comes from us, And, had they common generofity, They would not use us thus. Well-though you 've rais'd her to this high degree, Ourselves are rais'd as well as the; And, fpite of all that they or you can do, "Tis pride and happiness enough to me XI. Alas, how fleeting and how vain, Is ev'n the nobler man, our learning and our wit! As at the closing of an unhappy scene Of |