CLVII.

When earth's dark maxims poison shed
On our polluted souls,

Our hearts and int'rests fly as far

Asunder as the poles.

CLVIIK

Like princes in a cottage nurs'd
Unknown their royal race,
With abject aims and sordid joys
Our grandeur we disgrace.

CLIX.

O for an Archimedes new,
Of moral pow'rs possess'd,

The world to move and quite expel
That traitor from the breast!

CLX.

No small advantage may be reap'd

From thought whence we descend;

From weighing well, and prizing, weigh'd,

Our origin and end;

CLXI.

From far above the glorious sun

To this dim scene we came;

And may, if wise, for ever bask

In great Jehovah's beam:

CLXII.

Let that bright beam on reason rous'd,
In awful lustre rise,

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Earth's giant ills are dwarf'd at once,

And all disquiet dies:

CLXIII.

Earth's glories, too, their splendor lose,

Those phantoms charm no more,

Empire's a feather for a fool,

And Indian mines are poor:

CLXIV.

Then levell'd quite, whilst yet alive,
The monarch and his slave;

Nor wait enlighten'd minds to learn

That lesson from the grave.

CLXV.

A George the Third would then be low

As Lewis in renown,

Could he not boast of glory more

Than sparkles from a crown.

CLXVI.

When, human glory rises high

As human glory can;

When, tho' the king is truly great,
Still greater is the man:

CLXVII.

The man is dead where virtue fails;
And tho' the monarch proud
In grandeur shines, his gorgeous robe
Is but a gaudy shroud.

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CLXVIII.

Wisdom! where art thou? None on earth,

Tho' gasping wealth, fame, pow'r,

But what, O Death! thro' thy approach

Is wiser ev'ry hour.

CLXIX.

Approach how swift! how unconfin'd!

Worms feast on viands rare;

Those little epicures have kings
To grace their bill of fare.

CLXX.

From kings what resignation due

To that almighty Will,

Which thrones bestows; and, when they fail,

Can throne them higher still!

CLXXI.

Who truly great? the good and brave,

The masters of a mind

The will divine to do resolv'd;

To suffer it resign'd.

CLXXII.

Madam! if that may give it weight,

The trifle you receive

Is dated from a solemn scene,

The border of the grave;

CLXXIII.

Where strongly strikes the trembling soul

Eternity's dread pow'r,

Volume IV.

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As bursting on it thro' the thin

Partition of an hour.

CLXXIV.

Hear this, V---taire! but this from me
Runs hazard of your frown:
However, spare it; ere you die,
Such thoughts will be your own.

How shocking is that modesty

Which keeps some honest men

From urging what their hearts suggest,
When brav'd by Folly's pen,

CLXXVIII,

Assaulting truths, of which in all

Is sown the sacred seed!
Our constitution's orthodox,

And closes with our creed.

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CLXXIX.

What then are they whose proud conceits
Superior wisdom boast?

Wretches, who fight their own belief,

And labour to be lost.

CLXXX.

Tho' Vice by no superior joys
Her heroes keeps in pay;

Thro' pure disinterested love

Of ruin they obey;

CLXXXI.

Strict their devotion to the wrong,

Tho' tempted by no prize;

Hard their commandments, and their creed

From Fancy's forge: gay Fancy smiles

At Reason plain and cool;

Fancy, whose curious trade it is

To make the finest fool.

CXXXIII.

V-taire! long life's the greatest curse

That mortals can receive,

When they imagine the chief end

Of living is to live:

CLXXXIV.

Quite thoughtless of their day of death,

That birth-day of their sorrow;

Young.]

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