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And makes what happiness we justly call
Subsist, not in the good of one, but all.

There's not a blessing individuals find,
But some way leans and hearkens to the kind,
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride,
No cavern'd hermit rests self-satisfy’d:
Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend,


Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend:

Abstract what others feel, what others think,

All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink:
Each has his share; and who would more obtain,
Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.

Order is heav'n's first law; and this confest,
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest,
More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence

That such are happier, shocks all common sense,

Heav'n to mankind impartial we confess,
If all are equal in their happiness :
But mutual wants this happiness increase;
All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's 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 :

Heav'n breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole
One common blessing, as one common soul.
But fortune's gifts if each alike possest,
And each were equal, must not all contest?
If then to all men happiness was meant,
God in externals could not place content.

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
And these be happy call’d, unhappy those;

But heaven's just balance equal will appear, While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear: Not present good or ill, the joy or curse,

But future views of better or of worse.

Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.

Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Liein three words, health, peace, and competence, But health consists with temperance alone; And peace, O 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,
Who risk the most, that take wrong means or right?
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curs’d,
Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
Count all the advantage prosp'rous vice attains,
'Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains :

And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd, One they must want, which is to pass

for good. Oh, blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below,

Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe!

Who sees and follows that great scheme the best,
Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest.
But fools the good alone unhappy call,
For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just!
See god-like Turenne prostrate on the dust!

See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife!
Was this their virtue, or contempt of life?
Say, was it virtue, more tho' heav'n ne'er

Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave?
Tell me, if virtue made the son expire,
Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire?
Why drew Marseilles' good Bishop purer breath,
When nature sicken'd, and each gale was death?
Or why so long (in life if long can be)
Lent heav'n a parent to the poor and me?

What makes all physical or moral ill ?.
There deviates nature, and here wanders will.

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God sends not ill, if rightly understood;
Or partial ill is universal good,

Or 'change admits, or nature lets it fall,

Short, and but rare, till man improv'd it all.

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