A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend!

Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade

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The choice we make, or justify it made;

Proud of an easy conquest all along,

She but removes weak passions for the strong.

So, when small humours gather to a gout,

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The doctor fancies he has driv'n them out.
Yes, nature's road must ever be preferr❜d:
Reason is here no guide, but still a guard:

"Tis her's to rectify, not overthrow,

And treat this passion more as friend than foe:

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A mightier pow'r the strong direction sends,
And sev'ral men impels to sev'ral ends.
Like varying winds, by other passions tost,
This drives them constant to a certain coast.
Let pow'r, or knowledge, gold or glory please,
Or oft (more stong than all) the love of ease;

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Through life 'tis follow'd, ev'n at life's expense;

The merchant's toil, the sages indolence,

The monk's humility, the hero's pride,

All, all alike, find reason on their side.

"Th' eternal art, educing good from ill,

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Grafts on this passion our best principle: "Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd,

Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd;
The dross cements what else were too refin❜d,

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And in one int'rest body acts with mind.

As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care, On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear; The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, Wild nature's vigour working at the root.

What crops of wit and honesty appear
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate or fear!
See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
Ev'n avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy;
Lust, through some certain strainers well refin'd,
Is gentle love, and charms all womankind:
Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave,
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave:

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Nor virtue, male or female, can we name,

But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame.

* Thus nature gives us (let it check our pride)

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The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd;
Reason the bias turns to good from ill,
And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will.
The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline,
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine.
The same ambition can destroy or save,

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And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.

VI. This light and darkness in our chaos join'd,

What shall divide? The God within the mind.
Extremes in nature equal ends produce,

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In man they join to some mysterious use;

Though each by turns the other's bounds invade,

As in some well-wrought picture, light and shade:
And oft so mixt, the diff'rence is too nice

Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice.

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Fools! who from hence into the notion fall,
That vice or virtue there is none at all.
If white and black blend, soften and unite
A thousand ways, is there no black or white?
Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain;

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"Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain. V. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,

As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

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But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed;

Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed:
In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,

At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.

No creature owns it in the first degree,

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But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he

Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone,

Or never feel the rage, or never own;
What happier natures shrink at with affright,
The hard inhabitant contends is right.

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VI. Virtuous and vicious every man must be,

Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree;

The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise,

And ev❜n the best, by fits, what they despise.

Tis but by parts we follow good or ill,

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For, vice or virtue, self directs it still;

Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal;

But Heav'n's great view is one, and that the whole :

That counter-works each folly and caprice;

That disappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice :

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That happy frailties to all ranks apply'd,

Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride,
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief,
To kings presumption, and to crowds belief:
That virtue's ends from vanity can raise,

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Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise;

And build on wants, and on defects of mind,
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.

Heav'n, forming each on other to depend,

A master, or a servant, or a friend,

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Bids each on other for assistance call,

Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all.
Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally

The common int'rest, or endear the tie.

To these we owe true friendship, love sincere,

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Each home-felt joy that life inherits here:

Yet from the same we learn, in its decline,

Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign:
Taught half by reason, half by mere decay,

To welcome death, and calmly pass away.

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Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,

Not one will change his neighbour with himself.
The learn'd is happy nature to explore,

The fool is happy that he knows no more;

The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n,

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The poor contents him with the care of Heav'n.

See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
The sot a hero, lunatic a king;

The starving chymist in his golden views

Supremely blest, the poet in his muse.

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See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend,

And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend;

See some fit passion ev'ry age supply,

Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by nature's kindly law,

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Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw:

Some livelier play-thing gives his youth delight,

A little louder, but as empty quite :
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage;
And beads and pray'r-books are the toys of age:
Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before;
Till tir'd he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er!
Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays
Those painted clouds that beautify our days;
Each want of happiness by hope supply'd;
And each vacuity of sense by pride :

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These build as fast as knowledge can destroy;
In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy;
One prospect lost, another still we gain;

And not a vanity is giv'n in vain ;

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Ev'n mean self-love becomes, by force divine,
The scale to measure others' wants by thine.
See! and confess one comfort still must rise;
"Tis this, though man's a fool, yet God is wise.

EPISTLE III.

HERE then we rest: "The universal cause
"Acts to one end, but acts by various laws."
In all the madness of superfluous health,
The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth,
Let this great truth be present night and day;
But most be present, if we preach or pray.

I. Look round our world; behold the chain of love

Combining all below and all above.

See plastic nature working to this end,

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