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And what in me seems wanting, but that I
May also in this poverty as foon
Accomplish what they did, perhaps and more!
Extol not riches then, the toyl of fools,
The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt
To Naken virtue, and abate her edge,
Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
What if with like aversion I reject
Riches and realms? yet not; for that a crown,
Golden in shew, is but a wreath of thorns,
Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and Neepless nights
To him who wears the regal diadem,
When on his shoulders each man's burden lies:
For therein stands the office of a king,
His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise,
That for the publick all this weight he bears.
Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king:
Which ev'ry wife and virtuous man attains:
And who attains not, iil aspires to rule
Cities of men or headstrong multitudes,
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless passions in him, which he serves. ,
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and from error lead
To know, and knowing worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly; this attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part:
That' of her o'er the body only reigns;
And oft by force, which to a gen’rous mind
So reigning, can be no sincere delight.
Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought
Greater and nobler done, and to lay down
Far more magnanimous, than to assume.
Riches are needless, then, both for themselves,
And for thy reason why they should be fought,
To gain a sceptre, oftest better miss’d.
So spake the Son of God; and Satan food
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinc'd
Of his weak arguing, and fallacious drift:
At length collecting all his serpent wiles,
With soothing words renew'd, him thus accosts,
I see thou know'st what is of use to know,
What best to say canst say, to do canst do:
Thy actions to thy words accord, thy words
To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
Should kings and nations, from thy mouth consult,
Thy counsel would be as the oracle
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems
On Aaron's breast, or tongue of feers old-
Infallible; or wert thou sought to deeds
That might require th’array of war, thy skill
Of conduct would be such, that all the world
Could not sustain thy prowess, or fubfist
In battle, though against thy few in arms.
These god-like virtues wherefore dost thou hide,
Affecting private life, or more obfcure
In savage wilderness ? wherefore deprive
All carth her wonder at thy acts, thy felf
The fame and glory; glory, the reward
That sole excites to high attempts, the fame
Of most erected fpirits, most temper'd pure
Aetherial, who all pleasures elfe despise,
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross,
And dignities and pow'rs all but the highest?
Thy years are ripe, and over ripe; the fon
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held
At his dispose; young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride, young Pompey quell'd
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirst of glory, bat augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more inflam'd
With glory, wept that he had liv'd so long
Inglorious: but thou yet art not too late.
To whom our Saviour calmly thus reply'd.
Thou neither doft persuade me to seck wealth,
For empire's fake, nor empire to affect
For glory's fake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people's praise, if always praise unmixt!
And what the people but a herd confus’d,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol
Things vulgar, and well weigh'd scarce worth the praise?
They praise and they admire they know not what ;
And know not whom, but as one leads the other;
And what delight to be by such extollid,
To live upon their tongues and be their talk,
Of whom to be despis'd were no small praise?
His lot who dares be singularly good.
Th’intelligent among them and the wife
Are few, and glory searce of few is rais'd.
This is true glory and renown, when God
Looking on th'earth, with approbation marks
The just man, and divulges him through heav'n
To all his angels, who with true applause
Recount his praises; thus he did to Job,
When to extend his fame through heav'n and earth
(As thou to thy reproach may'st well remember)
He ask'd thee, haft thou feen my servant Job?
Famous he was in heav'n, on earth less known;
Where glory is false glory, attributed
To things riot glorious, men not worthy of fame.
They err, who count it glorious to subdue
By conquest far and wide, to over-run
Large countries, and in field great battles win,
Great cities by assault. What do these worthies,
But rob and spuil, burn, flaughter, and enslave
Peaceable nations, neighbouring, or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy;
Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers,
Worshipp'd with temple, priest and sacrifice;
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other,
Till conqu’ror Death discover them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish vices, and deformid,
Violent or Thameful death their due reward.
But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attain'd
Without ambition, war, or violence ;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance. I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs, with faintly patience born,
Made famous in a land and times obfcure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates, (who next more memorable:)
By what he taught and suffer'd for so doing,
For truth's fake suffering death unjust, lives now
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors.
Yet if for fame and glory aught be done,
Aught suffer'd ; if young African for fame
His wasted country freed from Punic rage,
The deed becomes unprais’d, the man at least,
And loses, though but verbal, his reward.
Shall I seek glory then, as vain men seek
Oft not delery'd! I feek not mine, but his
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am.
To whom the tempter murm’ring thus reply'd.
Think not so Night of glory, therein least
Resembling thy great father: he seeks glory,
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and governs, not content in heav'n
By all his angels glorify'd, requires
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad,