Bliss there is none but unprecarious bliss: That is the gem: sell all, and purchase that. 970 Not gain'd with ease, nor safely loved, if gain'd? At good fortuitous draw back, and pause; And nought, but what thou givest thyself, is sure. 975 To mortals, nought immortal, but their worth. And other joys ask leave for their approach, Thou art all anarchy; a mob of joys 980 Wage war, and perish in intestine broils; 990 Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, 995 And hot as hell (which kindled the black fires) Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame. Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there are On angel-wing, descending from above; 1001 Which these, with art divine, would counter-work, But who can count her follies? she betrays thee, 1005 To think in grandeur there is something great. For works of curious art, and ancient fame, Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd, And foreign climes must cater for thy taste. Hence, what disaster!-Though the price was paid, That persecuting priest, the Turk of Rome, 1011 1015 Whose foot, (ye gods!) though cloven, must be kiss'd, 1020 1025 Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good; Our only contest, what deserves the name. Give Pleasure's name to nought but what has pass'd The' authentic seal of Reason (which, like Yorke, 1030 Demurs on what it passes) and defies The tooth of Time; when pass'd, a pleasure still; Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age, And doubly to be prized, as it promotes Our future, while it forms our present joy. 1035 Some joys the future overcast, and some Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb. 1040 That oracle will put all doubt to flight. 1045 1050 1055 It sheds, on souls susceptible of light, The glorious dawn of our eternal day. This (says Lorenzo) is the fair harangue! 1060 But can harangues blow back strong Nature's stream, Or stem the tide Heaven pushes through our veins, Themselves men make their comment on mankind, And think nought is, but what they find at home: 1066 Thus weakness to chimera turns the truth. Nothing romantic has the Muse prescribed. The mortal man, and wretched was the sight. Now see the man immortal: him, I mean, 1070 Who lives as such; whose heart, full bent on Heaven, Leans all that way, his bias to the stars. The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise His lustre more; though bright, without a foil: 1076 Observe his awful portrait, and adinire; Nor stop at wonder; imitate, and live. In a former Night. Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, Like ships in seas, while in, above the world With aspect mild, and elevated eye, 1080 Behold him seated on a mount serene, 1085 Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred and the slave 1090 A mingled mob! a wandering herd! he sees, The present all their care, the future his. When public welfare calls, or private want, They give to Fame; his bounty he conceals. Their virtues varnish Nature, his exalt. Mankind's esteem they court, and he his own. Theirs the wild chase of false felicities; 1095 His, the composed possession of the true. 1100 Alike throughout is his consistent peace, 1105 He sees with other eyes than theirs: where they Behold a sun, he spies a Deity. What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 1110 1115 And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. Another's welfare, or his right invade Their interest, like a lior lives on prey. 1125 They kindle at the shadow of a wrong; Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on Heaven, Nought but what wounds his virtue wounds his peace A cover'd heart their character defends; 1130 A cover'd heart denies him half his prais 1135 His true existence is not yet begun. And his alone triumphantly to think His glorious course was, yesterday, complete; Death then was welcome; yet life stili is sweet. 1140 But nothing charms Lorenzo like the firm Undaunted breast.-And whose is that high praise? They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, If there they show it, 'tis for glory shown; 1145 Nor will that cordial always man their hearts. A cordial his sustains, that cannot fail : By pleasure unsubdued, unbroke by pain, All bearing, ail attempting, till he fall; 1150 And when he falls, writes l'ici on his shield. From magnanimity all fear above; From nobler recompense above applause, Which owes to man's short outlook all its charms |