Alas! 'tis more than (all his visions past)
Unhappy Wharton, waking, found at last!
What can they give? To dying Hopkins heirs ; 85
To Chartres, vigor; Japhet, nose and ears?
Can they, in gems bid pallid Hippia glow?
In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below?
Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail,
With all th' embroid'ry plaister'd at thy tail? 90
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife.
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat.
To some indeed Heav'n grants the happier fate,
T'enrich a bastard, or a son they hate.
Perhaps you think the poor might have their part?
Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his
The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule
That ev'ry man in want is knave or fool.
'God cannot love (says Blunt, with tearless eyes)
'The wretch he starves'--and piously denies;
But the good Bishop, with a meeker air,
Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.
Yet to be just to these poor men of pelf,
Each does but hate his neighbor as himself:
Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides
The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides. 110
B. Who suffer thus, mere Charity should own, Must act on motives pow'rful, though unknown. P. Some war, some plague, or famine, they foresee,
Some revelation hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found, 115
He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound.
What made Directors cheat in South-sea year ?
To live on ven'son when it sold so dear.
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys?
Phryne foresees a general excise.
Why She and Sappho raise that monstrous sum?
Alas! they fear a man will cost a plum.
Wise Peter sees the world's respect for gold, And therefore hopes this nation may be sold; Glorious ambition! Peter, swell thy store, And be what Rome's great Didius was before. The crown of Poland, venal twice an age, To just three millions stinted modest Gage. But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold, Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold. Congenial souls! whose life one av’rice joins, And one fate buries in th' Asturian mines. Much-injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's hate ?
A wizard told him in these words our fate :
At length corruption, like a gen'ral flood, 135
(So long by watchful ministers withstood)
Shall deluge all; and av'rice creeping on,
Spread like a low-born mist, and blot the sun;
⚫ Statesman and patriot ply alike the stocks, 'Peeress and butler share alike the box,
And judges job, and bishops bite the Town, 'And mighty dukes pack cards for half a crown: 'See Britain sunk in Lucre's sordid charms, 'And France reveng'd of Anne's and Edward's
'Twas no court-badge, great Scriv'ner! fir'd thy
Nor lordly luxury, nor city gain:
No, 'twas thy righteous end, asham'd to see
Senates degen'rate, patriots disagree,
And nobly wishing party-rage to cease,
To buy both sides, and give thy country peace. 150 เ All this is madness,' cries a sober sage: But who, my Friend, has reason in his rage? 'The ruling passion, be it what it will,
The ruling passion, conquers reason still.' Less mad the wildest whimsey we can frame 155 Than ev'n that passion, if it has no aim; For though such motives Folly you may call The folly's greater to have none at all.
Hear then the truth: 'Tis Heav'n each passion
'And diff'rent men directs to diff'rent ends. Extremes in Nature equal good produce; 161 'Extremes in Man concur to gen'ral use.' Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow? That power who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course maintain, 165
Through reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain;
Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 170
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year a reservoir, to keep and spare;
The next, a fountain, spouting through his heir,
In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst, 175
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.
Old Cotta sham'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What though (the use of barb'rous spits forgot)
His kitchen vy'd in coolness with his grot! 180
His court with nettles, moats with cresses stor❜d,
With soups unbought, and sallads, bless'd his
If Cotta liv'd on pulse, it was no more [board?
Than Bramins, saints, and sages did before;
To cram the rich was prodigal expence,
And who would take the poor from Providence?
Like some lone chartreux stands the good old hall,
Silence without, and fasts within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound,
No noontide bell invites the country round; 190
Tenants with sighs the smokeless tow'rs survey,
And turn th' unwilling steeds another way;
Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er,
Curs'd the sav'd candle, and unop'ning door;
While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate,
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.
Not so his son: he mark'd this oversight, And then mistook reverse of wrong for right. (For what to shun will no great knowledge need, But what to follow, is a task indeed!) Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise, More go to ruin fortunes, than to raise.
What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'squire, and deep divine!
Yet no mean motives this profusion draws: 205
His oxen perish in his country's cause;
'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup,
And zeal for that great house which eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked seat,
The Sylvans groan-no matter-for the fleet: 210
Next goes his wool-to clothe our valiant bands;
Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands.
To Town he comes, completes the nation's hope,
And heads the bold trainbands, and burns a pope.
And shall not Britain now reward his toils, 215
Britain, that pays her patriots with her spoils ?
In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his cause,
His thankless country leaves him to her laws.
The sense to value Riches, with the art
T'enjoy them, and the virtue to impart,
Not meanly, nor ambitiously pursu'd,
Not sunk by sloth, nor rais'd by servitude;
To balance fortune by a just expence,
Join with economy, magnificence;
|