Fortune her gifts may variously dispose,
And these be happy call'd, unhappy those ;
But Heav'n'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.

71

75

Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence. But health consists with temperance alone;

And

oh Virtue! peace peace,

is all thy own.

The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain;

81

But these less taste them, as they worse obtain.

Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,

85

Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right?
Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst,
Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
Count all th' 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 gond.

After ver. 92 in the MS.

Let sober moralists correct their speech,
No bad man's happy: he is great, or rich.

90

Oh

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, 95
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! 100
See SIDNEY bleeds amid the martial strife!
Was this their virtue, or contempt of life?
Say, was it virtue, more tho' Heav'n neʼer gave,
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?

105

I10 What

VER. 99. See FALKLAND] His genius, his learning, his integrity, his patriotism, are eloquently displayed by Cowley, as well as by Clarendon.

VER. 100. See god-like TURENNE] This great general was killed July 27, 1675, by a cannon-shot, near the village of Saltyback, in going to choose a place whereon to erect a battery.

VER. 104. Lamented DIGBY!] The Honourable Robert Digby. See Epitaphs.

VER. 107. Why drew] M. de Belsance, Bishop of Marseilles, This illustrious prelate was of a noble family in Guienne. In early life he took the vows, and belonged to a convent of Jesuits. He was made Bishop of Marseilles in 1709. In the Plague of that city, in the year 1720, he distinguished himself by his zeal and activity, being the pastor, the physician, and the magistrate of his flock, whilst that horrid calamity prevailed.

What makes all physical or moral ill?
There deviates nature, and here wanders will.
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.
We just as wisely might of Heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain,
As that the virtuous son is ill at ease

115

120

When his lewd father gave the dire disease.
Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal Cause,
Prone for his fav'rites to reverse his laws?

Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires,
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
On air or sea new motions be imprest,
Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast?
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation cease, if you go by?

Or some old temple, nodding to its fall,

For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall?
But still this world (so fitted for the knave)
Contents us not. A better shall we have?

125

130

A king

After ver. 116 in the MS.

Of ev'ry evil, since the world began,

The real source is not in God, but man.

VER. 123. Shall burning Etna, &c.] Alluding to the fate of those two great naturalists, Empedocles and Pliny, who both perished by too near an approach to Etna and Vesuvius, while they were exploring the cause of their eruptions.

A kingdom of the just then let it be:
But first consider how those just agree.
The good must merit God's peculiar care;

But who, but God, can tell us who they are?
One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own spirit fell;
Another deems him instrument of hell;
If Calvin feel Heav'n's blessing, or its rod,
This cries, there is, and that, there is no God.
What shocks one part will edify the rest,
Nor with one system can they all be blest.
The very best will variously incline,

And what rewards your virtue, punish mine.
WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.-This world, 'tis true,
Was made for Cæsar-but for Titus too:

135

140

146

And which more blest? who chain'd his country? say, Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day?

"But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed." What then? Is the reward of virtue bread?

150

That, vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil;

The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil,
The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main,
Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain.
The good man may be weak, be indolent;

Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.

After ver. 142. in some editions,

Give each a system, all must be at strife;
What diff'rent systems for a man and wife?

155

But

But

him riches, grant

demand is o'er?

your

"No-shall the good want health, the good want

pow'r ?"

Add health, and pow'r, and ev'ry earthly thing.

66

Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no king?" Nay, why external for internal giv'n?

Why is not man a god, and earth a heav'n ?
Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive
God gives enough, while he has more to give:
Immense the pow'r, immense were the demand;
Say, at what part of nature will they stand?
What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is virtue's prize: A better would you fix,
Then give humility a coach and six,
Justice a conqu'ror's sword, or truth a gown,

161

166

170

Or public spirit its great cure, a crown.

Weak, foolish man! will Heav'n reward us there
With the same trash mad mortals wish for here?
The boy and man an individual makes,

175

Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes?
Go, like the Indian, in another life

Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife:
As well as dream such trifles are assign'd,
As toys and empires, for a god-like mind.

180 Rewards,

After ver. 172. in the MS.

Say, what rewards this idle world imparts,
Or fit for searching heads or honest hearts.

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