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More rich, more wife; but who infers from hence
That such are happier, shocks all common fenfe.
Heaven to Mankind impartial we confess,
If all are equal in their Happiness :

But mutual wants this Happiness increase;
All Nature's difference keeps all Nature's peace.
Condition, circumstance, is not the thing;
Blifs is the fame in fubject or in king,

In who obtain defence, or who defend,


In him who is, or him who finds a friend:

Heaven breathes through every member of the whole
One common bleffing, as one common foul.
But Fortune's gifts if each alike possest,
And each were equal, must not all contest?
If then to all Men Happiness was meant,
God in Externals could not place Content.
Fortune her gifts may varioufly difpofe,
And these be happy call'd, unhappy those;


After ver. 52. in the MS.




Say not, "Heaven's here profuse, there poorly faves, "And for one Monarch makes a thousand flaves." You'll find, when Causes and their Ends are known, 'Twas for the thousand Heaven has made that one. After ver. 66. in the MS.

'Tis peace of mind alone is at a stay:

The reft mad Fortune gives or takes away.
All other blifs by accident's debar'd;
But Virtue's, in the inftant, a reward;
In hardest trials operates the best,

And more is relifh'd as the more diftreft.

But Heaven's just balance equal will appear,

While thofe are plac'd in Hope, and these in Fear: 7 Not prefent good or ill, the joy or curfe,

But future views of better, or of worse.


Oh, fons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? Heaven fill with laughter the vain toil furveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and Nature meant to mere Mankind, Reafon's whole pleasure, all the joys of Sense, Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence. 80 But Health confifts with Temperance alone; And Peace, oh Virtue! Peace is all thy own. The good or bad the gifts of Fortune gain; But thefe lefs taste them, as they worse obtain,

Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,

Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right?
Of Vice or Virtue, whether bleft or curft,
Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?
Count all th' advantage profperous Vice attains,
'Tis but what Virtue flies from and difdains:
And grant the bad what happiness they would,
One they must want, which is, to pass for good,
Oh blind to truth, and God's whole fcheme below,
Who fancy Blifs to Vice, to Virtue Woe!
Who fees and follows that great scheme the best,
Best knows the bleffing, and will most be bleft.


After ver. 92. in the MS.

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





But fools, the Good alone, unhappy call,
For ills or accidents that chance to all.
See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the juft!
See godlike Turenne proftrate on the duft!
See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife!
Was this their Virtue, or contempt of Life?
Say, was it Virtue, more though Heaven ne'er gave,
Lamented Digby! funk 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 bifhop purer breath,
When Nature ficken'd, and each gale was death?
Or why fo long (in life if long can be)

Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me?

What makes all phyfical or moral ill?

There deviates Nature, and here wanders will.
God fends not ill; if rightly understood,

Or partial Ill is univerfal Good,

Or Change admits, or Nature lets it fall,
Short, and but rare, till Man improv'd it all.
We just as wifely might of Heaven complain
That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain,
As that the virtuous fon is ill at eafe

When his lewd father gave the dire difeafe.






Think we, like fome weak Prince, th' Eternal Caufe Prone for his favourites to reverfe his laws?



After ver. 116. in the MS.

Of every evil, fince the world began,
The real fource is not in God, but man.

Shall burning Ætna, if a fage requires,
Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?
On air or fea new motions be impreft,
Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast?
When the loose mountain trembles from on high,
Shall gravitation ceafe, if you go by?

Or fome old temple, nodding to its fall,


For Chartres' head referve the hanging wall?


But ftill this world (fo fitted for the knave)

Contents us not. A better fhall we have?

A kingdom of the just then let it be:
But first confider how thofe Juft agree.
The good muft merit God's peculiar care!


But who, but God, can tell us who they are?

One thinks on Calvin Heaven's own Spirit fell;
Another deems him inftrument of hell;
If Calvin feel Heaven's bleffing, or its rod,

This cries there is, and that, there is no God.


What shocks one part will edify the rest,

Nor with one fyftem 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 Cæfar-but for Titus too;



After ver. 142. in fome Editions,

Give each a System, all must be at ftrife;
What different Syftems for a man and wife?

The joke, though lively, was ill placed, and therefore ftruck out of the text.

And which more bleft? who chain'd his country, fay, Or he whofe Virtue figh'd to lose a day?

"But fometimes Virtue ftarves, while Vice is fed." What then? Is the reward of Virtue bread? That, Vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil;

when he tills the foil,



The knave deferves it,
The knave deferves 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.
But grant him riches, your demand is o'er?
"No-fhall the good want Health, the good want

Add Health and Power, and every earthly thing,
"Why bounded Power? why private? why no king?"
Nay, why external for internal given?

Why is not Man a God, and Earth a Heaven?
Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive
God gives enough, while he has more to give;
Immense the power, immenfe were the demand; 165
Say, at what part of nature will they stand?

What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,

The foul's calm fun-shine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is Virtue's prize: A better would you fix?
Then give Humility a coach and fix,

Justice a Conqueror's fword, or Truth a gown,
Or Public Spirit its great cure, a Crown.


After ver. 172. in the MS.

Say, what rewards this idle world imparts,
Or fit for fearching heads or honeft hearts.



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