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The young disease, that must fubdue at length,

135 Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his

So, cast and mingled with his very frame,
The Mind's disease, its RULING PASSION came;
Each vital humour which should feed the whole,
Soon flows to this, in body and in soul :

Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
As the mind opens, and its functions spread,
Imagination plies her dang'rous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.
Nature its mother, Habit is its nurse;

145 Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worse; Reason itself but gives it edge and pow'r; As Heav'n's blest beam turns vinegar more fow'r.

We, wretched subjects tho' to lawful sway, In this weak queen, some fav’rite still obey :

150 Ah! if she lend not arms, as well as rules, What can she more than tell us we are fools? Teach us to mourn our Nature, not to mend, A sharp accufer, but a helpless friend! Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade

155 The choice we make, or justify it made; Proud of an easy conquest all along, She but removes weak passions for the strong: So, when small humours gather to a gout, The doctor fancies he has driv'n them out. 160

Yes, Nature's road must ever be prefer'd; Reason is here no guide, but still a guard; 'Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow, And treat this passion more as friend than foe : A mightier Pow'r the strong direion ferds, 165 And sev'ral Men impcls to sev'ral ends : Like varying winds, by other passions tost, This drives them constant to a certain coast. Let pow'r or knowledge, gold or glory, please, Or (ost more strong than all) the love of ease ;

170 Thro’ life 'tis follow'd, ev’n at life's expence; The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence, The monk's humility, the hero's pride, All, all alike, find Reason on their fide.

Th'Eternal Art educing good from ill, Grafts on this Passion our best principle : "Tis thus the Mercury of Man is fix’d, Strong grows the Virtue with his nature mix'd; The dross cements what else were too refind, And in one int'rest body acts with mind. 180

As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care, On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear; The surest Virtues thus from Paffions shoot, Wild Nature's vigor working at the root. What crops of wit and honesty appear 185 From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear! See anger, zeal and fortitude fupply; Ev’n av'rics, prudence; sloth, philosophy;



Lust, thro' some certain strainers well refin'd,
Is gentle love, and charms all womankind;

Envy, to which th'ignoble mind's a flave,
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave;
Nor Virtue, male or female, can we name,
But what will grow on Pride, or grow on Shame.

Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride) 195
The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd:
Reason the byas turns to good from ill,
And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will,


After x 194. in the MS.

How oft, with Passion, Virtue points her Charms!.
Then shines the Hero, then the Patrict warms.
Peleus' great Son, or Brutus, who had known,
Had Lucrece been a Whore, or Helen none?
But Virtues opposite to make agree,
That, Reason! is thy task; and worthy Thee.
Hard talk, cries Bibulus, and reason weak.

-Make it a point, dear Marquess! or a pique.
Once, for a whim, persuade yourself to pay
A debt to reason, like a debt at play.
For right or wrong have mortals suffer'd more?
B- for his Prince, or * * for his Whore?
Whose self-denials nature most controul?
His, who would save a Sixpence or his Soul ?
Web for his health, a Chartreux for his Sin,
Contend they not which sooneft shall grow thin?
What we resolve, we can : but here's the fault.
We ne'er resolve to do the thing we onght.


The fiery soul abhor'd in Catiline,
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine :
The fame ambition can destroy or save,
And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.

This light and darkness in our chaos joind,
What shall divide? The God within the mind.

Extremes in Nature equal ends produce, 205 In Man they join to some mysterious use; Tho’each by turns the other's bound invade, As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade, And oft so mix, the diff'rence is too nice Where ends the Virtue, or begins the Vice.

Fools! who from hence into the notion fall, That Vice or Virtue there is none at all. If white and black blend, soften, and unite A thousand ways, is there no black or white ? Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; 215 "Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;


Ver. 204. The God within the mind.] A Platonic phrase for Conscience; and here employed with great judgment and propriety. For Conscience either fignifies, speculatively, the judgment we pass of things upon whatever principles we chance to have ; and then it is only Opinion, a very unable judge and divider. Or else it signifies, practically, the application of the eternal rule of right (received by us as the law of God) to the regulation of our actions ; and then it is properly Conscience, the God (or the law of God) within the mind, of power to divide the light from the darkness in this chaos of the passions,


Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
But where th’Extreme of Vice, was ne'er agreed :
Ask where's the North ? at York, 'tis on the Tweed;
In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there,
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
No creature owns it in the first degree,

But thinks his neighbour further gone than he ;
Ev’n those who dwell beneath its very zone,
Or never feel the rage, or never own;
What happier natures shrink at with affright,
The hard inhabitant contends is right.

Virtuous and vicious ev'ry Man must be,
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree;
The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise ;
And ev'n the best, by fits, what they despise.
'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill ;
For, Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still ;




After x 220, in the ift. Edition, followed these,

A Cheat! a Whore! who starts not at the name,

In all the Inns of Court or Drury-lane ?
After x 226. in the MS.

The Col'nel swears the Agent is a dog,
The Scriv'ner vows th’ Attorney is a rogue.
Against the Thief the Attorney loud inveighs,
For whose ten pound the County twenty pays,
The Thief damns Judges, and the Knaves of State ;
And dying, mourns small Villains hang'd by great,

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