See every part of that stupenduous whole,
"Whose body nature is, and God the soul;"
To one great end the general good conspire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire,
Should man through nature, solitary roam,
His will his sovereign, every where his home,
What force would guard him from the lion's jaw?
What swiftness wing him from the panther's paw?
Or should fate leave him to some safer shore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar,
Where liberal nature all her charms bestows,
Suns shine, birds sing, flowers bloom, and water flows,
Fool, dost thou think he'd revel on the store,
Absolve the care of Heaven, nor ask for more?
Though waters flow'd, flowers bloom'd, and Phoebus shone,
He'd sigh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker, on the human breast
A sense of kindred, country, man impress'd.
Though nature's works the ruling mid declare,
And well deserve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate'er misanthropy may say)
Shines, beams in man with most unclouded ray.
What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole?
Hang o'er the sun, and with the planets roll?
What boots through space's furthest bourns to roam,
If thou, O man, a stranger art at home.
Then know thyself, the human mind survey;
The use, the pleasure, will the toil repay.
Nor study only, practise what you know;
Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe.
With Plato's olive wreath the bays entwine;
Those who in study, should in practise shine.
Say, does the learned lerd of Hagley's shade,
Charm man so much by messy fountains laid,
As when arous'd he stems corruption's course,
And shakes the senate with a Tully's force?
When freedom gasp'd beneath a Cæsar's feet,
Then public virtue might to shades retreat:
But where she breaths, the least may useful be,
And freedom, Britian! still belongs to thee.
Though man's ungrateful, or though fortune frown;
Is the reward of worth a song, or crown ?