The Rape of the Lock and Other Major Writings: Poems and Other Writings (Penguin Classics)

by Alexander Pope

Man, like the gen’rous vine, supported lives;

  The strength he gains is from th’ embrace he gives.

  On their own axis as the planets run,

  Yet make at once their circle round the sun,

  So two consistent motions act the soul,

  And one regards itself, and one the whole.

  Thus God and Nature linked the gen’ral frame,

  And bade self-love and social be the same.

  Epistle IV

  ARGUMENT

  Of the Nature and State of Man with respect to Happiness I. False notions of happiness, philosophical and popular, answered from v. 19 to 76. II. It is the end of all men, and attainable by all, v. 29. God intends happiness to be equal; and to be so, it must be social, since all particular happiness depends on general, and since he governs by general, not particular laws, v. 35. As it is necessary for order, and the peace and welfare of society, that external goods should be unequal, happiness is not made to consist in these, v. 49. But, notwithstanding that inequality, the balance of happiness among mankind is kept even by Providence, by the two passions of Hope and Fear, v. 67. III. What the happiness of Individuals is, as far as is consistent with the constitution of this world; and that the good Man has here the advantage, v. 77. The error of imputing to Virtue what are only the calamities of Nature, or of Fortune, v. 93. IV. The folly of expecting that God should alter his general laws in favour of particulars, v. 111. V. That we are not judges who are good; but that, whoever they are, they must be happiest, v. 131, etc. VI. That external goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconsistent with, or destructive of virtue, v. 167. That even these can make no man happy without virtue: instanced in Riches, v. 185. Honours, v. 193. Nobility, v. 205. Greatness, v. 217. Fame, v. 237. Superior Talents, v. 259, etc. With pictures of human infelicity in men possessed of them all, v. 269, etc. VII. That Virtue only constitutes a happiness, whose object is universal, and whose prospect eternal, v. 309, etc. That the perfection of Virtue and Happiness consists in a conformity to the ORDER of PROVIDENCE here, and a Resignation to it here and hereafter, v. 327, etc.

  I. O happiness! our being’s end and aim!

  Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate’er thy name:

  That something still which prompts th’ eternal sigh,

  For which we bear to live, or dare to die;

  Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,

  O’erlooked, seen double, by the fool and wise.

  Plant of celestial seed! if dropped below,

  Say in what mortal soil thou deign’st to grow?

  Fair op’ning to some court’s propitious shine,

  10 Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?

  Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,

  Or reaped in iron harvests of the field?

  Where grows? – where grows it not? If vain our toil,

  We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

  Fixed to no spot is happiness sincere;

  ’Tis nowhere to be found, or ev’rywhere:

  ’Tis never to be bought, but always free,

  And fled from monarchs, ST JOHN! dwells with thee.

  Ask of the learn’d the way? the learn’d are blind;

  20 This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind;

  Some place the bliss in action, some in ease,

  Those call it pleasure, and contentment these;

  Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain;

  Some swelled to gods, confess ev’n virtue vain!

  Or indolent, to each extreme they fall,

  To trust in ev’rything, or doubt of all.

  Who thus define it, say they more or less

  Than this, that happiness is happiness?

  II. Take Nature’s path, and mad Opinion’s leave;

  30 All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;

  Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;

  There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;

  And mourn our various portions as we please,

  Equal is common sense and common ease.

  Remember, Man: ‘the Universal Cause

  Acts not by partial but by gen’ral laws’,

  And makes what happiness we justly call

  Subsist not in the good of one, but all.

  There’s not a blessing individuals find,

  40 But some way leans and hearkens to the kind.

  No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride,

  No caverned hermit, rests self-satisfied;

  Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend,

  Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend.

  Abstract what others feel, what others think,

  All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink:

  Each has his share, and who would more obtain,

  Shall find the pleasure pays not half the pain.

  Order is Heav’n’s first law; and, this confessed,

  50 Some are, and must be, greater than the rest,

  More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence

  That such are happier, shocks all common sense.

  Heav’n to mankind impartial we confess,

  If all are equal in their happiness;

  But mutual wants this happiness increase;

  All nature’s diff’rence keeps all nature’s peace.

  Condition, circumstance is not the thing;

  Bliss is the same in subject or in king,

  In who obtain defence, or who defend,

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

  Heav’n breathes through ev’ry member of the whole

  One common blessing, as one common soul.

  But fortune’s gifts, if each alike possessed,

  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 variously dispose,

  And these be happy called, unhappy those;

  But Heav’n’s just balance equal will appear

  70 While those are placed in hope, and these in fear:

  Not present good or ill, the joy or curse,

  But future views of better, or of worse.

  O sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise

  By mountains piled on mountains, to the skies?

  Heav’n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,

  And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.

  III. Know, all the good that individuals find,

  Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,

  Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,

  80 Lie in three words: health, peace, and competence.

  But health consists with temperance alone,

  And peace, O virtue! peace is all thy own.

  The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain;

  But these less 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 blest or cursed,

  Which meets contempt, or which compassion first?

  Count all th’ advantage prosp’rous vice attains,

  90 ’Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains;

  And grant the bad what happiness they would,

  One they must want, which is, to pass for good.

  O 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,

  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!

  100 See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust!

  See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife!

  Was this their virtue or contempt of life?

  Say, was it virtue, mor
e though Heav’n ne’er 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 sickened, and each gale was death?

  Or why so long (in life if long can be)

  110 Lent Heav’n a parent to the poor and me?

  IV. 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 improved it all.

  We just as wisely might of Heav’n complain

  That righteous Abel was destroyed by Cain,

  As that the virtuous son is ill at ease

  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 Aetna, if a sage requires,

  Forget to thunder, and recall her fires?

  On air or sea new motions be impressed,

  O 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,

  130 For Chartres’ head reserve the hanging wall?

  V. But still this world (so fitted for the knave)

  Contents us not. A better shall we have?

  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,

  140 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 Caesar – but for Titus too:

  And which more bless’d? who chained his country, say,

  Or he whose virtue sighed to lose a day?

  ‘But sometimes virtue starves while vice is fed.’

  150 What then? is the reward of virtue bread?

  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.

  But grant him riches, your demand is o’er?

  ‘No – shall the good want health, the good want pow’r?’

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

  160 ‘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?

  VI. What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,

  The soul’s calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy,

  Is virtue’s prize: a better would you fix?

  170 Then give humility a coach and six,

  Justice a conqu’ror’s sword, or truth a gown,

  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,

  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 assigned,

  180 As toys and empires, for a godlike mind.

  Rewards, that either would to virtue bring

  No joy, or be destructive of the thing:

  How oft by these at sixty are undone

  The virtues of a saint at twenty-one!

  To whom can riches give repute, or trust,

  Content, or pleasure, but the good and just?

  Judges and senates have been bought for gold;

  Esteem and love were never to be sold.

  O fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,

  190 The lover and the love of humankind,

  Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear,

  Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.

  Honour and shame from no condition rise;

  Act well your part, there all the honour lies.

  Fortune in men has some small diff’rence made:

  One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade;

  The cobbler aproned, and the parson gowned,

  The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned.

  ‘What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?’

  200 I’ll tell you, friend, a wise man and a fool.

  You’ll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,

  Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk,

  Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow:

  The rest is all but leather or prunello.

  Stuck o’er with titles, and hung round with strings,

  That, thou mayst be by kings, or whores of kings;

  Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race,

  In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece;

  But by your fathers’ worth if yours you rate,

  210 Count me those only who were good and great.

  Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood

  Has crept through scoundrels ever since the Flood,

  Go! and pretend your family is young,

  Nor own, your fathers have been fools so long.

  What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?

  Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

  Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies?

  ‘Where, but among the heroes and the wise?’

  Heroes are much the same, the point’s agreed,

  220 From Macedonia’s madman to the Swede;

  The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find

  Or make, an enemy of all mankind!

  Not one looks backward, onward still he goes,

  Yet ne’er looks forward further than his nose.

  No less alike the politic and wise;

  All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes:

  Men in their loose unguarded hours they take,

  Not that themselves are wise, but others weak.

  But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat,

  230 ’Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great:

  Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave,

  Is but the more a fool, the more a knave.

  Who noble ends by noble means obtains,

  Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,

  Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed

  Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.

  What’s fame? a fancied life in others’ breath;

  A thing beyond us, ev’n before our death:

  Just what you hear, you have; and what’s unknown

  240 The same (my lord) if Tully’s or your own.

  All that we feel of it begins and ends

  In the small circle of our foes or friends;

  To all beside as much an empty shade,

 
An Eugene living, as a Caesar dead,

  Alike or when or where, they shone or shine,

  Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.

  A wit’s a feather, and a chief a rod;

  An honest man’s the noblest work of God.

  Fame but from death a villain’s name can save,

  250 As justice tears his body from the grave;

  When what t’ oblivion better were resigned

  Is hung on high, to poison half mankind.

  All fame is foreign, but of true desert,

  Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:

  One self-approving hour whole years outweighs

  Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas,

  And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels

  Than Caesar with a senate at his heels.

  In parts superior what advantage lies?

  260 Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?

  ’Tis but to know how little can be known,

  To see all others’ faults, and feel our own.

  Condemned in business or in arts to drudge,

  Without a second, or without a judge:

  Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?

  All fear, none aid you, and few understand.

  Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view

  Above life’s weakness, and its comforts too.

  Bring then these blessings to a strict account,

  270 Make fair deductions, see to what they ’mount;

  How much of other each is sure to cost;

  How each for other oft is wholly lost;

  How inconsistent greater goods with these;

  How sometimes life is risked, and always ease:

  Think, and if still the things thy envy call,

  Say, wouldst thou be the man to whom they fall?

  To sigh for ribbons if thou art so silly,

  Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.

  Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?

  280 Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus’ wife.

  If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,

  The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!

  Or ravished with the whistling of a name,

  See Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame!

  If all, united, thy ambition call,

  From ancient story learn to scorn them all:

  There, in the rich, the honoured, famed, and great,