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Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

Page 34

by Alexander Pope


  O fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,

  The lover and the love of humankind, 190

  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; 195

  One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade,

  The cobbler apron’d, and the parson gown’d;

  The friar hooded, and the monarch crown’d.

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

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

  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 prunella.

  Stuck o’er with titles, and hung round with strings, 205

  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,

  Count me those only who were good and great. 210

  Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood

  Has crept thro’ 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? 215

  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,

  From Macedonia’s madman to the Swede; 220

  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; 225

  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:

  ‘T is phrase absurd to call a villain great. 230

  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 235

  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

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

  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 Cæsar dead;

  Alike or when or where, they shone or shine, 245

  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,

  As Justice tears his body from the grave; 250

  When what t’ oblivion better were resign’d

  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 255

  Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas:

  And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels

  Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.

  In Parts superior what advantage lies?

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

  ‘T is but to know how little can be known,

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

  Condemn’d in bus’ness or in arts to drudge,

  Without a second, or without a judge.

  Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 265

  All fear, none aid you, and few understand.

  Painful preëminence! yourself to view

  Above life’s weakness, and its comforts too.

  Bring then these blessings to a strict account;

  Make fair deductions; see to what they mount; 270

  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 risk’d, and always ease.

  Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 275

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

  To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly,

  Mark how they grace Lord Umbra or Sir Billy.

  Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?

  Look but on Gripus or on Gripus’ wife. 280

  If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,

  The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!

  Or, ravish’d with the whistling of a name,

  See Cromwell damn’d to everlasting fame!

  If all united thy ambition call, 285

  From ancient story learn to scorn them all:

  There in the rich, the honour’d, famed, and great,

  See the false scale of Happiness complete!

  In hearts of Kings or arms of Queens who lay,

  How happy those to ruin, these betray. 290

  Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows,

  From dirt and sea-weed, as proud Venice rose;

  In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,

  And all that rais’d the Hero sunk the Man:

  Now Europe’s laurels on their brows behold, 295

  But stain’d with blood, or ill-exchanged for gold;

  Then see them broke with toils, or sunk in ease,

  Or infamous for plunder’d provinces.

  O wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame

  E’er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame! 300

  What greater bliss attends their close of life?

  Some greedy minion, or imperious wife,

  The trophied arches, storied halls invade,

  And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade.

  Alas! not dazzled with their noontide ray, 305

  Compute the morn and ev’ning to the day;

  The whole amount of that enormous fame,

  A tale that blends their glory with their shame!

  VII. Know then this truth (enough for man to know),

  ‘Virtue alone is happiness below;’ 310

  The only point where human bliss stands still,

  And tastes the good without the fall to ill;

  Where only merit constant pay receives,

  Is bless’d in what it takes and what it gives;

  The joy unequall’d if its end it gain, 315

  And, if it lose, attended with no pain;

  Without satiety, tho’ e’er so bless’d,

  And but more relish’d as the more distress’d:

  The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears,

  Less pleasing far than Virtue’s very tears: 320

  Good from each object, from each place acquired,

  For ever exercised, yet never tired;

  Never elated while one man’s oppress’d;

  Never dejected while another’s bless’d:

  And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 325

  Since but to wish more virtue is to gain.

  See the sole bliss Heav’n could on all bestow!

  Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:r />
  Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,

  The bad must miss, the good untaught will find: 330

  Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,

  But looks thro’ Nature up to Nature’s God;

  Pursues that chain which links th’ immense design,

  Joins Heav’n and earth, and mortal and divine;

  Sees that no being any bliss can know, 335

  But touches some above and some below;

  Learns from this union of the rising whole

  The first, last purpose of the human soul;

  And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,

  All end, in love of God and love of Man. 340

  For him alone Hope leads from goal to goal,

  And opens still and opens on his soul,

  Till lengthen’d on to faith, and unconfin’d,

  It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind.

  He sees why Nature plants in man alone 345

  Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown

  (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind

  And giv’n in vain, but what they seek they find):

  Wise is her present; she connects in this

  His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; 350

  At once his own bright prospect to be blest,

  And strongest motive to assist the rest.

  Self-love thus push’d to social, to Divine,

  Gives thee to make thy neighbour’s blessing thine.

  Is this too little for the boundless heart? 355

  Extend it, let thy enemies have part:

  Grasp the whole world of reason, life, and sense,

  In one close system of benevolence:

  Happier as kinder, in whate’er degree,

  And height of Bliss but height of Charity. 360

  God loves from whole to parts: but human soul

  Must rise from individual to the whole.

  Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,

  As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;

  The centre mov’d, a circle straight succeeds, 365

  Another still, and still another spreads;

  Friends, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace;

  His country next; and next all human race;

  Wide and more wide, th’ o’erflowings of the mind

  Take ev’ry creature in of ev’ry kind: 370

  Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest,

  And Heav’n beholds its image in his breast.

  Come then, my Friend! my Genius! come along,

  O master of the poet and the song!

  And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, 375

  To man’s low passions, or their glorious ends,

  Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise,

  To fall with dignity, with temper rise:

  Form’d by thy converse, happily to steer

  From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 380

  Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,

  Intent to reason, or polite to please.

  O! while along the stream of time thy name

  Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame,

  Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 385

  Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?

  When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose,

  Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes,

  Shall then this verse to future age pretend

  Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend? 390

  That, urged by thee, I turn’d the tuneful art

  From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart:

  For Wit’s false mirror held up Nature’s light,

  Show’d erring pride, Whatever is, is right;

  That Reason, Passion, answer one great aim; 395

  That true Self-love and Social are the same;

  That Virtue only makes our bliss below,

  And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.

  MORAL ESSAYS

  CONTENTS

  Epistle I. To Sir Richard Temple, Lord Cobham

  Epistle II. Of the Characters of Women

  Epistle III. Of the Use of Riches

  Epistle IV. Of the Use of Riches

  Epistle V. To Mr. Addison, Occasioned by His Dialogues on Medals

  Universal Prayer

  Est brevitate, opus, ut currat sententia, neu se

  Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures:

  Et sermone opus est modo tristi, sæpe jocoso,

  Defendente vicem modo rhetoris atque poetæ,

  Interdum urbani, parcentis viribus, atque

  Extenuantis eas consulto.

  HORACE.

  ADVERTISEMENT BY DR. WARBURTON

  The Essay on Man was intended to be comprised in four books: —

  The first of which the author has given us under that title in four epistles.

  The second was to have consisted of the same number: 1. Of the extent and limits of human reason. 2. Of those arts and sciences, and of the parts of them, which are useful, and therefore attainable; together with those which are unuseful, and therefore unattainable. 3. Of the nature, ends, use, and application of the different capacities of men. 4. Of the use of learning; of the science of the world; and of wit; concluding with a satire against the misapplication of them, illustrated by pictures, characters, and examples.

  The third book regarded civil regimen, or the science of politics; in which the several forms of a republic were to be examined and explained; together with the several modes of religious worship, as far forth as they affect society: between which the author always supposed there was the most interesting relation and closest connection. So that this part would have treated of civil and religious society in their full extent.

  The fourth and last book concerned private ethics, or practical morality, considered in all the circumstances, orders, professions, and stations of human life.

  The scheme of all this had been maturely digested, and communicated to Lord Bolingbroke, Dr. Swift, and one or two more; and was intended for the only work of his riper years; but was, partly through ill health, partly through discouragements from the depravity of the times; and partly on prudential and other considerations, interrupted, postponed, and lastly, in a manner, laid aside.

  But as this was the author’s favourite work, which more exactly reflected the image of his strong capacious mind, and as we can have but a very imperfect idea of it from the disjecta membra poetæ that now remain, it may not be amiss to be a little more particular concerning each of these projected books.

  The first, as it treats of man in the abstract, and considers him in general under every one of his relations, becomes the foundation, and furnishes out the subjects of the three following: so that —

  The second book was to take up again the first and second epistles of the first book, and to treat of man in his intellectual capacity at large, as has been explained above. Of this only a small part of the conclusion (Which, as we said, was to have contained a satire against the misapplication of wit and learning) may be found in the fourth book of the Dunciad; and up and down, occasionally, in the other three.

  The third book, in like manner, was to reassume the subject of the third epistle of the first, which treats of man in his social, political, and religious capacity. But this part the poet afterwards conceived might be best executed in an epic poem, as the action would make it more animated, and the fable less invidious; in which all the great principles of true and false governments and religions should be chiefly delivered in feigned examples.

  The fourth and last book was to pursue the subject of the fourth epistle of the first, and to treat of ethics, or practical morality; and would have consisted of many members, of which the four following epistles are detached portions; the two first, on the characters of men and women, being the introductory part of this concluding book.

  Epistle I. To Sir Richard Temple, Lord Cobha
m

  Of the Knowledge and Characters of Men

  ARGUMENT

  I. That it is not sufficient for this knowledge to consider Man in the abstract; Books will not serve the purpose, nor yet our own Experience singly. General maxims, unless they be formed upon both, will be but notional. Some peculiarity in every man, characteristic to himself, yet varying from himself. Difficulties arising from our own Passions, Fancies, Faculties, &c. The shortness of Life to observe in, and the uncertainty of the Principles of action in men to observe by. Our own Principle of action often hid from ourselves. Some few Characters plain, but in general confounded, dissembled, or inconsistent. The same man utterly different in different places and seasons. Unimaginable weaknesses in the greatest. Nothing constant and certain but God and Nature. No judging of the Motives from the actions; the same actions proceeding from contrary Motives, and the same Motives influencing contrary actions. II. Yet to form Characters we can only take the strongest actions of a man’s life, and try to make them agree: the utter uncertainty of this, from Nature itself, and from Policy. Characters given according to the rank of men of the world; and some reason for it. Education alters the Nature, or at least the Character, of many. Actions, Passions, Opinions, Manners, Humours, or Principles, all subject to change. No judging by Nature. III. It only remains to find (if we can) his Ruling Passion: that will certainly influence all the rest, and can reconcile the seeming or real inconsistency of all his actions. Instanced in the extraordinary character of Clodio. A caution against mistaking second qualities for first, which will destroy all possibility of the knowledge of mankind. Examples of the strength of the Ruling Passion, and its continuation to the last breath.

  YES, you despise the man to books confin’d,

  Who from his study rails at humankind;

  Tho’ what he learns he speaks, and may advance

  Some gen’ral maxims, or be right by chance.

  The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave, 5

  That from his cage cries cuckold, whore, and knave,

  Tho’ many a passenger he rightly call,

  You hold him no philosopher at all.

  And yet the fate of all extremes is such,

  Men may be read, as well as books, too much. 10

  To observations which ourselves we make,

  We grow more partial for th’ observer’s sake;

  To written wisdom, as another’s, less:

  Maxims are drawn from Notions, those from Guess.

  There ‘s some peculiar in each leaf and grain, 15

  Some unmark’d fibre, or some varying vein.

 

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