An EPISTLE.

An EPISTLE . By the Same . THro' the wild maze of life's still varying plan , Bliss is alone th' important task of man . All else is trifling , whether grave or gay , A Newton's labours , or an infant's play ; Whether this vainly wastes th' unheeded sun , Or those more vainly mark the course it run ; For of the two , sure smaller is the fault , To err unthinking , than to err with thought ; But if , like them , we still must trifles use , Harmless at least , like theirs , be those we chuse . Enough it is that reason blames the choice , Join not to her's the wretch's plaintive voice ; Be folly free from guilt : let foplings play , Or write , or talk , or dress , or die away . Let those , if such there be , whose giant-mind Superior tow'rs above their pigmy kind , Unaided and alone , the realms explore , Where hail and snow renew their treasur'd store . Joh , chap. xxxviii . Lo ! heav'n spreads all its stars ; let those explain , What balanc'd pow'rs the rolling orb sustain ; Nor in more humble scales , pernicious weigh Sense , justice , truth , against seducing pay . So distant regions shall employ their thought , And spotless senates here remain unbought . Well had great Charles V. Emperor of Germany , who in his retire ment amus'd himself with puppets . See Strada de bello Belgico . Charles , by early want inspir'd , With warring puppets , guiltless praise acquir'd ; So wou'd that flame have mimick fights engag'd , Which fann'd by pow'r , o'er wasted nations rag'd . Curs'd be the wretch , should all the mouths of fame Wide o'er the world his deathless deeds proclaim , Who like a baneful comet spreads his blaze , While trembling crowds in stupid wonder gaze ; Whose potent talents serve his lawless will , Which turns each virtue to a publick ill , With direful rage perverted might employs , And heav'n's great ends with heav'n's best means destroys . The praise of power is his , whose hand supplies Fire to the bold , and prudence to the wise ; While man this only real merit knows , Fitly to use the gifts which heaven bestows : If savage valour be his vaunted fame , The mountain-lion shall dispute his claim : Or , if perfidious wiles deserve applause , Thro' slighted vows , and violated laws ; The subtle plotter's title stands confess'd , Whose dagger gores the trusting tyrant's breast . And sure the villain less deserves his fate , Who stabs one wretch , than he who stabs a state . Now , mighty hero ! boast thy dear delights , The price of toilsome days and sleepless nights ; Say , canst thou aught in purple grandeur find , Sweet as the slumbers of the lowly hind ? Better are ye , the youthful and the gay , Who jocund rove thro' pleasure's flow'ry way ! Yet seek not there for bliss ! your toil were vain , ( And disappointed toil is double pain ) Tho' from the living fount your nectar-bowls Pour the soft balm upon your thirsty souls ; Tho' pure the spring , tho' every draught sincere , By pain unbitter'd , and unpall'd by fear ; Tho' all were full as high as thought can soar , Till fancy fires , and wishes crave no more : Let lovely woman artless charms display , Where truth and goodness bask in beauty's ray ; Let heavn'ly melody luxuriant float In swelling sounds , and breathe the melting note ; Let gen'rous wines enliv'ning thoughts inspire , While social converse sooths the genial fire : If aught can yet more potent charms dispense , Some stronger rapture , some sublimer sense ; Be these enjoy'd . — Then from the crowd arise Some chief , in life's full pride maturely wise . Ev'n you , my Lord , with titles , honours grac'd , And higher still by native merit plac'd ; By stinted talents to no sphere confin'd , Free ranging every province of the mind : Equally fit , a nation's weight to bear , Or shine in circles of the young and fair ; In grave debates instructed senates move , Or melt the glowing dame to mutual love . To heighten these , let conscious worth infuse Sweet ease , and smiling mirth th' inspiring Muse . Then answer , thou of ev'ry gift possess'd , Say , from thy soul , art thou sincerely blest ! To various subjects wherefore dost thou range ? Pleasure must cease , ere man can wish to change . Hast thou not quitted Flaccus' sacred lay , To talk with Bavius , or with Flavia play ; When wasted nature shuns the large expence Of deep attention to exalted sense ! Precarious bliss ! which soon , which oft must cloy , And which how few , how very few enjoy ! Say , is there aught , on which , completely blest , Fearless and full the raptur'd mind may rest ? Is there aught constant ? Or , if such there be , Can varying man be pleas'd with constancy ? Mark then what sense the blessing must employ ! The senses change , and loath accustom'd joy : Eden in vain immortal sweets displays , If the taste sickens , or our frame decays . The range of life contracted limits bound ; Yet more confin'd is pleasure's faithless round : Fair op'ning to the sight , when first we run , But , ah ! how alter'd , when again begun ! When tir'd we view the same known prospect o'er , And lagging , tread the steps we trod before . Now clogg'd with spleen , the lazy current flows , Thro' doubts , and fears , and self-augmenting woes ; Till sated , loathing , hopeless here of bliss , Some plunge to seek it into death's abyss . Of all superfluous wealth's unnumber'd stings , The sharpest is that knowledge which it brings ; Enjoyment purchas'd makes its object known , And then , alas ! each soft illusion's flown : Love's promis'd sweet , ambition's lofty scheme , The painter's image , and the poet's theme . These , in perspective fair exalted high , Attract with seeming charms the distant eye ; But when by envious Fortune plac'd too near , Mis-shapen forms , and grosser tints appear : Where lovely Venus led her beauteous train , Some fiend gigantic holds her monstrous reign ; Crowns , scepters , laurels are confus'dly strow'd , A wild , deform'd , unmeaning , heavy load . Some pleasures here with sparing hand are giv'n , That sons of earth should taste their promis'd heav'n : But what was meant to urge us to the chace , Now stops , or sideway turns our devious race : Tho' still to make the destin'd course more plain , Thick are our erring paths beset with pain ; Nor has one object equal charms to prove The fitting center of our restless love . And when the great Creator's will had join'd , Unequal pair ! the body and the mind , Lest the proud spirit should neglect her clay , He bad corporeal objects thought convey ; Each strong sensation to the soul impart Ecstatic transport or afflicting smart : By that entic'd , the useful she enjoys ; By this deterr'd , she flies whate'er destroys : Hence from the dagger's point sharp anguish flows , And the soft couch is spread with sweet repose . In something frail , tho' gen'ral this design , For some exceptions ev'ry rule confine : Yet few were they , while nature's genuine store Supply'd our wants , nor man yet sought for more ; Ere diff'rent mixtures left no form the same , And vicious habits chang'd our sickly frame . Now subtle art may gild the venom'd pill , And bait with soothing sweets destructive ill . To narrow self heav'n's impulse unconfin'd Diffusive reigns , and takes in all our kind . The smile of joy reflected joy imparts ; The wretch's groans pierce sympathizing hearts . Yet not alike are all conjoin'd with all , Nor throng with rival heat to nature's call : By varying instinct different ties are known , While love superior points to each his own ; Those next the reach of our assisting hands , And those to whom we're link'd by kindred bands ; Those who most want , and best deserve our care , In warmer streams the sacred influence share ; Ambrosial sweets her infant's lip distils , While through the mother's heart quick rapture thrills . The social fires friend , servant , neighbour claim , Which blaze collected in the patriot's flame : Hence Britain throbs superior in thy soul , Nor idly wak'st thou for the distant pole . Yet farther still the saving instinct moves , And to the future wide extends our loves ; Glows in our bosom for an unborn race , And warms us mutual to the kind embrace , For this , to man was giv'n the graceful air ; For this , was woman form'd divinely fair . But now to pleasure sensual views confin'd , Reach not the use , for which it was design'd ; To this one point our hopes , our wishes tend , And thus mistake the motive for the end . Whate'er sensations from enjoyment flow , Our erring thought to matter's force would owe ; To that ascribe our pleasures and our pains , And blindly for the cause mistake the means ; In od'rous meads the vernal gale we praise , Or dread the storm , that blows the wintry seas ; While he's unheeded , who alone can move , Claims all our fears , and merits all our love ; Alone to souls can sense and thought convey , Thro' the dark mansions of surrounding clay . Man , part from heav'n , and part from humble earth , A motley substance , takes his various birth ; Close link'd to both , he hangs in diff'rent chains , The pliant fetter length'ning as he strains . If , bravely conscious of her native fires , To the bold height his nobler frame aspires ; Near as she soars to join th' approaching skies , Our earth still lessens to her distant eyes . But if o'erpois'd she sinks , her downward course Each moment weighs , with still augmenting force ; Low and more low , the burden'd spirit bends , While weaker still each heav'nly link extends ; Till prostrate , grov'ling , fetter'd to the ground , She lies in matter's heap o'erwhelm'd and bound . Wrapt in the toils of sin , just heav'n employs What caus'd her guilt , to blast her lawless joys : Love , potent guardian of our length'ning race , Unnerves the feeble lecher's cold embrace ; And appetite , by nature giv'n to save , Sinks the gorg'd glutton in his early grave . What sends yon fleet o'er boist'rous seas to roll , Beneath the burning line , and frozen pole ? Why ravage men the hills , the plains , the woods ? Why spoil all nature , earth , and air , and floods ? Seek they some prize to help a sinking state , No ! — this must all be done , ere A Frenchman render'd famous by a most extrava gant expence in eating . Bernard eat . Tell it some untaught savage ! with surprize He asks , " How vast must be that giant's size ! " How great his pow'r , who thousands can employ ? " How great his force , who millions can destroy ? " But if the savage would , more curious , know What potent virtues from such viands flow , What blest effects they cause — consult with Sloane , Let him explain the colick , gout , and stone ! Pleasure's for use ; it differs in degree , Proportion'd to the thing's necessity . Hence various objects variously excite , And diff'rent is the date of each delight ; But when th' allotted end we once attain , Each step beyond it , is a step to pain . Nor let us murmur . — Hath not earth a store For ev'ry want ? it was not meant for more . Blest is the man , as far as earth can bless , Whose measur'd passions reach no wild excess ; Who , urg'd by nature's voice , her gifts enjoys , Nor other means , than nature's force , employs . While warm with youth the sprightly current flows , Each vivid sense with vig'rous rapture glows ; And when he droops beneath the hand of age , No vicious habit stings with fruitless rage ; Gradual , his strength , and gay sensations cease , While joys tumultuous sink in silent peace . Far other is his lot , who , not content With what the bounteous care of nature meant , With labour'd skill would all her joys dilate , Sublime their sense , and lengthen out their date ; Add , blend , compose , each various mixture try , And wind up appetite to luxury . Thus guilty art unknown desires implants , And viler arts must satisfy their wants ; When to corruption by himself betray'd , Gold blinds the slave , whom luxury has made . The hand , that form'd us , must some use intend , It gives us pow'rs proportion'd to that end ; And happiness may justly be defin'd , A full attainment of the end design'd . Virtue and wisdom this alike implies , And blest must be the virtuous and the wise . Bliss is ordain'd for all , since heav'n intends All beings should attain their destin'd ends : For this the fair idea shines confess'd To ev'ry mind , and glows in ev'ry breast . Compar'd with this , all mortal joys are vain ; Inspir'd by this , we restless onward strain . High tho' we mount , the objects mount more high , Eludes our grasp , and mingles with the sky . With nothing less th' aspiring soul's content , For nothing less her gen'rous flame was meant ; Th' unerring rule , which all our steps should guide , The certain test , by which true good is try'd . Blest when we reach it , wretched while we miss , Our joys , our sorrows prove , there must be bliss . Nor can this be some visionary dream , Where heated fancy forms the flatt'ring scheme . There sure is bliss — else , why by all desir'd ? What guileful pow'r has the mad search inspir'd ? Could accident produce in all the same , Or a vain shadow raise a real flame ? When nature in the world's distended space , Or fill'd , or almost fill'd each smaller place ; Careful in meanest matter to produce Each single motion for some certain use ; Hard was the lot of her first fav'rite , man , Faulty the scheme of his contracted span , If that alone must know an useless void , And he feel longings ne'er to be enjoy'd . That only can produce consummate joy , Which equals all the pow'rs it would employ ; Such fitting object to each talent giv'n , Earth cannot fit what was design'd for heav'n . Why then is man with gifts sublimest fraught , And active will and comprehensive thought ? For what is all this waste of mental force ? What ! for a house , a coach , a dog , a horse ? Has nature's lord inverted nature's plan ? Is man now made for what was made for man ? There must be pleasures past the reach of sense , Some nobler source must happiness dispense : Reason , arise ! and vindicate thy claim , Flash on our minds the joy-infusing flame ; Pour forth the fount of light , whose endless store Thought drinks insatiate , while it thirsts for more . And thou , seraphick flame ! who would'st inspire The prophet's voice , and wrap his soul in fire ; Ray of th' eternal beam ! who canst pervade The distant past , and future's gloomy shade ; While trembling reason tempts heav'n's dazzling height , Sublime her force , and guide her dubious flight ; Strengthen'd by thee , she bears the streaming blaze , And drinks new light from truth's immortal rays . Great , only evidence of things divine ! By thee reveal'd , the mystick wonders shine ! What puzzled sophists vainly would explore , What humbled pride in silence must adore , What plainly mark'd in heav'n's deliver'd page , Makes the taught hind more wise than Greece's sage . Yet reason proves thee in her low degree , And owns thy truths , from their necessity . Conspicuous now is happiness display'd , Possessing him for whom alone we're made . For he alone all human bliss compleats , To him alone th' expanding bosom beats ; Who fills each faculty , each pow'r can move , Exerts all thought , and deep absorbs all love ; Whose ceaseless being years would tell in vain , Whose attributes immense all bounds disdain . No sickly taste the heav'nly rapture cloys , Nor wearied senses sink in whelming joys While , rais'd above low matter's grosser frame , Pure spirit blazes in his purer flame . Such are th' immortal blessings that attend The just and good , the patriot and the friend . Nor such alone in distant prospect cheer , They taste heav'n's joys anticipated here . These in the smiling cups of pleasure flow , Or , mingling , sooth the bitter stream of woe ; These pay the loss of honours , and of place , And teach that guilt alone is true disgrace ; These with the glorious exile cheerful rove , And , far from courts , fresh bloom in Curio's grove . Long may such bliss , by such enjoy'd , attest , The greatly virtuous are the greatly blest ! Enough there are amidst yon gorgeous train , Who , wretched , prove all other joys are vain . So shines the truth these humble lines unfold , " Fair virtue ever is unwisely sold . " Too mean a price sublimest fortune brings , Too mean the wealth , the smiles , the crowns of kings For rais'd o'er these , she makes our bliss secure , The present pleasing , and the future sure . While prosp'rous guilt a sad reverse appears , And in the tasteless now , the future fears .