THE ESTIMATE of LIFE, IN THREE PARTS. A POEM: John Gilbert Cooper Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.003 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. III. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 215-225. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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THE ESTIMATE of LIFE , IN THREE PARTS . A POEM : By JOHN GILBERT COOPER , Esq ;
PART I. MELPOMENE : or , The Melancholy . — Reason thus with Life ; If I lose thee , I do lose a thing , That none but fools would weep . SHAKESP . Meas . for Meas . OFFSPRING of folly and of noise , Fantastick train of airy joys , Cease , cease your vain delusive lore , And tempt my serious thoughts no more , Ye horrid forms , ye gloomy throng , Who hear the bird of midnight's song ; Thou too , DESPAIR , pale spectre , come , From the self-murd'rer's haunted tomb , While sad MELPOMENE relates , How we're afflicted by the fates . What's all this wish'd-for empire , Life ? A scene of mis'ry , care , and strife ; And make the most , that's all we have Betwixt the cradle and the grave . The being is not worth the charge , Behold the estimate at large . Our youth is silly , idle , vain ; Our age is full of care and pain ; From wealth accrues anxiety ; Contempt and want from poverty ; What trouble business has in store ! How idleness fatigues us more ! To reason , th' ignorant are blind ; The learned's eyes are too refin'd Each wit deems every wit his foe , Each fool is naturally so ; And ev'ry rank and ev'ry station Meet justly with disapprobation . Say , man , is this the boasted state , Where all is pleasant , all is great ? Alas ! another face you'll see , Take off the vail of vanity , Is aught in pleasure , aught in pow'r , Has wisdom any gift in store , To make thee stay a single hour ? Tell me , ye youthful , who approve Th' intoxicating sweets of love , What endless nameless throbs arise , What heart-felt anguish and what sighs , When jealousy has gnaw'd the root , Whence love's united branches shoot . Or grant that Hymen lights his torch , To lead you to the nuptial porch , Behold ! the long'd-for rapture o'er ! Desire begins to lose its pow'r , Then cold indifference takes place , Fruition alters quite the case ; And what before was extasy , Is scarcely now civility . Your children bring a second care ; If childless , then you want an heir ; So that in both alike you find The same perplexity of mind . Do pow'r or wealth more comfort own ? Behold yon pageant on a throne , Where silken swarms of flattery Obsequious wait his asking eye . But view within his tortur'd breast , No more the downy seat of rest , Suspicion casts her poison'd dart , And guilt , that scorpion , stings his heart . Will knowledge give us happiness ? In that , alas ! we know there's less , For every pang of mental woe Springs from the faculty , to know . Hark ! at the death-betok'ning knell Of yonder doleful passing-bell , Perhaps a friend , a father's dead , Or the lov'd partner of thy bed ! Perhaps thy only son lies there , Breathless upon the sable bier ! Say , what can ease the present grief , Can former joys afford relief ? Those former joys remember'd still , The more augment the recent ill , And where you seek for comfort , gain Additional increase of pain . What woes from mortal ills accrue ! And what from natural ensue ! Disease and casualty attend Our footsteps to the journey's end ; The cold catarrh , the gout and stone , The dropsy , jaundice , join'd in one , The raving fever's inward heat , The pale consumption's fatal sweat , And thousand more distempers roam , To drag us to th' eternal home . And when solution sets us free From prison of mortality , The soul dilated joins in air , To go , alas ! we know not where , And the poor body will become A cloud within a lonely tomb . Reflection sad ! such bodies must Return , and mingle with the dust ! But neither sense nor beauty have Defensive charms against the grave , Nor virtue's shield , nor wisdom's lore , Nor true religion's sacred pow'r ; For as that charnel's earth you see , E'en , my EUDOCIA , you will be .
PART II . CALLIOPE : or , The Chearful . Inter cuncta leges et percunctabere doctos Qua ratione queas traducere leniter aevum . HOR. Lib. 1. Ep. 18. GRIM Superstition , hence away To native night , and leave the day , Nor let thy hellish brood appear , Begot on Ignorance and Fear . Come , gentle Mirth , and Gaiety , Sweet daughter of Society ; Whilst fair CALLIOPE pursues Flights worthy of the chearful muse . O life , thou great essential good , Where ev'ry blessing's understood ! Where Plenty , Freedom , Pleasure meet , To make each fleeting moment sweet , Where moral Love and Innocence , The balm of sweet Content dispense , Where Peace expands her turtle wings , And Hope a constant requiem sings , With easy thought my breast inspire , To thee I tune the sprightly lyre . From Heav'n this emanation flows , To Heav'n again the wand'rer goes : And whilst employ'd beneath on earth , Its boon attendants , Ease and Mirth , Join'd with the Social Virtues three , And their calm parent Charity , Conduct it to the sacred plains Where Happiness terrestrial reigns . 'Tis Discontent alone destroys The harvest of our ripening joys ; Resolve to be extempt from woe , Your resolution keeps you so . Whate'er is needful man receives , Nay more superfluous Nature gives , Indulgent parent , source of bliss , Profuse of goodness to excess ! For thee 'tis , man , the zephyr blows , For thee the purple vintage flows , Each flow'r its various hue displays , The lark exalts her vernal lays , To view yon azure vault is thine , And my EUDOCIA'S form divine . Hark ! how the renovating Spring Invites the feather'd choir to sing , Spontaneous mirth and rapture glow On ev'ry shrub , and ev'ry bough , Their little airs a lesson give , They teach us mortals how to live , And well advise us whilst we can , To spend in joy the vital span . Ye gay and youthful all advance , Together knit in festive dance , See blooming HERE leads the way , For youth is Nature's holiday . If dire Misfortune should employ Her dart to wound the timely joy , Solicit Bacchus with your pray'r , No earthly goblin dares come near , Care puts an easier aspect on , Pale Anger smooths her threat'ning frown , Mirth comes in Melancholy's stead , And Discontent conceals her head . The thoughts on vagrant pinions fly , And mount exulting to the sky ; Thence with enraptur'd views look down On golden empires all their own . Or let , when Fancy spreads her sails , Love waft you on with easier gales , Where in the soul-bewitching groves , EUPHROSINE , sweet goddess , roves ; 'Tis rapture all , 'tis extasy ! An earthly immortality ! This all the ancient Bards employ'd , 'Twas all the ancient Gods enjoy'd , Who often from the realms above Came down on earth t' indulge in love . Still there's one greater bliss in store , 'Tis virtuous Friendship's social hour , When goodness from the heart sincere Pours forth Compassion's balmy tear , For from those tears such transports flow , As none but friends , and angels know . Blest state ! where ev'ry thing conspires To fill the breast with heav'nly fires ! Where for a while the soul must roam , To preconceive the state to come , And when thro' life the journey's past , Without repining or distaste , Again the spirit will repair , To breathe a more celestial air , And reap , where blessed beings glow , Completion of the joys below .
PART III . TERPSICHORE : or , The Moderate . — foreign . HOM. Od. foreign . Haec satis est orare Jovem . Qui donat et aufert , Det vitam , det opes ; aepuum mi animum ipse parabo . HOR. Lib. 1. Ep. 18. DESCEND , Astraea , from above , Where Jove's celestial daughters rove , And deign once more to bring with thee Thy earth-deserting family , Calm Temperance , and Patience mild , Sweet Contemplation's heavenly child , Reflection firm , and Fancy free , Religion pure , and Probity , Whilst all the Heliconian throng Shall join TERPSICHORE in song . Ere man great Reason's lord was made , Or the world's first foundations laid , As high in their divine abodes , Consulting sate the mighty gods , Jove on the chaos looking down , Spoke thus from his imperial throne : " Ye deities and potentates , " Aerial pow'rs , and heav'nly states , " Lo , in that gloomy place below , " Where darkness reigns and discord now , " There a new world shall grace the skies , " And a new creature form'd arise , " Who shall partake of our perfections , " And live and act by our directions , " ( For the chief bliss of any station " Is nought without communication ) " Let therefore ev'ry godhead give " What this new being should receive , " But care important must be had , " To mingle well of good and bad , " That by th' allaying mixture , he " May not approach to deity . " The sovereign spake , the gods agree , And each began in his degree : Behind the throne of Jove there stood Two vessels of celestial wood , Containing just two equal measures , One fill'd with pain , and one with pleasures ; The gods drew out from both of these , And mix'd 'em with their essences , ( Which essences are heav'nly still , When undisturb'd by nat'ral ill , And man to moral good is prone , Let but the moral pow'rs alone , And not pervert 'em by tuition , Or conjure 'em by superstition ) Hence man partakes an equal share Of pleasing thoughts and gloomy care , And Plain and Pleasure e'er shall be , As See the PHAEDO of Plato . PLATO says , in company . Receive the one , and soon the other Will follow to rejoin his brother . Those who with pious pain pursue Calm Virtue , by her sacred clue , Will surely find the mental treasure Of Virtue , only real pleasure : Follow the pleasurable road , That fatal Siren reckons good , 'Twill lead thee to the gloomy cell , Where Pain and Melancholy dwell . Health is the child of Abstinence , Disease , of a luxurious sense ; Despair , that hellish fiend , proceeds From loosen'd thoughts , and impious deeds ; And the sweet offspring of Content , Flows from the mind's calm government . Thus , man , thy state is free from woe , If thou would'st chuse to make it so . Murmur not then at Heav'n's decree , The gods have given thee liberty , And plac'd within thy conscious breast , Reason , as an unerring test , And should'st thou fix on misery , The fault is not in them , but thee .