A SATIRE in the Manner of PERSIUS , in a Dialogue between ATTICUS and EUGENIO . By the late Lord HERVEY . ATTICUS . WHY wears my pensive friend that gloomy brow ? Say , whence proceeds th' imaginary woe ? What prosp'rous villain hast thou met to-day ? Or hath afflicted Virtue cross'd thy way ? Is it some crime unpunish'd you deplore , Or right subverted by injurious Power ? Be this or that the cause , 'tis wisely done To make the sorrows of mankind your own : To see the injur'd pleading unredress'd , The proud exalted , and the meek oppress'd , Can hurt thy health , and rob thee of thy rest . Your cares are in a hopeful way to cease , If you must find perfection to find peace . But reck thy malice , vent thy stifled rage , Inveigh against the times and lash the age . — Perhaps just recent from the court you come , O'er public ills to ruminate at home : Say , which of all the wretches thou hast seen Hath thrown a morsel to thy hungry spleen ? What worthless member of that medley throng , Who basely acts , or tamely suffers wrong ? He , who to nothing but his int'rest true , Cajoles the fool he's working to undo : Or that more despicable timorous slave , Who knows himself abus'd , yet hugs the knave ? Perhaps you mourn our senate's sinking fame , That shew of freedom dwindled to a name : Where hireling judges deal their venal laws , And the best bidder hath the justest cause ; What then ? They have the pow'r , and who shall dare to blame The legal wrong that bears Astraea's name ? Besides , such thoughts shou'd never stir the rage Of youthful gall ; — reflection comes with age : 'Tis our decaying life's autumnal fruit , The bitter produce of our latest shoot , When ev'ry blossom of the tree is dead , Enjoyment wither'd , and our wishes fled : Thine still is in its spring , on ev'ry bough Fair Plenty blooms , and youthful Odours blow ; Season of joy , too early to be wise , The time to covet pleasures , not despise : Yours is an age when trifles ought to please , Too soon for reason to attack thy ease . Tho' soon the hour shall come , when thou shalt know 'Tis vain fruition ull , and empty shew . But late examine , late inspect mankind , If seeing pains , 'tis prudence to be blind . Let not their vices yet employ thy thoughts , Laugh at their follies , ere you weep their faults : And when ( as sure you must ) at length you find What things men are , resolve to arm your mind . Too nicely never their demerits scan , And of their virtues make the most you can . Silent avert the mischief they intend , And cross , but seem not to discern , their end : If they prevail , submit , for prudence lies In suffering well . — 'Tis equally unwise , To see the injuries we won't resent , And mourn the evils which we can't prevent . EUGENIO . You counsel well to bid me arm my mind . Wou'd the receipt were easy , as 'tis kind ; But hard it is for misery to reach That fortitude prosperity can teach . Cou'd I forbid what has been to have been , Or lodge a doubt on truths myself have seen ; Cou'd I divest remembrance of her store , And say , collect these images no more ; Cou'd I dislodge sensation from my breast , And charm her wakeful faculties to rest ; Cou'd I my nature and myself subdue , I might the method you prescribe pursue . But if unfeign'd afflictions we endure , If reason's our disease , and not our cure , Then seeming ease is all we can obtain ; As one , who long familiariz'd to pain , Still feels the smart , but ceases to complain . Tho' young in life , yet long inur'd to care , Thus I submissive every evil bear : If unexpected ills alone are hard , Mine shou'd be light , who am for all prepar'd : No disappointments can my peace annoy , Disuse has wean'd me from all hopes of joy : The vain pursuit for ever I give o'er , Repuls'd I strive , betray'd I trust no more : Mankind I know , their nature , and their art , Their vice their own , their virtue but a part ; Ill play'd so oft , that all the cheat can tell , And dang'rous only where 'tis acted well . In different classes rang'd , a different name Attends their practice , but the heart's the same . Their hate is interest , interest too their love , On the same springs these different engines move : That sharpens malice , and directs her sting , And thence the honey'd streams of flattery spring . Long I suspected what at last I know : I thought men worthless , now I've prov'd 'em so ; Reluctant prov'd it , by too sure a rule , I learn'd my science in a painful school . He buys e'en wisdom at too dear a price , Who pays my sad experience to be wise . Why did I hope , by sanguine views possess'd , That Virtue harbour'd in a human breast ? Why did I trust to Flattery's specious wile , The April sunshine of her transient smile ? Why disbelieve the lessons of the wise , That taught me young to pierce her thin disguise ? I thought their rancour , not their prudence , spoke , That age perverse in false invectives broke ; I thought their comments on this gaudy scene The effects of phlegm , and dictated by spleen ; That jealous of the joys themselves were past , Their envy try'd to pall their children's taste : Like the deaf adder to the charmer's tongue , I gave no credit to the truths they sung ; But , happy in a visionary scheme , Still sought companions worthy my esteem : The tongue , the heart's interpreter I deem'd , And judg'd of what men were by what they seem'd ; I thought each warm professor meant me fair , Each supple sycophant a friend sincere . The solemn hypocrite , whose close design Mirth never interrupts , nor love , nor wine , Who talks on any secret but his own , Collecting all , communicating none ; Who still attentive to what others say , Observes to wound , or questions to betray ; Of him as guardian of my private thought , In morning counsels cool resolves I sought ; To him still open , cautiously consign'd The inmost treasures of my secret mind ; My joys , and griefs delighted to impart , In sacred confidence unmix'd with art ; That dangerous pleasure of the honest heart ! Whene'er I purpos'd to unbend my soul In social banquets , where the circling bowl To gladness lifts all sorrows but despair , And gives a transient Lethe to our care ; I chose the men whose talents entertain And season converse with a lively strain ; Who thoughtless still , by hope , nor fear perplex'd , Enjoy the present hour , and risque the next . These not the luxury of slothful ease , Soft downy beds , nor balmy slumbers please ; While wakeful kings on purple couches own The secret sorrows of their envy'd crown , And wait revolving light , with shorter rest Than e'en those wretches by their power opprest : This jocund train , devoted to delight , In chearful vigils still protract the night , Nor dread the cares approaching with the day ; Thro' each vicissitude for ever gay . With such I commun'd , pleas'd that I cou'd find Recess so grateful to the active mind : And while the youths in sprightly contest try , With humorous tale , or apposite reply , Or amorous song , or inoffensive jest , ( The test of wit ) to glad the lengthen'd feast ; My soul , said I , depend upon their truth , For fraud inhabits not the breast of youth ; Indulge thy genius here , be free , be safe , Mirth is their aim , they covet but to laugh ; Pure from deceit , as ignorant of care , Their friendship , and their joys are both sincere . I judg'd their nature , like their humour good ; As if the soul depended on the blood ; And that the seeds of honesty must grow Wherever health resides , or spirits flow . I see my error : but I see too late : 'Tis vain inspection to look back on Fate . — What are the men who most esteem'd we find , But such whose vices are the most refin'd ? Blind preference ! for vice like poison shews , The surest death is in the subtlest dose . — To such reflections when I turn my mind , I loath my being , and abhor mankind . What joy for truth , what commerce for the just , If all our safety's founded on distrust ; If all our wisdom is a mean deceit , And he who prospers but the ablest cheat ! ATTICUS . O early wise ! how well hast thou defin'd The worth , the joys , the friendship of mankind ! EUGENIO . Blest be the pow'rs , I know their abject state . ATTICUS . Yet bear with this , and hope a better fate . Thrice happy they , who view with stable eyes The shifting scene , who temp'rate , firm , and wise , Can bear its sorrows , and its joys despise ; Who look on disappointments , shocks , and strife , And all the consequential ills of life , Not as severities the gods impose , But easy terms indulgent Heav'n allows To man , by short probation to obtain Immortal recompence for transient pain . Th' intent of Heav'n thus rightly understood , From every evil we extract a good : This truth divine implanted in the heart , Supports each drudging mortal thro' his part ; Gives a delightful prospect to the blind ; The friendless thence a constant succour find : The wretch by fraud betray'd , by pow'r oppress'd , With this restorative still soothes his breast ; This suffering Virtue chears , this Pain beguiles , And decks Calamity herself in smiles . When Mead and Freind have ransack'd ev'ry rule , Taught in Hippocrates' and Galen's school , To quiet ills that mock the leech's art , Which opiates fail to deaden in the heart , This cordial still th' incurable sustains : He triumphs in the sharp instructive pains , Nor like a Roman hero , falsely great , With impious hand anticipates his fate ; But waits resign'd the slow approach of death ; Till that great Power who gave , demands his breath . Such are thy solid comforts , love divine , Such solid comforts , O my friend , be thine . On this firm basis thy foundation lay , Of happiness unsubject to decay . On man no more , that frail support , depend , The kindest patron , or the warmest friend ; The warmest friend may one day prove untrue , And interest change the kindest patron's view . Hear not , my friend , the fondness they profess , Nor on the trial grieve to find it less : With patience each capricious change endure ; Careful to merit where reward is sure . To Providence implicitly resign'd , Let this grand precept poise thy wavering mind : With partial eyes we view our own weak cause , And rashly scan her upright equal laws : For undeserv'd she ne'er inflicts a woe , Nor is her recompence unsure , tho' slow . Unpunish'd none transgress , deceiv'd none trust , Her rules are fixt , and all her ways are just .