To whom can riches give repute, or trust, Judges and senates have been bought for gold; 185 O fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, The lover and the love of human kind, 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, One flaunt in rags, one flutters in brocade; 195 The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, "What differ more (you cry) than crown and cow!? 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 prunello. Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with strings, 205 That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings, In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece : But by your fathers' worth if your's you rate, Count me those only who were good and great. 210 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. 215 Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies? Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, All sly-slow things, with circumspective eyes : 220 225 Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat; 'Tis 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. 235 What's fame? a fancy'd life in others' breath, A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. Just what you hear, you have, and what's unknown 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 When what t' oblivion better were resign'd, A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod; An honest man's the noblest work of God. Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. 250 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 And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, In parts superior what advantage lies? Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? 260 "Tis but to know how little can be known; To see all others' faults, and feel our own; Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 265 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; 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: 275 Say would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 280 285 From ancient story, learn to scorn them all. 290 Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, 295 300 A tale, that blends their glory with their shame! The only point where human bliss stands still, 310 315 And but more relish'd as the more distress'd: Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears: 320 Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd, For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd; Never elated, while one man's oppress'd; Never dejected, while another's bless'd, And where no wants, no wishes can remain, See the sole bliss Heav'n could on all bestow! 3:25 330 |