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PL E A SU RE:

THE

SE C O N D BOOK.

THE ARGUMENT.

SOLOMON again seeking happiness, enquires if

wealth and greatness can produce it : begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings, the luxury of music and feasting, and proceeds to the hopes and defires of love. In two episodes are fewn the follies and troubles of that paffion. SoLOMON fill disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought, reasons aright, and concludes, that as to ithe pursuit of pleasure, and sensual delight, ALL IS

VANITY AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT.

TEXTS chiefly alluded to in this BOOK.

I said in mine heart, go to now, I will prove thee with mirth; there

fore enjoy pleasure. Ecclesiastes, Chap. II. ver. 1. I made me greai works, I builded me houses, planted me vineyards.

ver, 4.

ver. 6.

I made me gardens and crchards; and I-planted trees in them of all

kinds of fruits. ver. s. I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringethe

forth trees. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the

labour that I had laboured to do, and behold, all was vanity and vexa.

tion of Spirit ; and there was no profit under the fun, ver. 11, I gat me men singers and women fingers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts.

ver, 8. I sought in mine heart to give myself unto wine (yet unacquainting mine

heart with wisdom) and to lay hold on folly, 'till I might see what was that good for the Sons of men, which they should do uuder bca

ven, all the days of their life. Then I said in my heart, as it happeneth unto the fool, so it happeneth

even unto me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my

heari, that chis also is vanity. ver. 15. Therefore I hated life, because the work that is wrought under the sun

is grievous unto me. Chap. II. ver, 17. Dead Ales cause the ointment to send forth a stinking favour: so doth a

little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour. Chap.

X. ver. 1. The memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the wicked fhall rot.

Proverbs, Chap. X. ver. 7.

ver. 3.

TH £

SECOND BO O K.

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'R Y then, Oman, the moments to deceive,

That from the womb attend thee to the grave.
For weary'd nature find some apter scheme:
Health be thy hope ; and pleasure be thy theme:
From the perplexing and unequal ways,
Where ftudy brings thee ; from the endless maze,
Which doubt persuades to run, forewarn'd recede,
To the gay field, and flow'ry path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease :
Forsake what may instruct, for what may please:
Effay amusing art, and proud expence ;
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.

I commun'd thus: the pow'r of wealth I try'd,
And all the various luxe of costly pride.
Artists and plans reliev'd my folemn hours:
I founded palaces, and planted bow'rs.
Birds, fishes, beasts of each exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confin’d.
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth;
And bid a foreign shade grace Juda's earth.
Fish-ponds were made, where former forests grew:
And hills were levell’d to extend the view.

Rivers diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force.
From large cascades in pleasing tumult rolld;
Or rose thro' figur’d stone, or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble: brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars long-extended rows,
On which the painted grove, and pengle garden grows.

The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret, and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone:
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne :
The spreading cedar, that an age had food,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carv'd, my fhining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his fuin'd honour mourns.

A thoufand artists thew their cunning pow's,
To raise the wonders of the iv'ry tow'r.
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom,
To weave the bed, and deck the regal room.;
Till Tyre confesses her exhausted ftore,
That on her coast the Murex is no more;
Till from the Parian ifle, and Libya's coast,
The mountains grieve their hopes of marble lofti;
And India's woods return their just complaint,
Their brood decay'd, and want of elephant.

My full design with vast expence atchiev'd,
I came, beheld, admir’d, reflected, griev'd.
I chid the folly of my thoughtless haste:
For, the work perfected, the joy was past.

To my new courts sad thought did ftill repair ; And round my gilded roofs hung hov’ring Care.

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