Fam'd for their Father's Virtue and their own,

Not ev❜n for fuch a Price as this I'd deign
The fame dull Path to tread so often o'er,
And the fame Circle wheel. The Mind afpires
To Things more glorious. To its high Defires
Nothing is equal, that can change or end.

OF

OF THE

IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

BOOK THE SECOND.

I

N ev'ry Thing befide, that God hath made,
Plain Marks then of his Goodness he has fhewn;
All

All can, but Man, be happy. Man, on Earth
Chief of his Works, Man in his Image made,
With Sufferings fevere is exercis'd.

No;----of the Deity be fuch Complaints

Far from us.. Yet look round with me awhile
On human Life; you'll own what a vaft Crowd
Of Evils preffes hard on ev'ry Side,

Not upon this, or that Man, as it falls;

But

But upon, nearly, the whole human Race
Without Distinction, and in Multitudes.
How many Thousands sweeps the Rage of War!
How many does relentless Tyranny,

Of Torture various Arts from Day to Day
Devifing, give to Death, or load with Chains!
What those who wretched e'en where Plenty reigns,'
Perish with Hunger; or whom fell Disease

Takes off at once, or lingring Sickness wasts
Piece-meal, without their Fault! for those I pass
Unmention'd, who, in Numbers, Martyrs fall
To Wine and Women and their own Excess.
What profits Virtue? Of religious Life
Where the Rewards? Give Virtue all her Due;
Let her the Evils, which fhe can't prevent,
By bearing teach to foften; let her chear
With better Hope; to Man give inward Peace;
Abate the swelling Tides of Rage and Love;
Still She protects not-is no certain Guard
Against Misfortune. Nay, (the Truth allow'd)
Oft Virtue's self to Dangers evident
Exposes. 'Tis their Int'reft to be bad,
Who ferve proud Masters. Ev'ry Tyrant hates
True Honesty. How many, who have ferv'd
Their Country gloriously, have been undone

л

By the blind Rage of Those whom they had fav'd!-
No fooner does a Character appear

Of any Eminence, but ftrait, in Arms
And close Confed'racy, the envious Mob
Rife up against him; quick with Viper-tooth
To gnaw, and shed their Poison on, his Fame.
Again, fuppofe the Cloud, that ftops his Rife,
He by his Merit breaks and diffipates;

Era Then must he toil for an ungrateful Race;
Bear ev'ry Kind of Slander and Abuse ;
And all the Hazards run, that can arise
From Mob feditious, or th' ambitious Great.
This let him hear, who madly feeks a Name
And Honours for himself; yet ignorant,
How great the Troubles, that furround his Choice.
Is private Life ought better? There, you see,
No lefs reigns Anger, Luft, and all that's base:..
In Mask of Friendship, Fraud; Envy malign;
And Tricks and Squabbles, and vexatious Suits.
But, tell me, foftens not the Cares of Life.
An amiable Wife? Domeftic Eafe:

With Safety and with Pleasure

you enjoy;
Around stand smiling the fweet Innocents,.
And eager reach for the fond Parent's Kifs,
The Guard and Pride of his advancing Age.

Here's

Here's what we feek, or no where; true, but then
Are there no Troubles to corrupt these Joys?
What Torment, if, as often, diff'rent Turns
Both take, and each their own refolv'd purfue!
Nor is it easy, e'er the Knot is tied,

To know the Temper, nicely as we ought;
Nor, fhould Repentance follow, have we Pow'r
To break our Chain: But the hard Lot remains,
And the important Dye is thrown for Life.

Befides, who is there that can undertake,
That Children shall be virtuously difpos'd,
And strictly follow what is good? But grant,
That all Things to your Wishes here fucceed,
Yet ah! when least you think, in Flow'r of Youth,
Death fweeps at once the Family's whole Hope..
I own, thefe Evils Virtue does not cause;
Nay more, if each the Duty of his Post
Would faithfully discharge, Nothing would be
Than Virtue better; then the golden Age
Would foon return; but in that Age to live
Is not our present Lot. Hence, of the World
Some have fuppos'd two Principles, two Gods;
One Ill-difpos'd, Author of all that's Bad;

3.

The