To catch the wand'ring notice of mankind, 140 145 By good vouchsaf'd makes known superiour good, That bliss, reveal'd in Scripture, with a glow Bright as the covenant-ensuring bow, 150 Fires all his feelings with a noble scorn Of sensual evil, and thus hope is born. Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all That men have deem'd substantial since the fall; 155 From emptiness itself a real use; And while she takes, as at a father's hand, From fading good derives, with chemick art, 160 Hope with uplifted foot, set free from earth, Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, On steady wings sails through the immense abyss, Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss, And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here 165 With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. 170 Hope! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy, Whom now despairing agonies destroy, Speak, for he can, and none so well as he, What treasures centre, what delights in thee. Had he the gems, the spices, and the land, That boasts the treasure, all at his command; 175 Were light, when weigh'd against one smile of thine. Man is the genuine offspring of revolt, To frown, and roar, and shake his feeble form. Or, more provoking still, of nobler name, 180 185 190 The little Greeks look trembling at the scales, 195 Now see him launch'd into the world at large; If priest, supinely droning o'er his charge, Their fleece his pillow, and his weekly drawl, Though short, too long, the price he pays for all. 200 If lawyer, loud whatever cause he plead, But proudest of the worst, if that succeed. Perhaps a grave physician, gath'ring fees, Punctually paid for length'ning out disease; No Cotton, whose humanity sheds rays That make superiour skill his second praise. If arms engage him, he devotes to sport His date of life, so likely to be short; A soldier may be any thing, if brave, 205 So may a tradesman, if not quite a knave. 210 Such stuff the world is made of: and mankind Insist on, as if each were his own pope, 215 220 Mark these, she says; these summon'd from afar, 225 Begin their march to meet thee at the bar; There find a judge inexorably just, And perish there, as all presumption must. Peace be to those, (such peace as earth can give,) Who live in pleasure, dead e'en while they live; 230 Born, capable, indeed, of heav'nly truth; But down to latest age, from earliest youth, Their mind a wilderness through want of care, A right to the meek honours of her name,) 235 To any throne, except the throne of Grace. Let cottagers and unenlighten'd swains 240 Revere the laws they dream'd that Heav'n ordains; Resort on Sundays to the house of pray'r, And ask, and fancy they find blessings there. 245 May now and then their velvet cushions take, And seem to pray, for good example sake; Judging, in charity, no doubt, the town 250 255 They die-Death lends them, pleas'd, and as in With mournful scutcheons, and dim lamps between ; Proclaim their titles to the crowd around, 266 But they that wore them move not at the sound; The coronet plac'd highly at their head, Adds nothing now to the degraded dead ; And e'en the star, that glitters on the bier, 270 Peace to all such-'twere pity to offend, By useless censure, whom we cannot mend; 'Twas there we found them, and must leave them there. As when two pilgrims in a forest stray, Both may be lost, yet each in his own way; In vain Opinion's waste and dang'rous wild; 275 Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns among, 280 Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong. But here, alas! the fatal diff'rence lies, Each man's belief is right in his own eyes; And he that blames what they have blindly chose, 285 Say, botanist, within whose province fall The cedar and the hyssop on the wall, Of all that deck the lanes, the fields, the bow'rs, What parts the kindred tribes of weeds and flow'rs? Sweet scent, or lovely form, or both combin'd, Distinguish ev'ry cultivated kind; The want of both denotes a meaner breed, And Chloe from her garland picks the weed. Thus hopes of ev'ry sort, whatever sect 290 Esteem them, sow them, rear them, and protect. 295 Gethsemane! in thy dear hallow'd ground, 300 (Oh cast them from thee!) are weeds, arrant weeds. Lord paramount of the surrounding plains, 305 Would give relief of bed and board to none, But guests that sought it in th' appointed One; And they might enter at his open door, E'en till his spacious hall would hold no more. He sent a servant forth, by ev'ry road, 310 To sound his horn, and publish it abroad. That all might mark-knight, menial, high, and low, An ord'nance it concern'd them much to know. 315 320 |