Pleasure, firft, fuccours virtue; in return,

Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign.

What, but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith,
Supports life natural, civil, and divine?
'Tis from the pleasure of repaft, we live ;
"Tis from the pleasure of applaufe, we please;
"Tis from the pleasure of belief, we pray
(All prayer would ceafe, if unbeliev'd the prize):
It ferves ourselves, our fpecies, and our God;
And to ferve more, is paft the fphere of man.
Glide, then, for ever, pleasure's facred stream!
Through Eden, as Euphrates ran, it runs,
And fofters every growth of happy life;
Makes a new Eden where it flows ;-but fuch
As must be loft, Lorenzo! by thy fall.

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"What mean I by thy fall ?"-Thou 'It shortly fee, 66 While pleasure's nature is at large display'd;

Already fung her origin, and ends.

Thofe glorious ends, by kind, or by degree,
When pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice,
And vengeance too; it hastens into pain.
From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy;
From wild excefs, pain, grief, distraction, death;
Heaven's juftice this proclaims, and that her love.
What greater evil can I wish my foe,

665

Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask
Unbroach'd by juft authority, ungaug'd

670

By temperance, by reason unrefin'd?

A thousand dæmons lurk within the lee.
Heaven, others, and ourfelves! uninjur'd thefe,

Drink deep; the deeper, then, the more divine; 675 Angels are angels, from indulgence there; 'Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god.

Doft think thyself a god from other joys?
A victim rather! fhortly fure to bleed.

The wrong muft mourn: can heaven's appointments fail ?
Can man outwit Omnipotence? Strike out
A felf-wrought happiness unmeant by Him
Who made us, and the world we would enjoy?
Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence
Its diffonance, or harmony, shall rife.

Heaven bade the foul this mortal frame inspire;
Bade virtue's ray divine inspire the foul

With unprecarious flows of vital joy;

685

And, without breathing, man as well might hope
For life, as without piety, for peace.

“Is virtue, then, and piety the same ?”

No; piety is more; 'tis virtue's fource;
Mother of every worth, as that of joy.
Men of the world this doctrine ill digest;
They smile at piety; yet boast aloud

Good-will to men; nor know they strive to part
What nature joins; and thus confute themselves.
With piety begins all good on earth;

'Tis the firft-born of rationality.

Confcience, her first law broken, wounded lies;
Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good;

A feign'd affection bounds her utmost power.
Some we can't love, but for the Almighty's fake;
A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man;

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Some

Some finifter intent taints all he does ;

And, in his kindest actions, he 's unkind.

On piety, humanity is built;

705

And, on humanity, much happiness ;

And yet still more on piety itself.

A foul in commerce with her God, is heaven;

710

Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life;

The whirls of paffions, and the strokes of heart.
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun ;

A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;

A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.
Each branch of piety delight infpires;

Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,

That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream
Of glory on the confecrated hour

Of man, in audience with the Deity.

:

Who worships the Great God, that instant joins
The first in heaven, and fets his foot on hell.
Lorenzo! when waft Thou at church before?
Thou think'ft the fervice long but is it juft?
Though juft, unwelcome: thou hadft rather tread
Unhallow'd ground; the Muse, to win thine ear,
Must take an air lefs folemn. She complies.
Good confcience! at the found the world retires;
Verse difaffects it, and Lorenzo smiles;

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Yet has the her feraglio full of charms;

And fuch as age fhall heighten, not impair.

Art

Art thou dejected? Is thy mind o'ercaft?
Amid her fair-ones, thou the faireft chufe,

733

To chafe thy gloom.-" Go, fix fome weighty truth "Chain down fome paffion; do fome generous good; Teach ignorance to fee, or grief to smile;

Correct thy friend; befriend thy greatest foe; 740 "Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, "Spring up, and lay ftrong hold on Him who made thee.' Thy gloom is scatter'd, fprightly fpirits flow; Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unftrung.

Doft call the bowl, the viol, and the dance,
Loud mirth, mad laughter? Wretched comforters!
Physicians! more than half of thy disease.
Laughter, though never cenfur'd yet as fin,
(Pardon a thought that only seems severe)
Is half-immoral: is it much indulg'd ?
By venting spleen, or diffipating thought,
It fhews a fcorner, or it makes a fool;
And fins, as hurting others, or ourselves.
'Tis pride, or emptiness, applies the straw,
That tickles little minds to mirth effuse;
Of grief approaching, the portentous fign!
The house of laughter makes a house of woe.
A man triumphant is a monftrous fight;

A man dejected is a fight as mean.

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What cause for triumph, where such ills abound? 760 What for dejection, where prefides a Power,

Who call'd us into being to be bleft?

So grieve, as conscious, grief may rise to joy ;
So joy, as conscious, joy to grief may fall.

Moft

Moft true, a wife man never will be fad;

765

But neither will fonorous, bubbling mirth,

A shallow stream of happiness betray :

Too happy to be sportive, he 's ferene.

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Yet wouldst thou laugh (but at thy own expence) This counsel ftrange fhould I prefume to give"Retire, and read thy Bible, to be gay." There truths abound of fovereign aid to peace; Ah! do not prize them lefs, because inspir'd, As thou, and thine, are apt and proud to do. If not infpir'd, that pregnant page had stood, Time's treafure! and the wonder of the wife! Thou think'ft, perhaps, thy foul alone at stake; Alas!-Should men mistake thee for a fool ;What man of tafte for genius, wisdom, truth, Though tender of thy fame, could interpofe? Believe me, fenfe, here, acts a double part, And the true critic is a Chriftian too.

780

But thefe, thou think'ft, are gloomy paths to joy.--True joy in funfhine ne'er was found at first;

They, firft, themfelves offend, who greatly please; 785
And travel only gives us found repose.

Heaven fells all pleafure; effort is the price;
The joys of conqueft are the joys of man;
And glory the victorious laurel spreads
O'er pleasure's pure, perpetual, placid ftream.
There is a time, when toil must be preferr'd,
Or joy, by mif-tim'd fondness, is undone.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.

Thou wilt not take the trouble to be bleft.

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