Here hired assassins kill; there, sulphur thrown,
By treacherous hands, destroys the frighted town.
Bold sacrilege, invading things divine,

Breaks through a temple or destroys a shrine;
The reverend goblets, and the ancient plate,
Those grateful presents of a conquering state,
Or pious king; or if the shrine be poor,
The image spoils: nor is the god secure.
One seizes Neptune's beard, one Castor's crown,
Or Jove himself, and melts the thunderer down,
Here poisoners murder, there the impious son,
With whom a guiltless ape" is doom'd to drown,
Prevents old age; and with a hasty blow
Cuts down his sire, and quickens fates too slow.

Yet what are these to those vast heaps of crimes, Which make the greatest business of our times, Which terms prolong, and which from morn to night Amaze the juries, and the judges fright?

Attend the court, and thou shalt briefly find
In that one place the manners of mankind;
Hear the indictments, then return again,
Call thyself wretch, and if thou darest, complain.
Whom, midst the Alps, do hanging throats
surprise?

Who stares, in Germany, at watchet eyes?
Or who in Meroë, when the breast, reclined,
Hangs o'er the shoulder to the child behind,
And bigger than the boy? for wonder's lost
When things grow common, and are found in most.
When cranes invade, his little sword and shield
The pigmy takes, and straight attends the field:

13 The villain that killed his father was to be put into a bag with a dog, a cock, a serpent, and an ape, and thrown into the

sea.

The fight's soon o'er; the cranes descend, and bear
The sprawling warriors through the liquid air:
Now here should such a fight appear to view
All men would split, the sight would please whilst
[fight,
There none's concern'd, where every day they
And not one warrior is a foot in height.

new:

XVII.

But shall the villain scape? shall perjury
Grow rich and safe, and shall the cheat be free?
Hadst thou full power (rage asks no more) to
Or measure out his torments by thy will; [kill,
Yet what couldst thou, tormentor, hope to gain?
Thy loss continues, unrepaid by pain;
Inglorious comfort thou shalt poorly meet
From his mean blood. But, oh! revenge is sweet.
Thus think the crowd, who, eager to engage,
Take quickly fire, and kindle into rage;
Who ne'er consider; but, without a pause,
Make up in passion what they want in cause.
Not so mild Thales nor Chrysippus 14 thought,
Nor that good man, who drank the poisonous
draught

With mind serene; and could not wish to see
His vile accuser drink as deep as he:
Exalted Socrates! divinely brave!
Injured he fell, and dying he forgave;
Too noble for revenge; which still we find
The weakest frailty of a feeble mind;
Degenerous passion, and for man too base,
It seats its empire in the female race,
There rages; and, to make its blow secure,
Puts flattery on, until the aim be sure.

14 Philosophers of great credit and worth.

XVIII.

But why must those be thought to scape, that feel

Those rods of scorpions, and those whips of steel, Which conscience shakes, when she with rage controls,

And spreads amazing terrors through their souls?
Not sharp revenge, not hell itself, can find
A fiercer torment than a guilty mind.

Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse,
Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.

XIX.

A trusted Spartan was inclined to cheat (The coin look'd lovely, and the bag was great, Secret the trust), and with an oath defend The prize, and baffle his deluded friend: But weak in sin, and of the gods afraid, And not well versed in the forswearing trade, He goes to Delphos; humbly begs advice; And thus the priestess by command replies— Expect sure vengeance, by the gods decreed, To punish thoughts, not yet improved to deed.' At this he started, and forbore to swear, Not out of conscience of the sin, but fear. Yet plagues ensued, and the contagious sin Destroy'd himself, and ruin'd all his kin. Thus suffer'd he for the imperfect will To sin, and bare design of doing ill: For he that but conceives a crime in thought, Contracts the danger of an actual fault : Then what must he expect, that still proceeds To finish sin, and work up thoughts to deeds?

XX.

Perpetual anguish fills his anxious breast, Not stopp'd by business, nor composed by rest: No music cheers him, and no feast can please, He sits like discontented Damocles "; When by the sportive tyrant wisely shown The dangerous pleasures of a flatter'd throne.

Sleep flies the wretch; or when his care's op-
And his toss'd limbs are wearied into rest, [press'd,
Then dreams invade, the injured gods appear,
All arm'd with thunder, and awake his fear.
What frights him most, in a gigantic size,
Thy sacred image flashes in his eyes:
These shake his soul, and, as they boldly press,
Bring out his crimes, and force him to confess.
This wretch will start at every flash that flies,
Grow pale at the first murmur of the skies,
Ere clouds are form'd, and thunder roars, afraid;
And Epicurus 16 can afford no aid;

His notions fail: and the destructive flame
Commission'd falls, not thrown by chance, but aim.
One clap is pass'd, and now the skies are clear,
A short reprieve but to increase his fear:
Whilst arms divine, revenging crimes, below,
Are gathering up to give the greater blow.
But if a fever fires his sulphurous blood
In every fit he feels the hand of God,

15 Damocles having very much extolled the happiness of kings, in the presence of Dionysius king of Syracuse; Dionysius invited him to dinner, placed him on a rich throne, and gave him a very splendid entertainment; but just over his head hung a sword by a hair, with the point downward.

16 A philosopher, who thought all things were by chance.

And heaven-born flame. Then drown'd in deep
He dares not offer one repenting prayer; [despair,
Nor vow one victim to preserve his breath;
Amazed he lies, and sadly looks for death:
For how can hope with desperate guilt agree?
And the worst beast is worthier life than he.

XXI.

He that once sins, like him that slides on ice, Goes swiftly down the slippery ways of vice; Though conscience checks him, yet, those rubs gone o'er,

He slides on smoothly, and looks back no more.
What sinners finish where they first begin;
And with one crime content their lust to sin?
Nature, that rude, and in her first essay,
Stood boggling at the roughness of the way;
Used to the road, unknowing to return,
Goes boldly on, and loves the path when worn.

XXII.

Fear not, but pleased with this successful bait, Thy perjured friend will quickly tempt his fate; He will go on, until his crimes provoke

The arm divine to strike the fatal stroke:

Then thou shalt see him plunged, when least he
At once accounting for his deep arrears; [fears,
Sent to those narrow isles, which throng'd we see
With mighty exiles, once secure as he;
Drawn to the gallows, or condemn'd to chains:
Then thou shalt triumph in the villain's pains,
Enjoy his groans; and with a grateful mind
Confess, that Heaven is neither deaf nor blind.

VOL. II.

G