His evil was not evil, nor his good
Aught elfe but vanity misunderstood.
Confounding good and evil, like the throng,
His life, like theirs, was action always wrong.
Enlighten'd now in the true blifs of man,
He shapes his alter'd courfe by Wisdom's plan:
And, bleft himself, beholds with weeping eyes
The madding world an hofpital of fighs.
This retrospection ended, where fucceeds.
Where'er his wife volition leads.
Where'er it leads, fafety attends him ftill:
Not fafer, fhould he on Apollo's hill,
Among the Nymphs, among the vocal Pow'rs,
Dwell in the Sanctum of Corycian bow'rs:
Honour'd by all, the friend of human kind,
Belov'd phyfician of the fin-fick mind;
Not Efculapius more, whofe pow'r to fave
Redeems his patient from the yawning grave.
But never more shall his old restless foes
Awake his fears, nor trouble his repofe?
Never. In righteous habitude inur'd,
From Paffion's baneful anarchy fecur'd,
In each enticing scene, each instant hard,
That sovereign antidote his mind will guard:
Like him, who, of fome virtuous drug poffeft,
Grafps the fell viper coil'd within her nest,
Hears her dire hiffings, fees her terrors rise,
And, unappall'd, destruction's tooth defies.
Yon troops in motion from the mount explain,
Various to view; for there a goodly train,
With garlands crown'd, advance with comely pace,
Noble their port, and in each tranquil face
Joy Sparkles: others, a bare-headed throng,
Batter'd and gafb'd, drag their flow steps along, 490
Captives of fome strange female crew.
Long seeking, safe arriv'd at Wisdom's bound,
Exult in her imparted grace. h The rest,
Those on whom Wisdom, unprevailing, prest
Her healing aid; rejected from her care,
In evil plight their wicked days they wear:
Sorrows which gnaw, remorseful Thoughts which tear, Blindness of mind, and beart-oppreffing Fear,
With all the contumelious rout of Shame,
And every ill, and every hateful name.
Relaps'd to Lewdness, and her fenfual Queen,
Unblushing at themfelves, but drunk with fpleen,
Wisdom's high worth their canker'd tongues difpraife,
Revile her children, and blafpheme her ways.
Deluded wretches, (thus their madness cries)
Dull mopes, weak dupes of philofophic lies,
Uncomforted, unjoyous, and unblest,
Loft from the pleasures here at large poffeft.
What pleasures boaft they?
Pleasures of the stews, Pleafures which Riot's frantic bowls infufe. These high fruition their grofs fouls repute, And man's chief good to fink into a brute. But who that lovely bevy, blitbe and gay, So fmoothly gliding down the hilly way? 'Those are th' Opinions, who have guided right The unexperienc'd to the plain of light:
Returning, new adventurers to bring,
The bleffings of the laft arriv'd they fing.
i The distinction between Opinion and. Knowledge.
Why ingrefs yielded to their favour'd ward
Among the Virtues, to themselves debarr'd?
Opinion's foot is never never found
Where Knowledge dwells, 'tis interdicted ground,
At Wisdom's gate th' Opinions must refign
Their charge, those limits their employ confine.
Thus trading barks, fkill'd in the war'ry road,
To diftant climes convey their precious load,
Then turn their prow, light bounding o'er the main,
And with new traffic ftore their keels again.
Thus far is clear. But yet untold remains
What the good Genius to the crowd ordains,
Just on the verge of life.
k. He bids them hold 535
A fpirit with erected couragé bold.
Never (he calls) on Fortune's faith rely,
Nor grasp her dubious gifts as property.
Let not her smile transport, her frown difmay,
Nor praife, nor blame, nor wonder at her fway 540 Which reason never guides: 'tis fortune ftill, Capricious chance and arbitrary will,
Bad bankers, vain of treafure not their own,
With foolish rapture hug the trufted loan:
The inftructions of the Genius.
Impatient, when the pow'rful band demands
Its unremember'd cov'nant from their hands.
Unlike to fuch, without a figh restore
What Fortune lends: anon fhe'll lavish more:
Knowledge, whose beam the doubting judgment guides,
Scatters the fenfual fog, and clear to view
Diftinguishes false int'reft from the true.
Flee, flee to this, with unabating pace,
Nor parly for a moment at the place
Where Pleasure and her Harlots tempt, nor reft
But at Falfe Wisdom's inn, a tranfient guest:
For short refection, at her table fit,
And taste what science may your palate hit:
Then wing your journey forward, 'till you reach
True Wisdom, and imbibe the truths fhe'll teach.
Such is th' advice the friendly Genius gives,
He perishes who fcorns, who follows lives.
And thus this moral piece inftructs; if aught
Is mystic still, reveal your doubting thought.
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