Obferve how prudent Nature's icy hoard,
With all her nitrous ftores, would be devour'd;
Then would unbalanc'd heat licentious reign,
Crack the dry hill, and chap the ruffet plain;
Her moisture all exhal'd, the cleaving earth
Would yield no fruit, and bear no verdant birth.
You of the pools and fpacious lakes complain,
And of the liquid deserts of the main,
As hurtful thefe, or useless, you arraign.
Befides the pleasure, which the lakes afford,
Are not their waves with fish delicious ftor'd?
Does not the wide capacious deep the fky
With dewy clouds, the earth with rain, supply?
Do not the rivers, which the valley lave,
Creep through the fecret fubterranean cave,
And to the hills convey the refluent wave?
You then must own, the earth the ocean needs,
Which thus the lake recruits, the fountain feeds.
The noxious plant and favage animal,
Which you the earth's reproach and blemish call,
Are ufeful various ways; if not for food,
For manufactures or for medicine good.
Thus we repel with reafon, not evade,
The bold objections by Lucretius made.
Pyrrhonians next, of like ambitious aim,
Wanton of wit, and panting after fame,
Who ftrove to fink the fects of chief renown,
And on their ruin'd fchools to raise their own,
Boldly prefum'd, with rhetorician pride,
To hold of any question either fide.
They thought, in every fubject of debate,
In either scale the proof of equal weight.
Afk, if a God exiftent they allow ?
The vain declaimers will attempt to show,
That, whether you renounce him, or affert,
There's no fuperior proof on either part.
Suppofe a God, we muft, fay they, conclude
He lives; if fo, he is with fenfe endued;
And, if with fenfe endued, may pain perceive,
And what can fuffer pain may cease to live.
Pyrrhonians, we a living God adore,
An unexhausted spring of vital power;
But his immortal, uncreated life
No torment feels, and no deftructive grief.
Does he by different organs taste or hear?
Or by an eye do things to him appear?
Has he a muscle, or extended nerve,
Which to impart or pain or pleasure serve ?
Of all perfection poffible poffeft,
He finds no want, nor is with woe opprest.
Though we can ne'er explore the life divine,
And found the blest abyss by reason's line,
Yet 'tis not, mortal man, a tranfient life, like thine.
Others, to whom the whole mechanic tribe
With an harmonious sympathy subscribe,
Nature with empire univerfal crown,
And this high queen the world's Creator own. you what builder rear'd the world demand,
They fay 'twas done by Nature's powerful hand;
If whence its order and its beauty rofe,
Nature, they fay, did fo the frame dispose;
"If what its fteady motions does maintain,
And holds of caufes and effects the chain,
O'er all her works this Sovereign Cause prefides,
Upholds the orbs, and all their motions guides.
Since to her bounty we fuch bleffings owe,
Our generous Benefactor let us know.
When the word Nature you express, declare,
Form'd in your minds what image does appear?
Can you that term of doubtful found explain?
Show it no idle off-fpring of the brain?
Sometimes by Nature your enlighten'd school
Intends of things the universal whole;
Sometimes it is the order, that connects,
And holds the chain of caufes and effects;
Sometimes it is the manner, and the way,
In which thofe caufes do their force convey,
And in effects their energy display.
That the 's the work itself, you oft' affert,
As oft' th' artificer, as oft' the art;
That is, that we may Nature clearly trace,
And by your marks diftinctly know her face;
She's now the building, now the architect,
And now the rule which does his hand direct.
But, let this emprefs be whate'er you please;
Let her be all, or any one of thefe ;
She is with reafon, or fhe's not, endued :
If you the firft affirm, we thence conclude
A God, whofe Being you oppose, you grant:
But, if this mighty queen does reason want,
How could this noble fabric be defign'd,
And fashion'd by a Maker brute and blind?
I
Could it of art fuch miracles invent,
And raise a beauteous world of fuch extent?
Still at the helm does this dark pilot stand,
And with a steady, never-erring hand,
Steer all the floating worlds, and their fet course command?
That clearer ftrokes of mafterly defign,
Of wife contrivance, and of judgement, fhine
In all the parts of Nature, we affert,
Than in the brightest works of human art:
And fhall not thofe be judg'd th' effect of thought,
As well as thefe with skill inferior wrought?
Let fuch a fphere to India be convey'd,
As Archimede or modern Hugens made;
Will not the Indian, though untaught and rude,
This work th' effect of wife defign conclude?
Is there fuch skill in imitation fhown?
And in the things, we imitate, is none?
Are not our arts, by artful nature taught,
With pain and careful obfervation fought?
Behold the painter, who with Nature vies:
See his whole foul exerted in his eyes!
He views her various fcenes, intent to trace
The mafter lines, that form her finish'd face:
Are thought and conduct in the copy clear,
While none in all th' original appear?
Tell us, what mafter, for mechanicks fam'd,
Has one machine fo admirably fram'd,
Where you will art in fuch perfection grant,
As in a living creature, or a plant?
Declare, what curious workmanship can vie
Or with a hand or foot, an ear, or eye?
That can for fkill as much applaufe deferve,
As the fine texture of the fibrous nerve;
Or the ftupendous system, which contains
Th' arterial channels, or the winding veins?
What artificial frame, what inftrument,
Did one fuperior genius yet invent,
Which to the bones or mufcles is preferr'd,
If you their order, form, or ufe, regard?
Why then to works of nature is affign'd
An Author uninteiligent and blind,
When ours proceed from choice and Confcious Mind?
To this you fay, that Nature 's are indeed
Moft artful works, but then they ne'er proceed
From Nature acting with defign and art,
Who void of choice her vigour does exert,
And by unguided motion things produce,
Regardless of their order, end, or use.
By Tully's mouth thus Cotta does difpute;
But thus, with eafe, the Roman we confute:
Say, if in artful things no art is fhown,
What are the certain marks, that make it known?
How will you artful from unartful bound,
And not th' ideas in our mind confound?
Than this no truth displays before our fight
A brighter beam, or more convincing light,
That skilful works fuppose a skilful Cause,
Which acts by choice, and moves by prudent laws.
you, unless
you are as matter blind,
Conduct and beauteous difpofition find,
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