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And, if each system in gradation roll
Alike essential to th' amazing Whole,
The leaft confufion but in one, not all
That system only, but the whole must fall.
Let earth, unbalane'd from her orbit fly,
Planets and Suns run lawless through the sky;
Let ruling Angels from their spheres be hurl'd,
Being on Being wreck'd, and world on world,
Heav'n's whole foundations to the centre nod,
And Nature tremble to the throne of God.
All this dread ORDER break-for whom? for thee?
Vile worm!-Oh Madness! Pride! Impiety!

What if the foot, ordain'd the duft to tread,

Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
What if the head, the eye, or ear, repin'd
To serve mere engines to the ruling Mind?
Just as abfurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this gen'ral frame:
Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains,
The great directing MIND OF ALL ordains.
All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the Soul:
That chang'd through all, and yet in all the fame,
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame,
Warms in the fun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our foul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As fuli, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapteraph that adores and burns:
To him no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

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Cease then, nor ORDER Imperfection name:
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Submit. In this, or any other sphere,

Secure to be as bleft as thou canst bear:
Safe in the hand of one dispofing Pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.

All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not fee;
All Difcord, Harmony not understood;
All partial Evil, universal Good:

And, spite of Fride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.

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SUPERSTITION AND TYRANNY.

WHO first taught fouls enslav'd and realms undone,
Th' enormous faith of many made for one;
That proud exception to all Nature's laws,
T' invert the world, and counterwork its Cause?
Force first made conquest, and that conquest, law;
"Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe.
Then shar'd the tyranny, then lent it aid,
And Gods of conqu'rors, slaves of subjects made:
She 'midst the lightning's blaze, and thunder's found,
When rock'd the mountains, and when groan'd the ground,
She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray,
To pow'r unseen, and mightier far than they :
She, from the rending earth and bursting skies,
Saw Gods defcend, and fiends infernal rise :
Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blest abodes;
Fear made her Devils, and weak Hope her Gods;

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Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust,
Whose attributes were Rage, Revenge, or Luft;
Such as the fouls of cowards might conceive,
And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe.
Zeal, then, not Charity, became the guide;
And Hell was built on spite, and Heav'n on pride.
Then sacred seem'd th' ethereal vault no more;
Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore:
Then first the flamen tafted living food;

Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood;
With Heav'n's own thunders shook the world below,
And play'd the God an engine on his foe.

So drives self-love, through just and through unjuft,
To one Man's pow'r, ambition, lucre, luft:
The fame self-love, in all, becomes the cause
Of what restrains him, Government and Laws;
For, what one likes, if others like as well,
What serves one will, when many wills rebel?
How shall he keep, what fleeping or awake,
A weaker may surprise, a stronger take?
His fafety must his liberty restrain :
All join to guard what each defires to gain.
Forc'd into virtue thus by self-defence,
Ev'n kings learn'd justice and benevolence:
Self-love forfook the path it first purfu'd,
And found th: private in the public good.

'Twas then the flucious head or gen'rous mind,
Follow'r' of God, or friend of humankind,
Poet or patriot, rose but to restore
The faith and moral, Nature gave before;
Relum'd her ancient light, not kindled new;
If not God's image, yet his shadow drew;
Taught pow'r's due use to people and to kings,
Taught nor to flack, nor strain its tender strings,

The

The less or greater, set so justly true,
That touching one must strike the other too;
'Till jarring interests of themselves create
Th' according music of a well-mix'd state.
Such is the world's great harmony, that springs
From order, union, full consent of things:

Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made
To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade;
More pow'rful each as needful to the reft,
And, in proportion as it blesses, blest;
Draw to one point, and to one centre bring
Beast, Man, or Angel, Servant, Lord, or King.

For Forms of Government let fools contest;
Whate'er is best administer'd is best:
For Modes of Faith let graceless zealots fight,
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right;
In Faith and Hope the world will disagree,
But all Mankind's concern is Charity :
All must be false that thwart this one great End:
And all of God that bless Mankind or mend.

Man, like the gen'rous vine, supported lives;
The strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.
On their own axis as the planets run,
Yet make at once their circle round the Sun;
So two consistent motions act the Soul;
And one regards itself, and one the Whole.
Thus God and Nature link'd the gen'ral frame,
And bade Self-love and Social be the fame.

OH HAPPINESS

CHAP. XV.

ON HAPPINESS.

POPE.

PINESS! our being's end and aim!
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! whate'er thy name:
That something still which prompts th' eternal figh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die.;

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Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, feen double, by the fool, and wife.
Plant of celestial feed! if dropp'd below,
Say, in what mortal foil thou deign'it to grow?
Fair op'ning to some Court's propitious shine,
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnafian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?
Where grows where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the foil;
Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,
'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where;
'Tis never to be bought, but always free,
And, fled from monarchs, ST. JOHN! dwells with thee.
Ask of the Learn'd the way? The Learn'd are blind:
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind :
Some place the bliss in action, some in eafe,
Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment thefe;
Some, funk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain,
Some, swell'd to Gods, confefs ev'n Virtue vain :
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall,
To trust in every thing, or doubt of all.

Who thus define it, say they more or less
Than this, that Happiness is Happiness ?
Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave,
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we please,
Equal is common sense, and common ease.

Remember, Man, "the Universal Cause
" Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws;"
And makes what Happiness we justly call
Subsist not in the good of one, but all.

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