And what in me feems wanting, but that I
May also in this poverty as foon
Accomplish what they did, perhaps and more?
Extol not riches then, the toyl of fools,
The wife man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt
To flacken virtue, and abate her edge,
Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
What if with like averfion I reject
Riches and realms? yet not, for that a crown,.
Golden in fhew, is but a wreath of thorns,
Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and fleepless nights
To him who wears the regal diadem,
When on his fhoulders each man's burden lies:
For therein ftands the office of a king,
His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praife,
That for the publick all this weight he bears.
Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Paffions, defires, and fears, is more a king:
Which ev'ry wife and virtuous man attains:
And who attains not, ill afpires to rule
Cities of men or headstrong multitudes,
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless paffions in him, which he ferves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By faving doctrine, and from error lead
To know, and knowing worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly; this attracts the foul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part:
That other o'er the body only reigns;
And oft by force, which to a gen'rous mind
So reigning, can be no fincere delight.
Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought
Greater and nobler done, and to lay down
Far more magnanimous, than to affume.
Riches are needless, then, both for themselves,
And for thy reason why they should be fought,
To gain a fceptre, ofteft better mifs'd.
O fpake the Son of God; and fatan food
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinc'd
Of his weak arguing, and fallacious drift:
At length collecting all his ferpent wiles,
With foothing words renew'd, him thus accofts.
I fee thou know'ft what is of use to know,
What best to say canft fay, to do canft do:
Thy actions to thy words accord, thy words
To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart
Contains of good, wife, juft, the perfect shape.
Should kings and nations, from thy mouth confult,
Thy counsel would be as the oracle
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems
On Aaron's breaft, or tongue of feers old
Infallible; or wert thou fought to deeds
That might require th' array of war, thy skill
Of conduct would be fuch, that all the world
Could not sustain thy prowess, or fubfift
In battle, though against thy few in arms.
These god-like virtues wherefore doft thou hide,
Affecting private life, or more obfcure
In savage wilderness? wherefore deprive
All earth her wonder at thy acts, thy felf
The fame and glory; glory, the rewarde
That fole excites to high attempts, the flame
Of moft erected fpirits, most temper'd pure
Aetherial, who all pleasures else despise,
All treafures and all gain efteem as drofs,
And dignities and pow'rs all but the highest?
Thy years are ripe, and over ripe; the fon
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Afia, and the throne of Cyrus held
At his difpofe; young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride, young Pompey quell'd
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirft of glory, but augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more inflam'd
With glory, wept that he had liv'd so long
Inglorious: but thou yet art not too late.
To whom our Saviour calmly thus reply'd.
Thou neither doft perfuade me to seek wealth
For empire's fake, nor empire to affect
For glory's fake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people's praife, if always praise unmixt?
And what the people but a herd confus'd,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol
Things vulgar,and well weigh'd scarce worth the praise?
They praise and they admire they know not what;
And know not whom, but as one leads the other;
And what delight to be by fuch extoll'd,
To live upon their tongues and be their talk,
Of whom to be defpis'd were no small praise?
His lot who dares be fingularly good.
Th' intelligent among them and the wife
Are few, and glory fcarce of few is rais'd.
This is true glory and renown, when God
Looking on th' earth, with approbation marks
The just man, and divulges him through heav'n
To all his angels, who with true applause
Recount his praises; thus he did to Job,
When to extend his fame through heav'n and earth
(As thou to thy reproach may'st well remember)
He ask'd thee, haft thou seen my fervant Job?
Famous he was in heav'n, on earth less known;
Where glory is false glory, attributed
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame.
They err, who count it glorious to fubdue
By conqueft far and wide, to over-run
Large countries, and in field great battles win,
Great cities by affault. What do thefe worthies,
But rob and spoil, burn, flaughter, and enslave
Peaceable nations, neighbouring, or remote,
Made captive, yet deferving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wherefoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy;
Then fwell with pride, and must be titled gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers,
Worshipp'd with temple, priest and facrifice;
One is the fon of Jove, of Mars the other,
Till conqu❜ror death difcover them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd,
Violent or fhameful death their due reward.
But if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attain'd
Without ambition, war, or violence;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance. I mention still
Him whom thy wrongs, with faintly patience born,
Made famous in a land and times obfcure;
Who names not now with honour patient Job?
Poor Socrates, (who next more memorable?)
By what he taught and fuffer'd for fo doing,
For truth's fake fuffering death unjuft, lives now
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors.
Yet if for fame and glory aught be done,
Aught fuffer'd; if young African for fame
His wafted country freed from Punic rage,
The deed becomes unprais'd, the man at least,
And lofes, though but verbal, his reward.
Shall I feek glory then, as vain men seek
Oft not deferv'd? I feek not mine, but his
Who fent me, and thereby witness whence I am.
To whom the tempter murm'ring thus reply'd.
Think not fo flight of glory, therein least
Resembling thy great father: he feeks glory,
And for his glory all things made, all things
Orders and governs, not content in heav'n
By all his angels glorify'd, requires
Glory from men, from all men, good or bad,
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