But fhe's a Drudge when hector'd by the Brave.
If Fate weave common Thread, he'll change the Doom,
And with new Purple fpread a nobler Loom.
Heav'n bas to all allotted, foon or late, Some lucky Revolutions of their Fate: Whofe Motions if we watch and guide with Skill, (For human Good depends on human Will) Our Fortune rolls as from a smooth Defcent, And from the first Impreffion takes the Bent: But if unfeiz'd, fhe glides away like Wind, And leaves repenting Folly far behind. Dryd. Abs.& Achit. On what strange Grounds we build our Hopes and Fears! Man's Life is all a Mift, and in the Dark
Our Fortunes meet us.
If Fate be not, then what can we forefee?
And how can we avoid it if it be?
If by Free-Will in our own Paths we move,
How are we bounded by Decrees above?
Whether we drive, or whether we are driv'n,
If ill, 'tis ours; if good, the A&t of Heav'n.
Some kinder Pow'r, too weak for Destiny,
Took Pity, and indu'd his new-form'd Mafs
With Temp'rance. Juftice, Prudence, Fortitude,
And ev'ry kingly Virtue; but in vain;
For Fate that fent him hood-wink'd to the World,
Perform'd its Work by his mistaken Hands.
To you, great Gods, I make my last Appeal;
Or clear my Virtues, or my Crimes reveal:
If wandring in the Maze of Fate I run,
And backward trod the Paths I fought to fhun ;
Impute my Errours to your own Decree;
My Hands are guilty, but my Heart is free.
Gods! would you be ador'd for doing good,
Or only fear'd for proving mischievous?
How would you have your Mercy understood,
Who could create a Wretch like Maximus,
Ordain'd, tho' guiltlefs, to be infamous ?
Supream firft Caufes! you whence all things flow,
Whofe Infinitenefs does each Little fill;
You who decree each feeming Chance below,
So great in Power, were you as good in Will,
How could you ever have produc'd fuch Ill?
Had your eternal Minds been bent on Good,
Could human Happinefs have prov'd fo lame?
Rapine, Revenge, Injuftice, Thirft of Blood,
Grief, Anguifh, Horrour, Want, Defpair, and Shame,
Had never found a Being nor a Name!
'Tis therefore lefs Impiety to fay,
Evil with you has Coeternity;
Than blindly taking it the other Way,
That merciful, and of Election free,
You did create the Mischiefs you
forefee.
Be jufter Heav'n! fuch Virtue punish'd thus,
Will make us think that Chance rules all above,
And fhuffles with a random Hand the Lots
Which Man is forc'd to draw.
Thus with fhort Plummets Heav'ns deep Will we found,
That vaft Abyfs where human Wit is drown'd!
In our small Skiff we must not launch too far;
We here but Coafters, not Difcov'rers are.
Who rule the World with abfolute Decrees,
And write whatever Time shall bring to pafs
With Pens of Adamant on Plates of Brafs:
What is the Race of human Kind your Care,
Beyond what all his Fellow-Creatures are?
He with the reft is liable to Pain,
And like the Sheep, his Brother Beaft, is flain.
Gold, Hunger, Prifons, Ills without a Care,
All these he muft, and guiltless oft, endure:
Or does your Juftice, Pow'r, or Prescience fail,
When the Good fuffer, and the Bad prevail?
What worse to wretched Virtue could befall,
If Fate or giddy Fortune govern'd all?
Nay, worse than other Beafts is our Estate;
Them, to pursue their Pleasures you create;
We, bound by harder Laws, muft curb our Will,
And your Commands, not our Defires fulfil.
Then when the Creature is unjustly flain,
Yet after Death at least he feels no Pain:
But Man in Life furcharg'd with Woe before,.
Not freed when dead, is doom'd to fuffer more.
Good Heav'ns! why gave you me
And crufted it with bafe Plebeian Glay?
Why gave you me Defires of fuch Extent,
And fuch a Span to grafp them? Sure my Lot
By fome o'er-hafty Angel was misplac'd
In Fate's eternal Volume.
Tell me why, good Heav'n!
Thou mad'ft me what I am, with all the Spirit,
Afpiring Thoughts, and elegant Defires,
That fill the happieft Man? Ah, rather why
Didft thou not form me fordid as my Fate,
Bafe-minded, dull, and fit to carry Burthens?
Why have I Senfe to know the Curfe that's
Is this juft dealing, Nature?
Was it for this, ye cruel Gods! you made me
Great, like your felves, and as a King to be
Your facred Image? Was it but for this?
Why rather was I not a Peafant Slave,
Bred from my Birth a Drudge to your Creation,
And to my deftin'd Load inur'd betimes?
Take me as you have made me, miferable!
You cannot make me guilty! 'Twas my Fate,
And you made that, not I.
'Tis thus that Heav'n its Empire does maintain; It may afflict, but Man may not complain.
Yet 'tis the Curfe of mighty Minds opprefs'd,
To think what their State is, and what it fhould be:
Impatient of their Lot they reason fiercely;
And call the Laws of Providence unequal.
But why, alas! do mortal Men in vain,
Of Fortune, Fate, or Providence complain?
God gives us what he knows our Wants require,
And better things than those which we defire:
Some pray for Riches, Riches they obtain ;
But watch'd by Robbers, for their Wealth are flain;
Some pray from Prifon to be freed; and come,
When guilty of their Vows, to fall at Home;
Murther'd by thofe they trufted with their Life,
A favour'd Servant or a Bofom Wife.
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Such dear-bought Bleflings happen ev'ry Day,
Becaufe we know not for what things to pray.
Like drunken Sots about the Streets we roam,
Well knows the Sot he has a certain Home,
Yet knows not how to find th'uncertain Place,
But blunders on, and ftaggers ev'ry Pace.
Thus all feek Happiness, but few can find,
For far the greater Part of Men are blind.
The Gods are just;
But how can Finite measure Infinite ?
Reafon! alas! it does not know it felf:
But Man, vain Man, would with this fhort-lin'd Plummet
Fathom the vaft Abyss of heav'nly Juftice.
Whatever is, is in its Caufes juft;
Since all things are by Fate: But purblind Man
Sees but a Part o'th'Chain; the nearest Link;
His Eyes not carrying to that equal Beam
That poifes all above
The Fault of Fortune, or the Fate's Decree :
Or call it Heav'ns imperial Pow'r alone,
Which moves on Springs of Juftice, tho' unknown:
Yet this we fee, tho' order'd for the best,
The Bad exalted, and the Good opprefs'd.
Permitted Lawrels grace the lawless Brow,
Th'Unworthy rais'd, the Worthy caft below. Dryd. Sig.&Guis. And therefore wert thou bred to virtuous Knowledge,
And Wisdom early planted in thy Soul,
That thou mightst know to rule thy fiery Paffions,
To bind their Rage, and ftay their headlong Course;
To bear with Accidents, and ev'ry Change
Of various Life; to ftruggle with Adversity;
To wait the Leifure of the righteous Gods,
Till they, in their own good appointed Hour,
Shall bid thy better Days come forth at once;
A long and fhining Train, till thou well-pleas'd, (Row. Ulyff.
Shalt bow, and blefs thy Fate, and own the Gods are just.
FEAR. See Runaway.
A deadly Fear o'er all his Vitals reigns,
And his chill'd Blood hangs curdled in his Veins.
Terrour froze up his Hair, and on his Face
Show'rs of cold Sweat roll'd trembling down apace.
Aghaft he wak'd, and ftarting from his Bed,
Cold Sweats, in clammy Drops his Limbs o'er-fpread.
His knocking Knees are bent beneath the Load,
And thiv'ring Cold congeals his vital Blood.
The pale Affiftants on each other ftar'd,
With gaping Mouths for iffuing Words prepar'd:
The ftill-born Sounds upon the Palate hung,
And dy'd imperfect on the fault'ring Tongue. Dryd.Theod.&Hon. I feel my Sinews flacken'd with the Fright,
And a cold Sweat trills down all o'er my Limbs,
As if I were diffolving into Water.
At thy dread Anger the fix'd World fhall fhake,
And frighted Nature her own Laws forfake;
Do thou but threat, loud Storms fhall make Reply,
And Thunder, echo'd to the trembling Sky;
While warring Seas fwell to fo bold a Height,
As fhall the Fires proud Element affright:
Th'old drudging Sun from his long-beaten Way
Shall at thy Voice ftart, and mifguide the Day.
The jocund Orbs fhall break their meafur'd Pace,
And ftubborn Poles change their allotted Place.
Heav'n's gilded Troops fhall flutter here and there,
Leaving their boafting Songs tun'd to a Sphere :
Nay their God too-For fear he did, when we
Took noble Arms against his Tyranny:
So noble Arms, and in a Caufe fo great,
That Triumph they deferve for their Defeat.
[Spoken by Envy to the Devil.] With that, with his long Tail he lafh'd his Breaft, And horribly fpoke out in Looks the reft. The quaking Pow'rs of Night stood in amaze, And at each other firft, could only gaze: A dreadful Silence fill'd the hollow Space, Doubling the native Terrour of Hell's Face. Rivers of flaming Brimftone, which before So loudly rag'd, crept foftly by the Shore:
No Hifs of Snakes, no Clank of Chains was known,
The Souls amidft their Tortures durft not groan. ̧
The filver Moon with Terrour paler grew,
And neighb'ring Hermon fweated flow'ry Dew.
The Stars, amaz'd, ran backward from the Sight;
And, fhrunk within their Sockets, loft their Light. Dryd. Ovid. Who would believe what ftrange Bug-bears
Mankind creates it felf of Fears!
That spring, like Fern, that infect Weed,
Equivocally, without Seed;
And have no poffible Foundation,
But meerly in th'Imagination.
And yet can do more dreadful Feats,
Than Hags, with all their Imps and Teats:
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves,
Than all the Nurseries of Elves.
For Fear does Things fo like a Witch,
'Tis hard t'unriddle which is which.
Sets up Communities of Senfes,
To chop and change Intelligences:
As Roficrufian Virtuofis
Can fee with Ears, and hear with Nofes;
And when they neither fee nor hear,
Have more than both fupply'd by Fear:
That makes them in the Dark fee Visions,
And hag themselves with Apparitions ;
And when their Eyes difcover leaft,
Difcern the fubtleft Objects best.
Do Things not contrary alone
To th'Force of Nature, but its own:
The Courage of the braveft daunt,
And turn Poltroons to valiant:
For Men as refolute appear
With too much, as too little Fear;
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