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Breathes in our Soul, informs our mortal Part,
As full, as perfect, in a Hair, as Heart;
As full, as perfect in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt Seraphim that fings and burns ;
To him no high, no low, no great, no small
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Cease then, nor ORDER Imperfection name :
Our proper Blifs depends on what we blame.
Know thy own Point: This kind, this due Degree 275
Of Blindness, Weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
in this, or any other Sphere,

Submit

Secure to be as bleft as thou canft bear:

Safe in the Hand of one difpofing Pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal Hour.

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All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;

All Chance, Direction which thou canft not fee:

All Discord, Harmony not understood;

All partial Evil, univerfal Good:

And spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spight,

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One Truth is clear, "Whatever Is, is Right,"

The End of the firft EPISTLE.

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AN

ESSAY

ON

M A N.

K

EPISTLE II.

NOW then Thy-felf, prefume not God to scan; The only Science of Mankind is Man. Plac'd on this Ifthmus of a middle State, A Being darkly Wife, and rudely great: With too much Knowledge for the Sceptic Side, With too much Weakness for a Stoic's Pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or reft, To deem himself a Part of God, or Beast, In doubt, his Mind or Body to prefer, Born but to die, and Reas'ning but to err, Alike in Ignorance, his Reason fuch, Whether he thinks too little, or too much. Chaos of Thought and Paffion, all confus'd, Still by himself abus'd, or dis-abus'd : C

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Created

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Created half to rife, and half to fall;
Great Lord of all Things; yet a Prey to all
Sole Judge of Truth, in endless Error hurl'd:
The Glory, Jeft, and Riddle of the World!

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Go, wondrous Creature' mount where Science guides,
Go, measure Earth, weigh Air, and ftate the Tides; 20
Inftruct the Planets in what Orbs to run,
Correct old Time, and regulate the Sun.

Go foar with Plato to th' empyreal Sphere,
To the first Good, first Perfect, and first Fair;
Or tread the mazy Round his Followers trod,
And quitting Senfe, call Imitating God:
As Eastern Priests in giddy Circles run,
And turn their Heads to imitate the Sun.
Go teach eternal Wisdom how to rule;
Then drop into Thyfelf, and be a Fool!
Superior Beings, when of late they faw
A mortal Man unfold all Nature's Law,
Admir'd fuch Wisdom in an earthly Shape,
And fhow'd a NEWTON, as we show an Ape.
Could he, who taught each Planet how to roll,
Describe, or fix one Movement of the Soul?
Who mark'd their Points, to rise, and to descend,
Explain his own Beginning, or his End?
Alas, what Wonder! Man's fuperior Part
Uncheck'd may rife, and climb from Art to Art;
But when his own great Work is but begun,
What Reason waves, by Paffion is undone.

Two Principles in human Nature reign;
Self-Love, to urge; and Reafon to restrain:
Nor this a Good, nor that a Bad we call :
Each works its End, to move, or govern
And to their proper Operation ftill
Afcribe all Good, to their improper Ill.

all:

Self-Love, the Spring of Motion, acts the Soul;

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Reafon's comparing Balance rules the Whole;

Man, but for that, no Action could attend,

And but for this, were active to no End.

Fix'd like a Plant, on his peculiar Spot,

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To draw Nutrition, propagate, and rot;

Or Meteor-like, flame lawless through the Void, 55 Destroying others, by himself deftroy'd.

Moft

Moft Strength the moving Principle requires,
Active its Talk, it prompts, impels, inspires:
Secure and quiet the comparing lies,

Form'd but to check, delib'rate, and advise.
Self-Love ftill ftronger, as it's Objects nigh;
Reafon's at diftance, and in Profpect lie;
That fees immediate Good, by prefent Senfe,
Reason, the future, and the Confequence;
Thicker than Arguments, Temptations throng,
At beft more watchful this, but that more frong.
The Action of the ftronger to fufpend,
Reafon still use, to Reason still attend ;
Attention, Habit and Experience gains,

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Each ftrengthens Reafon, and Self-Love reftrains.
Let fubtle School-men teach their Friends to fight,

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More ftudious to divide, than to unite ;
And Grace and Virtue, Senfe and Reason split,
With all the rafh Dexterity of Wit.

Wits, juft like Fools, at War about a Name,
Have, full as oft, no Meaning, or the fame.
Self-Love and Reafon to one End afpire,
Pain their Averfion, Pleasure their Defire ;
But greedy that its Object would devour,
This tafte the Honey, and not wound the Flow'r.
Pleasure, or wrong, or rightly understood,
Our greatest Evil, or our greatest Good.

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Modes of Self-Love the PASSIONS we may call;

'Tis real Good, or feeming, moves them all:

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But fince not every Good we can divide,
And Reafon bids us for our own provide ;
Paffions, tho' Selfish, if their Means be fair,
Lift under Reafon, and deferve her Care:
Thofe that imparted, court a nobler Aim,
Exalt their Kind, and take fome Virtue's Name.
In lazy Apathy, let Stoics boast

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Their Virtue fix'd, 'tis fix'd as in a Froft,
Contracted all, retiring to the Breaft;
But Strength of Mind is Exercife, not Reft;:
The rifing Tempeft puts in act the Soul,
Parts it may ravage, but preferves the Whole.
On Life's vaft Ocean diverfely we fail,
Reafon the Card, but Paffion is the Gale:

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Nor God alone in the ftill Calm we find,

He mounts the Storm, and walks upon the Wind.
Paffions, like Elements, tho' born to fight,
Yet mix'd and foftn'd, in His Work unite:
These, 'tis enough to temper and employ,
But what compofes Man, can Man destroy?
Suffice that Reafon keep to Nature's Road,
Subject, compound them, follow her, and God.

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Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's fmiling Train,
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the Family of Pain;
Thefe mix'd with Art, and to due Bourds confin'd,
Make, and maintain, the Balance of the Mind:
The Lights and Shades, whose well accorded Strife
Gives all the Strength and Colour of our Life.

Pleasures are ever in our Hands or Eyes,
And when in Act they ceafe, in Profpect rife;
Prefent to grafp, and future ftill to find,
The whole Employ of Body and of Mind.
All fpread their Charms, but charm not all alike ;
On diff'rent Senfes diff'rent Objects ftrike:
Hence diff'rent Paffions more or less inflame,
As ftrong, or weak, the Organs of the Frame;
And hence one Mafter Paffion, in the Breast,
Like Aaron's Serpent, fwallows up the reft.
As Man, perhaps the Moment of his Breath,
Receives the lurking Principle of Death;
The young Disease, that muft fubdue at length,

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Grows with his Growth, and ftrengthens with his Strength;

So, caft and mingled with his very Frame,

The Mind's Difeafe, it's ruling Paffion came:

Each vital Humour, which should feed the Whole,
Soon flows to this, in Body and in Soul;

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Whatever warms the Heart, or fills the Head,
As the Mind opens, and its Functions spread,
Imagination plies her dang'rous Art,

And pours it all upon the peccant Part.
Nature is Mother, Habit is it's Nurse;
Wit, Spirit, Faculties, but make it worse;
Reason itself but gives it Edge and Pow'r,

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As Heav'ns blefs'd Beam turns Vinegar more fow'r;
We, wretched Subjects, tho' to lawful Sway,

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In this weak Queen, fome Fav'rite ftill obey.

Ah!

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