Like doctors thus, when much difpute has
We find our tenets juit the fame at last. [pais'd, P. What riches give us, let us then is
Both fairly owning, riches in effect
Meat, fire, and clothes. B. What more?
No grace of Heaven, or token of th' elect;
clothes, and fire.
Given to the fooi, the mad, the vain, the evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil.
B. What nature wants, commodious gold be-
'Tis thus we eat the bread another fows. [flows;
P. But how unequal it bestows obferve,
'Tis thus we riot, while who fow it starve:
What nature wants (a phrate I must diftruft)
Extends to luxury, extends to luft:
Lieful, I grant, it ferves what life requires;
But, dreadful too, the dark affilia hires.

B. Trade it may help, fociety extend:
P. But luces the pirate, and corrupts the friend.

A&tor that would fave the life Shylock, fpite of Shylock's wife: as die, without or this or that; dertow a college, or a cat!

Heaven grants the happier fate, abatard, or a fon they hate.

Lefs mad the wildeft whimfy we can frame,
Than even that paffion, if it has no aim;
For though fuch motives folly you may call,
The folly's greater to have none at all.

Hear then the truth: "Tis heaven each paffion
fends,

66

As you think the poor might have their" And diff'rent men directs to diff'rent ends. [heart." Extremes in nature equal good produce; poor, and hates them from his " Extremes in man concur to gen'ral ufe."

Gubert holds it for a rule, ain want is knave or fool: For fays Blunt, with tearlefs eyes) e farves and pioufly denies: *fullhop, with a meeker air, enves them, Providence's care. to thele poor men of pelf, Pute Lis neighbour as himfelf: emires, an qual fate betides Mit, and the fave that hides. thu thur, mere charity fhould own, tives powerful, tho' unknown what plugue, or famine they forefee, hid from you and ins.

wants a meal, the caule is found;
sabef will rife to fifty pound.
directors cheat in South-fea year?
valion when it fold fo dear,
Paryne the whole auction buys?
eet a general excife.
appho raise that monftrous fum?
fear a man will coft a plum.
Fakes the world's refpect for gold,
hopes this nation may be fold:
Huom! Peter, fwell thy ftore,
* Rome', great Didius was before.
of Poland, venal twice an age,
ions ftinted modelt Gage.
os Maria's dreams unfold,
ms, and worlds of gold.
! whole life one av'rice joins,
bais in th' Auftrian mines.

Bunt! whybearshe Britain'shate?
in in thefe words our fate:
Serruption, like a gen'ral flood
Sy watchful minilters withstood),

e all, and av'rice, creeping on,
alow-born miit, and blot the fun;
and patriot ply alike the ftocks,
abutler fhare alike the box,

, and bishops bite the town, dakes pack cards for half a crown. tunk in lucre's fordid charms. race rever'd of Anne's and Edward's

Aik we what makes one keep, and one beftow?
That Pow'r who bids the ocean ebb and flow,
Bids feed-time, harvest, equal courfe maintain,
Thro' reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain,
Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
Andgives th'eternal wheels toknowtheir rounds,

Riches, like infects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their feafon fly.
Who fees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward fteward for the poor:
This year a refervoir, to keep and fpare;
The next, a fountain, fpouting thro' his heir,
In lavith itreams to quench a country's thirft;
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.

Old Cotta than'd his fortune and his birth,
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:
What tho' (the use of barb'rous spits forgot)
His kitchen vied in coelaets with his grot?
His court with nettles, moa's with croifes ftor'd,
With foups unbought and falads bleft his board?
If Cotta liv'd on pulfe, it was no more
Than Bramins, Saints, and Sages did before;
To cram the rich was prodigal expence;
And who would take the poor from Providence?
Like fomeloneChartreuxftands the good old hall,
Silence without, and faits within the wall:
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor found,
No noontide bell invites the country round:
Tenants with fighs the fmokelefs tow`rs furvey,
And turn th' unwilling fteeds another way:
Benighted wanderers, the foreft o'er,
Curfe the fav'd candle, and unop'ning door;
While the gaunt mattiff, growling at the gate,
Affrights the beggar, whom he longs to eat.

Not to his fon, he mark'd this overfight,
And then mistook reverfe of wrong for right.
(For what to fhun will no great knowledge need;
But what to follow is a talk indeed.)
Yet fure, of qualities deferving praife,
More go to ruin fortunes than to raife.
What ilaughter'd hecatombs, with floods of wine,
Fill the capacious 'fquire, and deep divine!
Yet no mean motive this profufion draws,
His oxen perifh in his country's caufe;
[brain, "Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup,
And zeal for that great houfe which eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked feat,
The fylvans groan-no matter-for the fleet:
Next goes his wool-to clothe our valiant bands:
Laft, for his country's love, he fells his lands.
To town he comes, completes the nation's hope,
And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a

magpat badge, great Scriv`ner! fir'd thy
Ty, nor city gain:

tecus end, afham'd to fee
6, patriots difgroe,
S party-ge to cease,
ts, and give thy country peace.
is madness," cries a fober fage:
my friend, has reafon in his rage?
gpallion, be it what it will,

Mastung pailiou conquers reafon till.”

pope.

And fhall not Britain now reward his toils,
Britain, that pays her patriots with her fpoils?

In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his caufe;
His thankless country leaves him to her laws.

The sense to value riches, with the art
T'enjoy them, and the virtue to impart,
Not meanly, nor ambitiously purfued,
Not funk by floth, nor rais'd by fervitude;
To balance fortune by a juft expence,
Join with economy, magnificence;
With fplendour, charity; with plenty, health!
Oh teach us, Bathurft! yet unfpoil'd by wealth!
That fecret rare, between the extremes to move,
Of mad good-nature, and of mean felf-love.
B. To worth or want well weigh'd be bounty
And eafe or emulate the care of Heaven; [given,
(Whose measure full o'erflows on human race)
Mend fortune's fault, and juftify her grace.
Wealth in the grofs is death, but life diffus'd;
As poifon heals, in just proportion us'd:
In heaps, like ambergris, a ftink it lies:
But well difpers'd is incenfe to the skies.

P. Who ftarves by nobles, or with nobles eats? | The wretch that trufts them, and the rogue that cheats.

Is there a lord, who knows a cheerful noon
Without a fiddler, flatt'rer, or buffoon?
Whofe table wit or modeft merit share,
Unelbow'd by a gamefter, pimp, or play'r?
Who copies yours, or Oxford's better part,
To eafe th' oppreft, and raise the finking heart?
Where'er he fhines, O fortune gild the scene,
And angels guard him in the golden mean!
There English bounty yet awhile may stand,
And honour linger ere it leaves the land.

But all our praises why fhould lords engrofs?
Rife, honeft Mufe! and fing the Man of Rofs:
Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro' her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause refounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain's fultry
brow?

From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in ufelefs columns toft,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
But clear and artlefs, pouring through the plain
Health to the fick, and folace to the fwain.
Whofe caufeway parts the vale with fhady rows?
Whofe feats the weary traveller repofe?
Who taught that heaven directed fpire to rife?
"The Man of Rofs," each lifping babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor o'erfpread!
The Man of Rofs divides the weekly bread:
He feeds yon alms-houfe, neat, but void of state,
Where age and want fit fmiling at the gate;
Himportion'dmaids,apprentic'd orphans blefs'd,
The young who labour, and the old who reft.
Is any fick? the Man of Rofs relieves,
Prefcribes,attends,the med cinemakes, and gives,
Is there a variance? enter but his door,
Balk'd are the courts, and conteft is no more.
Despairing quacks with curfes fled the place,
And vile attorneys, now an ufelefs race.

B. Thrice happy man enabled to purfue
What all fo with, but want the pow'r to do!
Oh fay, what fums that gen'rous hand fupply?
What mines to fwell that boundlefs charity?

P. Of debts and taxes, wife and children
This man poffefs'd five hundred pounds a
Bluth, grandeur, blush! proud courts, with
your blaze!

Ye little stars! hide your diminish'd rays.
B. Andwhat? no monument,infcription,
His race, his form, his name almost unknow
P.Who builds a church toGod,and not to
Will never mark the marble with his nam
Go, fearch it there, where to be born and
Of rich and poor makes all the hiftory;
Enough, that virtue fill'd the space betwee
Prov'd by the ends of being, to have bee
When Hopkins dies, a thoufand lights att
The wretch, who living fav'd a candle's e
Should'ring God's altar a vile image ftand
Belies his features, nay extends his hands;
That live-long wig which Gordon's felf
Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone.
Behold what bleffings wealth to life can le
And see what comfort it affords our end.
In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half
The floors of plaifter, and the walls of du
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with t
With tape-tied curtains, never meant to d
The George and Garter dangling from the
Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty re
Great Villiers lies-alas! how chang'd from
That life of pleasure, and that foul of whi
Galint and gay, in Cliveden's proud alc
The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and lo
Or just as gay, at council, in a ring
Of mimic ftatefmen, and their merry king
No wit to flatter left of all his ftore!
No fool to laugh at, which, he valued mor
There, victor of his health, of fortune, frie
And fame-this lord of useless thousands e

His grace's fate fage Cutler could forefe
And well (he thought) advis'd him, "Live

"me."

As well his grace replied, "Like you, Sir!
"That I can do, when all I have is gone.
Refolve me, Reafon, which of thefe is wor
Want with a full, or with an empty purfe
Thy life more wretched, Cutler, was confe
Arife, and tell me, was thy death more ble
Cutler faw tenants break, and houses fall,
For very want; he could not build a wall.
His only daughter in a stranger's pow'r,
For very want; he could not pay a dow'r.
A few grey hairs his rev'rend temples crow
'Twas very want that fold them for two po
What even denied a cordial at his end,
Banifh'd the doctor, and expell'd the friend
What but a want, which you perhaps think
Yet numbers feel the want of what he had
Cutler and Brutus, dying, both exclaim,
Virtue! and wealth! what are ye but a nar
Say, for fuch worth are other worlds prepa
Or are they both in this their own reward
A knotty point! to which we now proceed
But you are tir'd—I'll tell a tale-B. Agree

P. Where London's column, pointing at
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies;

Τ

Thee dwet citizen of sober fame,
A good man, and Balaam was his name;
Repos, panctual, frugal, and so forth;
Hard would pafs for more than he was worth.
ad dif his week-day meal affords,
And added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's;
Chart at church and "change; his gains were
fore,

Es gings me, fave farthings to the poor.
The des piqu'd fuch faintfhip to behold,
Ang tempt him, like good job of old:
Bis wifer than of yore,
Aby making rich, not making poor.
prince of air, the whirlwinds tweep
and plunge his father in the deep;
int his Cornish lands they roar,
ich fhipwrecks blefs the lucky fhore.
now, he lives like other folks;
schirping pint, and cracks his jokes:
yourfelf," was foon my lady's word;
two puddings fmok'd upon the board.
May and naked as an Indian lay,
at factor ftole a gem away;
-git to the knight; the knight had wit,
be diamond, and the rogue was bit.
lerofe, but thus he eas'd his thought:
give fixpence where I gave a groat
ace I went to church, I'll now go

* twice,

EPISTLE IV.

To Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington.
'Tis ftrange, the mifer fhould his cares employ
To gain thofe riches he can ne'er enjoy :
Is it lefs ftrange, the prodigal should wafte
His wealth, to purchase what he ne'er can taste ?
Nor for himfelf he fees, or hears, or eats;
Artifts mutt choose his pictures, mufic, meats:
He buys for Topham, drawings and defigns;
For Pembroke ftatues, dirty gods, and coins;
Rare monkish manuscripts for Heame alone;
And books for Mead, and butterflies for Sloane.
Think we all thefe are for himself? No more
Than his fine wife, alas! or finer whore.

;|

fo clear too of all other vice." pter faw his time; the work he plied; d fubfcriptions pour on ev'ry fide, the damon makes his full defcent endant thow'r of cent. per cent. ep within him, and poffeffes whole, drrector, and fecures his foul. Balaam, now a man of spirit, gettings to his parts and merit; call'd a bleffing, now was wit, good providence, a lucky hit. nge their titles, as our manners turn: ting-houfe employ'd the Sunday morn: church ('twas such a bufy life), fent his family and wife.

For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to fhew how many taftes he wanted.
What brought Sir Vitto's ill-got wealth to waste?
Some dæmon whisper'd, "Vifto! have a taste."
Heaven vifits with a taste the wealthy fool,
And needs no rod but Ripley with a rule.
See! fportive fate, to punish awkward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and fends him fuch a guide:
A ftanding fermon, at each year's expence,
That never coxcomb reach'd magnificence!

to the devil ordain'd) one Christmas-tide od old lady catch'd a cold, and died. aph of quality admires our knight; ts, bows at court, and grows polite; he dull cits, and joins (to please the fair) -bred cuckolds in St. James's air: his fon a gay commiffion buys, drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel dies. ghter flaunts a vifcount's tawdry wife; Para coronet and p-x for life. in's fenate he a feat obtains, he more penfioner St. Stephen gains. ty fails to play: fo bad her chance, at repair it; takes a bribe from France; Hale npeach him, Coningby harangues; Cort tortake him, and Sir Balaam hangs, on, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, alth, yet dearer, forfeit to the crown;

evil and the king divide the prize, Ad Sir Balaam curies God and dies.

You show us Rome was glorious, not profufe,
And pompous buildings once were things of ufe.
Yet thall (my Lord) your juft, your noble rules
Fill half the land with imitating fools; [take,
Who random drawings from your fheets fhall
And of one beauty many blunders make;
Load fome vain church with old theatric state;
Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gate;
Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all
On fome patch'd dog-hole ek'd with ends of wall;
Then clap four flices of pilafter on 't,
That, lac'd with bits of ruftic, makes a front:
Shall call the winds thro' long arcades to roar,
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
Confcious they act a true Palladian part,
And if they ftarve, they starve by rules of art.

Cft have you hinted to your brother peer,
A certain truth, which many buy too dear:
Something there is more needful than expenfe,
And fomething previous ev'n to tafte-'tis fenfe:
Good fenfe, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And, and tho' no fcience, fairly worth the feven:
A light, which in yourself you must perceive;
Jones and Le Nôtre have it Bot to give.

To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the column, or the arch to bend,
To fwell the terrace, or to fink the grot;
In all, let nature never be forgot;

But treat the goddess like a modest fair,
Nor over-drefs, nor leave her wholly bare;
Let not each beauty ev'ry where be tpied,
Where half the fkill is decently to hide.
He gains all points who pleafingly confounds
Suprifes, varies, and conceals the bounds.

Confult the genius of the place in all;
That tells the waters or to rife or fall;
Or help th' ambitious hill the heavens to fcale,
Or fcoops in circling theatres the vale;
S3
Calls

Calls in the country, catching op'ning glades,
Joins willingwoods,and variesthades from hades;
Now breaks, or now directs, th' intending lines;
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, defigns.
Still follow fenfe, of ev'ry art the foul,
Parts answering parts thall ilide into a whole;
Spontaneous beauties all around advance,
Start ev'n from difficulty, strike from chance;
Nature fhall join you; time fhall make it grow
A work to wonder at-perhaps a Stow.
Without it, proud Verfailles! thy glory falls;
And Nero's terraces defert their walls:
The vast parterres a thousand hands fhall make,
Lo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake:
Or cut wide views thro' mountains to the plain,
You'll with your hill or thelter'd feat again.
Ev'n in an ornament its place remark,
Nor in an hermitage fet Dr. Clarke.
Behold Villario's ten years toil complete;
His Quincunx darkens, his Espaliers meet;
The wood fupports the plain, the parts unite,
And strength of fhade contends with ftrength of
A waving glow the bloomy beds difplay, [light;
Blushing in bright diverfities of day,
With filver-quiv'ring rills meander'd o'er-
Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more;
Tir'd of the fcene parterres and fountains yield,
He finds at laft he better likes a field.

Thro' his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus
Or fate delighted in the thick ning fhade, [ftray'd,
With annual joy the redd'ning fhoots to greet,
Or fee the ftretching branches long too meet !
His fon's fine tafte an op'ner vilta loves,
Foe to the dryads of his father's groves;
One boundles green, or flourish'd carpet views,
With all the mournful family of yews;
The thriving plants, ignoble broom flicks made,
Now fweep thofe alleys they were born to fhade.
At Timon's villa let us pafe a day, [away!
Where all cry out, "What fums are thrown
So proud, fo grand; of that itupendous air,
Soft and agreeable come never there.
Greatnefs, with Timon, dwells in fuch a draught
As brings all Brobdignag before your thought.
To compals this, his building is a town,
His pond an ocean, his parterre a down:
Who but mult laugh, the maiter when he fees,
A puny infect, fhiv'ring at a breeze!
Lo, what huge heaps of littienes around!
'The whole a labour'd quarry above ground.
Two Cupids fquirt before: a lake behind
Improves the keennefs of the northern wind.
His gardens next your admiration call;
On evry fide veu look, behold the wall!
No pleating intricacies intervene,

No artful wildncts to perplex the scene;
Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
And half the platform juit reflects the other.
The tuff 'ring eye inverted nature fees,
Trees cut to Ratues, ftatues thick as trees;
With here a fountain never to be play'd;
And there a fummer-house that knows no fhade;
Pere Amphitrite fails thro' myrtle bow'rs;
There gladiators fight, or die in flow'rs;

Unwater'd fee the drooping fea-horfe mou
And fwallows rooft in Nilus' dufty urn.
My lord advances with majestic mien,
Smit with the mighty pleature to be iten
But foft-by regular approach-not yet-
Fit thro' the length of yon hot terrace
Andwhen up ten fleep flopes you've draga
Juft at his study door he'll blessyour eye.

His study with what authors is it f
In books, not authors, curious is my le
To all their dated backs he turns you
Thefe Aldus printed, thofe Du Sueil nas
Lo, fome are vellum; and the relt ås go.
For all his lordship knows, but they are w
For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to lock
Thele fhelves admit not any modern bo

And now the chapel's filver bell you h
That fummons you to all the pride of pr
Light quirks of mufic, broken and unev
Make the foul dance upon a jig to heaver
On painted ceilings you devoutly ftare,
Where fprawl the faints of Verrio or Lg
Or gilded clouds in fair expanfion lie,
And bring all Paradife before your eye.
To reft the cushion and foft dean invite,
Who never mentions hell to ears polite.

But hark! the chining clocks to dinner
A hundred footsteps fcrape the marble h
The rich buffet well-colour'd ferpents g⠀⠀
And gaping Tritons fpew to wath your
Is this a dinner? this a genial room?
No, 'tis a temple, and a hecatomb!
A folemn facrifice, perform'd in itate;
You drink by measure, and to minutes
So quick retires each flying courfe, you'd
[Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were:
Between each act the trembling falvers ra
From foup to fweet-wine, and God bless the
In plenty ftarving, tantaliz'd in fate,
And complaifantly help'd to all I hate,
Treated, carefs'd, and tir d, I take my ka
Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve;
i curie fuch lavish coft, and little kill,
And fwear no day was ever pais'd fo ill!

Yet hence the poor are cloth'd, the hun
Health to himself, and to his infants bre
The lab'rer bears: what his hard heart de
His charitable vanity fupplies.

Another age fhall fee the golden ear Imbrown the flope, and nod on the parterre. Deep harvelt bury all his pride has plann And laughing Ceres re-affume the land.

Who then thall grace, or who improve ta Who plants like Bathurft, or who bulk 'Tis ufe alone that fanctifies expenie, [b And fplendour borrows all her rays from it.

His father's acres who enjoys in peace, Or makes his neighbour glad, if he incit Whofe cheerful tenants blefs their yes.lt Yet to their lord owe more than to the o Whofe ample lawns are not afham'd to f The milky heifer and deferving feeds Whofe ring forefts, not for price or how, But future buildings, future havies, grow,