These are the ends for which afflictions came, 265 To rouze our reason, and our paffions tame; To fet fair Virtue in her proper light,
And fix the wavering attention right.
What tho' your part amid' the gen'ral scene,
Too high or hard appear, too low or mean; 270
Befet with wants, with cares and fears opprest,
The fport of fortune, and of men the jeft:
Yet wait awhile, whatever chance befal,
Heav'n's ways are equal, thine unequal all.
Here but as ftrangers journeying for a space, 275
To feek fome fure, fome diftant refting-place;
Some perils by the way we must endure,
The cruel robber, and the night obscure.
Yet, arm'd with Patience, let us boldly dare,
The end is certain, and the prospect fair.
He, who proportions largely all our gain,
Weighs ev'ry lofs, and counts out ev'ry pain;
Sees all our frailties, measures duft by duft,
In all he gives and takes, fupremely just :
That pow'r eternal will our steps befriend, 285
And guide us fafely to our journey's end;
Where ev'ry pang, where ev'ry fear shall cease,
And each immortal guest subside to peace.
To him who fuffer'd well, will much be giv'n,
And Patience wear the brightest wreath in Heav'n.
For you, my Lord, in various conflicts seen, Not spoil'd with peevishness, nor fow'rd with spleen, The best of tempers, and the best of men:
you, alas! one trial yet remains;
O fuffer righteously these proving strains!
And if unmov'd, unruffled you can hear,
What Patience' felf perchance could hardly bear ;
If yet this forer trial you furvive,
Your Lordship is the patient'ft man alive.
An Epiftle to the Hon. Mifs LOVELACE.
HENCE these impetuous movements of
the breaft?
Why beat our hearts, unknowing where to reft?
Must we ftill long untasted joys to taste,
Pant for the future, yet regret the past?
Can reason, can a ftoic's pride control
This unremitting fickness of the foul?
Reason! what's that, when lawless Paffion rules?
The jest of sense, and jargon of the schools.
Some few perhaps have by its lore been taught
To think, and wish, just only what they ought:
Sufficient to themselves, their wants are fuch,
They neither ask amifs, nor wish too much.
Here freedom dwells, and revels unconfin'd,
With plenty, ease, and indolence of mind;
True greatness, wisdom, virtue, hence must rise;
And here that home-felt joy, Contentment, lies.
O Thou! for whom my fancy prunes her wing, For whom I love to tune the trembling string, What would we more than wisdom, virtue, ease? Tell, if you can, for you're content with thefe.
Why reason fome, and fome why paffion rules,
Is because fome are wife, and fome are fools;
Their reason and their paffion ftill at strife,
Like fome meek pair in wedlock yok'd for life :
In the fame int'reft, tugging diff'rent ways,
What one commands, the other disobeys.
Blest state! where this alone is fixt and fure,
To difagree, while fun and moon endure.
Hence listless, weary, fick, chagrin'd at home,
In search of happiness abroad we roam:
And yet the wifeft of us all have own'd,
If 'twas not there, 'twas no where to be found,
There ev'n the poor may taste felicity,
If with contentment any fuch there be.
"Monftrous! (cries Fulvia) 'twou'd a stoic vex! "For what's content without a coach and fix ?"
So humble, Fulvia! fo deferving too!
Pity such worth should unregarded go
Down on your knees again, and beg of fate,
Instead of fix, to give your chariot eight.
Elvira's paffion was a china jar;
The brute, her lord, contemns fuch brittle ware.
No matter.See! the glitt'ring columns rife,
Pile above pile, and emulate the skies.
Fresh cargoes come, fresh longings these create;
And what is twenty pieces for a plate?
Debates enfue; he brandishes his cane,
Down go the pyramids of Porcellane.
She faints, the falls, and in a figh profound,
Yeilds her high foul, and levels with the ground.
"Cruel! farewel!-(were the laft words she spoke)
"For what is life, now all my China's broke!”
Few can the ftings of Difappointment bear! One fends a curse to Heav'n, and one a pray'r; The pious motive's much the fame in both, In him that swears, and him that fears an oath.
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