'Tis balm to life, and gratitude to Heav'n; How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd! The love of pleasure is man's eldest born, Born in his cradle, living to his tomb; Wisdom, her youngest sister, though more grave, Was meant to minister, and not to mar, Imperial Pleasure, queen of human hearts.
Lorenzo, thou, her majesty's renown'd, Though uncoift, counsel, learned in the world! Who think'st thyself a Murray, with disdain Mayst look on me. Yet, my Demosthenes!* Canst thou plead pleasure's cause as well as I ? Know'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage? Attend my song, and thou shalt know them all; And know thyself; and know thyself to be (Strange truth!) the most abstemious man alive. Tell not Calista ! she will laugh thee dead; Or send thee to her hermitage with L Absurd presumption! Thou who never knew'st A serious thought! shalt thou dare dream of joy? No man e'er found a happy life by chance, Or yawn'd it into being with a wish; Or, with the snout of grov'ling appetite, E'er smelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. An art it is, and must be learnt; and learnt With unremitting effort, or be lost: And leave us perfect blockheads in our bliss. The clouds may drop down titles and estates; Wealth may seek us? but wisdom must be sought; Sought before all; but (how unlike all else We seek on earth!) 'tis never sought in vain. [see; First, pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and grandeur Brought forth by wisdom, nurs'd by discipline, By patience taught, by perseverance crown'd, She rears her head majestic; round her throne, * A famous Grecian orater.
Erected in the bosom of the just, Each virtue, listed, forms her manly guard. For what are virtues? (formidable name!) What, but the fountain, or defence of joy? [mands Why, then, commanded? Need mankind comAt once to merit, and to make, their bliss?Great Legislator! scarce so great, as kind! If men are rational, and love delight, Thy gracious law but flatters human choice: In the transgression lies the penalty; And they the most indulge who most obey. Of pleasure next the final cause explore; Its mighty purpose, its important end. Not to turn human brutal, but to build Divine on human, pleasure came from heav'n. In aid to reason was the goddess sent; To call up all its strength by such a charm, Pleasure first succours virtue; in return, Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign. What but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith, Supports life nat'ral, civil, and divine? 'Tis from the pleasure of repast, we live; 'Tis from the pleasure of applause, we please; 'Tis from the pleasure of belief, we pray, (All prayer would cease, if unbelieved the prize;) It serves ourselves, our species, and our God; And to serve more, is past the sphere of man. Glide then, for ever, pleasure's sacred stream! Through Eden, as Euphrates ran, it runs, And fosters ev'ry growth of happy life; Makes a new Eden where it flows-but such As must be lost, Lorenzo, by thy fall.
What mean I by thy fall?"-Thou'lt shortly see, While pleasure's nature is at large display'd; Already sung her origin and ends.
Those glorious ends, by kind, or by degrees,
When pleasure violates 'tis then a vice, And vengeance too; it hastens into pain: From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy; From wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death; Heav'n's justice this proclaims, and that her love. What greater evil can I wish my foe, Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask Unbroach'd by just authority, ungauged By temperance, by reason unrefined? A thousand demons lurk within the lees. Heav'n, others, and ourselves! Uninjured these, Drink deep; the deeper, then, the more divine; Angels are angels from indulgence there; 'Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god.
Dost think thyself a god from other joys? A victim rather! shortly sure to bleed. The wrong must mourn: can Heav'n's appointments Can man out-wit Omnipotence? strike out [fail? A self-wrought happiness unmeant by him Who made us, and the world we would enjoy? Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence Its dissonance, or harmony, shall rise. Heav'n bid the soul this mortal frame inspire; Bid virtue's ray divine inspire the soul With unprecarious flows of vital joy; And, without breathing, man as well might hope For life, as without piety, for peace.
Is virtue then, and piety the same?" No; piety is more; 'tis virtue's source; Mother of ev'ry worth, as that of joy. Men of the world this doctrine ill digest : They smile at piety; yet boast aloud Good-will to men; nor know they strive to part What nature joins; and thus confute themselves, With piety begins all good on earth; 'Tis the first-born of rationality.
Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies, Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good; A feign'd affection bounds her utmost pow'r. Some we can't love, but for the Almighty's sake; A foe to God, was ne'er true friend to man. Some sinister intent taints all he does; And in his kindest actions he's unkind, On piety humanity is built; And, on humanity, much happiness; And yet still more on piety itself.
A soul in commerce with her God, is heav'n; Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life; The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart. A Deity believed, is joy begun; A Deity adored, is joy advanced; A Deity beloved, is joy matured. Each branch of piety delight inspires;
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides; Praise the sweet exhalation of our joy, That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still; Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream Of glory on the consecrated hour Of man, in audience with the Deity. Who worships the great God, that instant joins The first in heav'n, and sets his foot on hell.
Lorenzo, when wast thou at church before? Thou think'st the service long; but is it just? Though just, unwelcome; thou hadst rather tread Unhallow'd ground; the Muse, to win thine ear, Must take an air less solemn. She complies, Good conscience! at the sound the world retires: Verse disaffects it, and Lorenzo smiles; Yet has she her seraglio full of charms: And such as age shall heighten not impair. Art thou dejected? Is thy mind o'ercast?
Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest choose, To chase thy gloom-Go, fix some weighty truth; Chain down some passion; do some gen'rous good; Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile; Correct thy friend; befriend thy greatest foe; Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, Spring up, and lay strong hold on him who made
Thy gloom is scattered, sprightly spirits flow, Though wither'd is thy vine and harp unstrung.
Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, Loud mirth, mad laughter? Wretched comforters! Physicians! more than half of thy disease. Laughter, though never censured yet as sin (Pardon a thought that only seems severe), Is half immortal: is it much indulged? By venting spleen, or dissipating thought, It shews a scorner, or it makes a fool; And sins, as hurting others, as ourselves. 'Tis pride, or emptiness, applies the straw, That tickles little minds to mirth effuse; Of grief approaching, the portentous sign! The house of laughter makes a house of woe. A man triumphant is a monstrous sight; A man dejected is a sight as mean. What cause for triumph, where such ills abound? What for dejection, where presides a pow'r Who call'd us into being to be blest; So grieve, as conscious, grief may rise to joy: So joy, as conscious, joy to grief may fall. Most true, a wise man never will be sad: But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth, A shallow stream of happiness betray: Too happy to be sportive, he's serene.
Yet wouldst thou laugh (but at thy own expense) This counsel strange should I presume to give
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