[]
EPISTLES TO LORENZO.
Nec tardum operior, nec praecedentibus inſto.
LONDON, M.DCC.LVI.
ADVERTISEMENT.
[]THE following ſheets contain part of ſeveral epis⯑tolary Rhimes, written on different occaſions & in different parts of Europe. The object of the whole would be, to reconcile, within the bounds of moderation, the Zealots & Philoſophers of the preſent age.
The author is ſenſible the latter, or, as they are call'd, the advocates for natural religion, are the greater bigots of the two; & that a ſuperſtitious attachment to infidelity is the maſter-piece of Enthuſiaſm: the rapſo⯑dies of Jacob Boehmen being much more intelligible than the plain demonſtrations, of ſome modern * free⯑thinkers.
To the end propos'd, therefore, the means would be to eſtabliſh, on undiſputed principles, the certainty of thoſe maxims, which moſt affect the preſent & future happineſs of mankind.
[]With this view it is neceſſary the author ſhould wear an aſſum'd character & propoſe nothing but what Reaſon, common to all, may allow. In doing this, then, he would endeavour to ſhew the principal de⯑fects & point out the limits of the Underſtanding; to prove, a priori, the ſource of good & evil; the uni⯑verſal propriety of original ſin & the moral neceſſity of that inſeparable connection between Happineſs & miſe⯑ry, Virtue & Vice; the immortality of the ſoul being, at the ſame time, pointed out, from arguments univer⯑ſally acknowledg'd & felt.
Such is the general deſign of the author: that of the preſent publication is, to inform himſelf how far this ſpecimen may give the publick room to think him capable of the whole; or whether any part may be worth a finiſhing hand.
By the publick, alſo, he would be underſtood to mean the philoſophical part of the world only; for, as to the gentlemen of the Belles Lettres, he does not willi⯑nigly ſubject himſelf to their Cenſure; having choſen a poetical ſtile for no worſe reaſon than an incapacity to expreſs the ſame ſentiments better in any other: Confiding, therefore, in the well-bred humanity of ſuch Critics, he hopes they will not put his verſes to the Horatian torture, by pulling them to pieces, to exa⯑mine the disjecta membra Poëtae.
EPISTLE THE FIRST. to LORENZO.
[]While zeal purſues, beyond the Grave,
Whom Prieſt nor Patriot could ſave,
Loſt St. John, ſav'd and damn'd by Fame,
An honour'd & a blaſted Name;
Lorenzo aſks, ingenuous Youth,
What is, & who beleives, the truth.
Lorenzo, wouldſt thou learn of me?
Truth is where all the world agree.
[2] Is there no point where all unite?
I anſwer, none are in the right.
Yet wouldſt thou know, ſo Skepticks err,
To whom enquiry may refer;
Where trembling doubt & error blind
At once a guard & guide may find,
At once ſucceſsfully apply,
And give to Falſehood's face the Lye?
Alaſs! denied the perfect rule,
That ſerves alike the Knave & Fool,
Alike the Ignorant & the Wiſe;
Adoring theſe what thoſe deſpiſe.
Whether we judge, from Nature's Law
That Truth infallibly we draw,
[3] Or think the juſt Criterion given
In Revelation pure from Heaven,
It differs not, unleſs we find
Some active index in the mind,
Some Ray of Heaven's unerring light,
To guide in this or that aright.
Let Chriſtianity display
It's wond'rous Volume to the day;
The ſacred lines, however true,
Alike affect not me & you;
Th' accepted ſenſe of holy writ
Still reſting on th' accepting wit.
For who that read but comprehend
[4] As taught by Father, Prieſt, or Friend:
Or tenets new, more nice than wiſe,
Peculiar to themſelves deviſe.
How then prevails the ſacred text,
If by the comment thus perplex'd,
If Hereticks, of ev'ry kind,
Still in the word their Goſpel find;
Still if the ſpirit hides the flaw
That marrs the letter of the Law!
Let Nature's ſtriking ſcenes engage
The letter'd & unletter'd Age,
No fix'd Ideas yet we find
[5] Convey'd from hence to Humankind.
When meteors ſhine or Comets blaze,
Behold the wond'ring Crito gaze,
Prognoſticate, in error wiſe,
The Judgments gathering in the ſkies:
Th' Aurora ſtreaming from the Pole,
What mighty fears his Heart controul!
See him confeſs his angry God,
And dread his mercies as his rod:
Whilſt thou, Blaſphemer! Crito cries,
Liftſt up thine hand againſt the ſkies;
Fearleſs, in Scientific pride,
On the wild whirlwind's wings wouldſt ride:
When Thunder ſplits the Clouds in twain,
[6] Or Lightnings melt them into Rain,
'Gainſt Heaven itſelf ſo mad to arm,
In magick ſteel, you brave the ſtorm;
With Franklin, impiously defie
The Thunderers red right arm on high;
Bold Titan! take your mounted ſtand,
To wreſt the Light'nings from his hand.
Thus, by no certain inſtinct led,
We comprehend what's ſeen or read;
But, from unlike experience taught,
Peculiar are our modes of thought.
Doſt pauſe when Pleas of right or wrong
[7] To captious opponents belong;
While this affirm'd or that denied
With equal force on either ſide?
Avoid Lorenzo vain diſpute:
'Tis empty triumph to confute.
No Honour whets the Champion's Blade:
Truth warms no Caſuiſt by Trade.
See the wing'd Cork from ſide to ſide
Rebound, the truant ſchool boy's pride!
With equal warmth, with equal noiſe,
So Diſputants, like truant Boys,
Between what Saint or Father ſaith
Bang the light Shittlecock of Faith.
[8] Our firſt miſtake, Lorenzo, this.
All on their faith wou'd found their bliſs;
And, here while flattering hope depends,
To truth preſumptuous faith pretends.
Thus contradictions are profeſs'd,
Yet truth muſt be to all the teſt.
But tell me what connection ties
So cloſe the Happy and the Wiſe.
Ah! what avails the Truth to know,
When Truth the frequent ſource of woe;
While gilded Fiction's flattering rays
With ſunſhine beautifie our days;
Or, mildly ſhed, it's ſilver beams,
[9] Reflected, light our nightly dreams;
While Pleaſure & it's laughing train
Dance by the Moonſhine of the brain.
From hence doth bliſs or miſery flow,
The truth to know or not to know?
For bliſs in vain the Learn'd explore;
Swift as their ſearch it flies before,
Thro' ev'ry Clime, on ev'ry wind,
And leaves their panting wiſh behind.
O ſay what truth doth ſcience reach,
The Infant's peace of mind to teach!
O ſay what truth ſhall faith receive
Excluſive happineſs to give!
[10] In Pope or Mufti what is given
But fear of Hell & hope of Heaven;
A view of future bliſs or woe,
The guiding proſpect here below;
If promis'd, then, Seraphick ſkies,
Or Osman's ſenſual Paradiſe,
Or, with the Indian, taught t'aſcend
To converſe with a former friend;
Still if the tenet moves to act,
Words & Opinions bow to Fact;
To truth or Knowledge unconfin'd
The Bliſs or Woe of Humankind:
As happy thoſe who blindly truſt
In Pope, or Mufti, if as juſt;
[11] No more requir'd by gracious Heaven
Than to requiring Man is given.
Let Calvin, then, ſelecting, rave,
Or Luther ſouls unſorted ſave,
Or Peter's heir deny the Keys
Of Heav'n to Hereticks like theſe;
Rejecting thou the vain abuſe,
Know ev'ry Syſtem hath it's uſe,
Or new or old, or yours or mine,
Subſervient all to Heav'ns deſign:
Tho' truth from each be diſtant far
As Good hope from the Polar ſtar.
[12] As parts to complex Engines prove,
Inſpir'd, by Mechaniſm, to move,
This retrogade & that direct,
In diff'rent modes to one effect;
So theſe, or moral or divine,
In nature's grand machine combine.
Machine how vaſt! how loſt is man
In nature's wonder-working plan!
The reaſon this,—we ever drew
Of Nature a perſpective view;
Fix'd to one Station, Time & place,
In power no juſt ſurvey to trace.
So individuals alſo draw;
[13] Their eye their rule, their will their law.
No wonder then that wrong & right
Perplex, from various points of Sight;
That widely diff'rent both appear
If view'd from thence or ſeen from here.
Place lights, with art, the ſhades between;
And black & white the varying ſcene:
At points oppos'd each ſtrikes the eyes,
And this affirms what that denies.
The demonſtration of his Sight
Who doubts? who knows not black from white
The proofs of both exactly ſuit,
And evidence ſupports dispute.
[14] How madly then the world agree
To rave at alien Hereſy!
Heirs to Religion's brighter ſphere,
How ſtrangely damn'd & damning here!
Halfwitted Zeal, of all the teſt,
Itſelf condemning with the reſt:
By Sampſon's rage, ſo thouſands loſt
Fell but at blinded Sampſon's coſt.
Lorenzo, is't thyſelf to pleaſe?
Doſt covet truth in hopes of eaſe?
Woulds't thou of future bliſs or woe
Secure thy hopes and fears below?
Be truth no more thy ardent ſearch;
[15] Behold thy noſtrum in the Church;
Faith, by indulgent Heaven, deſign'd,
To help the weak, to lead the blind,
To check the raſh, to warn the bold,
T'affright the young, t'amuſe the old,
From our ownſelves ourſelves to ſave,
And bring us ſmiling to the Grave.
Aſk'st thou what Church? by each confeſt
His own ſuperior to the reſt.
Enquire of all—of all enquir'd,
Their medium is the term deſir'd.
Doſt thou require this term of me?
Go, ſeek it in Conformity:
At London, Pekin, or Peru,
[16] A conſtant rule for ever true.
From hence deduce that golden mean
Each dagger-drawing Church between;
Nor doubt if here thou fixeſt right:
In half their difference all unite.
Their half of difference, if unknown,
Will Moderation make thine own.
Hard is the taſk, advent'rous Youth,
And bold thy enterprize for truth.
Yet canſt thou bliſs or eaſe forego,
And burns thy boſom but to know?
Haſt, in thine earlier hours, been taught
The gen'rous fortitude of thought,
[17] To ſet blind prejudice apart,
To rend th'old Woman from the Heart,
To damn tradition's idle rules,
The Mother & the Nurſe of Fools?
Th' ingenuous muſe ſhall lead the way
Safe in the theme, tho' rude the lay,
Truth hopes not for poetic praiſe:
To Fiction ſacred are the Bays.
EPISTLE THE SECOND. to LORENZO.
[18]Rul'd by no giant hopes or fears,
Whoſe ſtature grows with length of years,
In ſearch of Truth, expect to find
The labour ſuited to the mind;
With genius Nature bearing part,
The ſtrict, yet gentle, nurſe of art:
For aim not thou a point to hit,
[19] Beyond the reach of human wit;
Or join, Lorenzo, blindly, thoſe,
Who firſt would Nature's God diſcloſe.
For, ſay the voice of reaſon true;
Be ours a juſt abſtracted view:
Be it the priviledge of man
To trace, exactly, Nature's plan;
The ſcale of Beings in his hands,
To know the point at which he ſtands,
Compar'd with all he boaſts to know,
As well above him as below:
Yet, if, of human logick vain,
He links to Heav'n a kindred chain
[20] Man his concluſions idly draws;
And Heav'n preſcribes by human laws.
Imagine thou in what degree
A Seraph ſtands 'tween God & thee:
Conceive thyſelf a mite unſeen
And Being infinite between:
In this Compariſon, ſays Pride,
A Seraph thou, to God allied.
Thy Pride, Lorenzo, disbeleive;
Let Locke nor Addiſon deceive:
For tho' Creation's varied plan
Aſſigns degrees reſpecting man;
[21] Yet Skeptick know, & learn to fear,
God is beyond thy proper Sphere.
Created Beings, all, his care,
Doth he with them Creation ſhare?
Ah no! the Syſtem all our own,
God, the Creator, ſtands alone:
At equal diſtance all his plan,
The mite, the Seraph or the Man.
Is it not ſo, the paſſive clay
Of yon Corinthian Column gay,
That gilt entablature or baſe,
Or marble of yon ſhining vaſe
Reſemble more the artiſt's mind
[22] Than if to meaner uſe conſign'd.
Abſurd! is Jones's genius known.
By the great model or the ſtone?
The Pile erect to Trajan's name,
Affected not by empty fame,
The Croſs rever'd, the honour'd Buſt
And trodden floor are kindred duſt:
For all, in one degree, reſpect
Their ſov'reign Lord, the Architect.
How juſtly then ſo e'er we plead
That Reaſon nature's book doth read,
As by it's known & written laws
Of each effect we trace the cauſe,
[23] Thoſe laws can ne'er themſelves confine
The legislative Pow'r divine;
Whoſe will that order firſt decreed
And bade th' effect the cauſe ſucceed;
Agent, by ſome ſuperior ſcheme,
Of which, in this, we can but dream.
Bear Atticus the Critick's rod.
In vain we, then, define a God,
In vain we attributes beſtow;
Or reaſon, here, from what we know.
Tho' Science teach, religion warm,
What wild Ideas ſtill we form?
Incongruous embrios of the brain,
[24] That ſtrive to ſcale the Heav'ns in vain.
Too ſhort to reach beyond the ſky
The focus of the mental eye;
Too cold our moſt tranſporting Zeal
To paint what Heav'ns & light conceal.
Yet will the ſkeptick aſk me why?
Go, riſe & to the dog-ſtar fly
Thou canſt not: nor the cauſe unknown.
Central attraction holds thee down;
A pow'r occult, which, e'er thy birth,
Faſt bound thee to thy native Earth,
From which thou ne'er canſt hope to riſe
To Lunar plains or ſolar ſkies.
[25] Nor leſs, within it's ſphere, confin'd
The ſubtle eſſence of the mind.
Tho' Heav'n has giv'n it pow'r to rove
In Freedom thro' the plains above;
Hath wing'd it's active feet to run,
With Merc'ry, round the central ſun;
Has giv'n it diſtant Worlds t'explore;
And ſeas of ſpace without a ſhore:
Yet, ſtill, within Creation's round,
Within our narrow ſyſtem bound;
Of what's above or what without
We harbour univerſal doubt.
Say light prevails, no contraſt ſhade
Outlines the void we would pervade:
[26] If darkneſs reigns, no chearing ray
Delineates blind Enquiry's way.
Hence, mortal man, muſt ever be
Thy Author, here, unknown to thee;
Deſtin'd thy erring way to trace
Thro' Nature's parti-colour'd ſpace.
Let Ignorance, then, her Idol dreſs
In Juſtice, Love & Happineſs;
Adorn with Mercy's golden chain,
With all the virtues grace it's train;
And then adore, in humble plight,
And call thoſe fopperies infinite.
[27] The pagan thus, deſpis'd as blind,
Creates his Idol to his mind;
Thinking his deity expreſs'd
By bird or beaſt he likes the beſt;
Then bows before it's painted ſhrine;
And calls his wooden God divine.
Caſt the preſumptuous thought aſide:
'Tis not humility but pride;
Unleſs that truly humble we,
T'adore the God Humanity.
And ſuch it is: for whence ariſe
Our virtues but from moral ties,
Whoſe known relations thus define.
[28] That Eſſence mortals call divine.
Lorenzo, ready for reply,
Lay not thy prompt objection by,
Thou ſayſt "thy friend himſelf deceives,
"Nor God adores, nor God beleives:
"For tho' the mind the pow'r deſcries,
"If left it's * eſſence in the ſkies,
"If none beleiv'd, or none diſplay'd,
"To what is adoration paid?
"In me no certain Faith is found;
"My deity an empty ſound.
[29]
Not ſo: for, granting, Iconfeſs,
Thy attributes a God expreſs;
Ev'n thou'lt aſſert "ſtill undefin'd
"The perfect, by th' imperfect, mind;
But to thy attributes muſt join
Thy infinite, or thy divine.
As jugglers, who t'enhance deceit,
To ſacred ſcience give their Cheat,
While, with the curtain, ſtill they hide
The ſlight of hand, too cloſely eye'd:
So here ſly theologues impart
The Hocus pocus of their art,
And hold religion's ſacred veil,
[30] Where ſlights of Underſtanding fail:
For know, alaſs, their wiſeſt plan
Diſplays but a SUPERIOR MAN,
Whom Infinite, the Conjurer's rod,
Preſto, converts into a God:
For till they ſolve our problem right,
And tell us what is infinite,
They ſtill muſt be reduc'd to own
Their compound deity unknown:
To all, or reaſoning or inſpir'd,
This infinite a term requir'd.
Differs Lorenzo, then, with me?
In terms alone we diſagree:
Perfection infinite is thine,
[31] Indefinite Perfection mine.
Condemn not, then, half-underſtood.
I not deny that perfect, good,
All-gracious, merciful and wiſe,
God reigns, ſupreme, beyond the ſkies.
Neither, 'tis true, my terms imply;
But, granting none, I none deny:
Requiring but to acquieſce
That thou thy infinite expreſs.
Idly doth Bolingbroke refine;
Granting that wisdom is divine,
While, full as idly, he denies
[32] Juſtice & Goodneſs to the ſkies.
Ideas, equally our own,
Our Goodneſs as our wisdom's known:
To both as hard to reconcile
Or Nature's frown or Nature's ſmile.
Alaſs! no attributes of thine
Can e'er the deity define;
Impoſſible to judge, or know,
Of God above from Man below:
Reſerv'd the proſpect of the ſkies
To gratifie immortal eyes.
Lorenzo, let us reaſon right.
[33] No finite ſpans an infinite;
Unleſs, with Matho, vers'd in Arts,
We hold th' infinity of parts:
But none th' abſurdity will plan,
That God can be contain'd in man;
Tho', as abſurdly, they ſuppoſe
Our qualities the God diſcloſe.
Join'ſt thou, with Florio, the diſpute,
T'enhance each moral attribute;
Pretending theſe, however crude,
Divine perfection doth include;
As Species in a Genus they,
Or parts, which do the whole diſplay.
[...]
[32] [...]
[33][34]
So, with the grandeur all t'inſpire
Of the gay manſion of his ſire,
An Idiot Heir, his mother's fool,
Taught his ſynecdoché, at ſchool,
Conceiv'd by part the whole was ſhown,
And took a ſample of the ſtone.
Convinc'd, doth Polydore, with me,
That God's indefinite, agree;
Yet argue that our partial view
May ſtill be relatively true:
For, if no abſtract lights we gain,
'Tis juſt our beſt to entertain;
Our God to call that wond'rous cauſe,
[35]
In Nature trac'd, by nature's laws.
Miſtake not here, nor God dethrone:
Be the firſt Cauſe in Nature known;
'Tis but a conſequent Effect;
Whoſe Cauſe no ſimilars reſpect.
The God we, then, by this define
Nor ſelf exiſtent nor divine.
Be known Creation's various ties;
Whence Phyſical relations riſe;
Explain'd, diſtinct, to mortal ſenſe,
The wond'rous ſcheme of Providence:
Say'ſt thou the Knowledge hence deriv'd
Of him thoſe ſyſtems hath contriv'd?
[36] Alaſs! from hence we only trace
The Features of Creation's face;
The front it bears to human-kind:
But not it's ſelf-exiſting mind.
Should we, preſuming to diſplay
The ſpirit of the golden day,
Thus, call it's eſſence it's reſult,
Attraction, Fire, alike occult;
Or ſay 'tis Vegetation green;
Who'd think it is the Sun we mean?
So here t'abſurdity we fall
Nor thus define a God at all.
Yet while, to thee I freely own,
[37] I reverence a God unknown;
Think not, through Ignorance or Pride
A God was ever yet denied.
No * Atheiſt e'er was known on Earth
'Till fiery Zealots gave him birth,
For controverſy's ſake, their trade,
And damn'd the Heretic they made.
Doth Clody, impudent & vain,
Deny a God, in ſkeptick ſtrain,
And yet, in ignorance, advance,
[38] That Natures works were made by Chance?
Warm Theologues, abſurdly wife,
With their anathemas deſpiſe;
For well may Clody theſe inflame,
Whoſe God exiſts but in a name,
A technic term, devis'd at School:
I pity Clody, as a Fool.
To Epicurus' ſtrains belong
The cenſures of an Idle ſong.
For, ſay "united worlds might join,
"By accident, & not deſign;
"Atoms might luckily contrive,
"And Strangely find themſelves alive,
[39] "Or, by ſome other ſcheme as wild,
"The world be Fortune's fav'rite Child.
Explain the terms— ſay what is meant
By atoms, fortune, accident.
What mean'st thou but th'efficient cauſe
Of Nature's works & Nature's laws?
O think not, then, th'eternal mind
To term or epithet confin'd;
But take away or change the name;
And Clody's God & mine's the ſame.
Say'ſt thou in Chance a pow'r defin'd,
Fortuitous, abſurd & blind,
[40] Unworthy that ſtupendous plan,
Which Nature's ſcenes diſplay to man:
Where grace, with harmony allied,
And wisdom ſtrike, on ev'ry ſide.
Alaſs! to Clody theſe unknown:
For wond'rous Wisdom's all his own.
In Nature nothing he ſurveys
That actuates his ſoul to praiſe:
In vain the Planets run their courſe,
Obedient to Attraction's force;
Th'eccentric Comets, far & wide
Purſue the ſame unerring guide;
In vain deſcribes their varied race,
[41] In equal times, an equal ſpace:
In vain, thro' microſcopic eyes,
Innumerable wonders riſe,
On the green leaf whole nations crawl,
And myriads periſh in it's fall.
Alaſs! what bears the barren mind!
What beauty can affect the blind!
Should Clody then his chance diſclaim,
And own a deity, by name,
The blundering deiſt muſt advance
A God, no wiſer than his Chance.
How obvious is the truth! & yet,
What learned volumes have been writ,
[42] How Scholiaſts labour to confute
What none do actually diſpute!
Of the firſt cauſe, or fools or wiſe,
The pure exiſtence none denies;
But in it's * eſſence diſagree:
For who defines infinity!
Bluſh not, Lorenzo, then, to own,
Th'eternal God a God unknown;
Whoſe face, to mortal eye denied,
Can never gratifie thy Pride.
To him your votive altars raiſe,
[43] As Athens did, in antient days;
Nor dare pollute his ſacred ſhrine
With human ſacrifice divine;
But humble adoration bring,
And ſilent praiſe, fit offering!
So the Peruvian, pure in heart,
Strange to the guile or guilt of art,
Unaw'd by tenet, text or tale,
Erects his temple, in the vale,
Sacred to th'univerſal mind,
The God & guide of Human-kind.
No firſtlings here affront the ſkies,
Nor clouds of ſmoking incenſe riſe:
[44] No Hypocrite, with acid face,
No Convert, tortur'd into grace,
No ſolid ſkull, in wisdom's cowl,
No hooded hawk, nor ſolemn owl,
Nor blind, nor ominous invade
This ſpotleſs conſecrated ſhade:
But, as the native of the ſpray,
Man hails his maker, with the day,
By Nature taught, Heav'n aſks no more,
In ſpirit & in truth t'adore.
EPISTLE THE THIRD. to LORENZO.
[45]Nor to the fount of Hippocrene,
Nor groves of laurel, ever green,
Nor where the wanton Graces ſtray,
With flowers is ſtrew'd the muſe's way.
Lorenzo, no, I more rejoice
At Reaſon's rough & manly voice
Than at the ſprightlieſt, ſofteſt airs
That ever tickled Fancy's cars;
[46] Tho' ſenſeleſs Echo found them ſweet,
And bade the public voice repeat.
Lorenzo, ſyſtems throw'n aſide,
Be Reaſon, then, our honeſt guide;
The guide, not only to the mind
In Science deep or ſenſe refin'd;
But to the plain and honeſt giv'n
The firſt, beſt, artleſs gift of Heav'n
Reaſon, that ſees not but the ſenſe
Of Ciceronian Eloquence.
The limits of our Reaſon known,
To Heav'n reſign it's honour'd throne:
On humbler wings, but riſe to know
[47] Thy Heav'n on Earth, thy God below:
Content to trace, from Nature's laws,
Th' effects of an abſtracted cauſe;
The Cauſe of all th' effects we ſee;
The all we mean by deity.
Adapted thus Enquiry's plan
To truths as relative to Man;
Know Nature's law no leſs extends
To Phyſical than moral ends.
What moves the fix'd mechanic pow'r,
To ſhed the ſoft refreſhing ſhow'r,
That, in the womb of teeming Earth,
It's atoms quickens into birth,
[48] Doth in the moral ſcene connect
The cauſe & conſequent effect.
Hence vice the ſource of human woe,
As ſprings of ſtreams that from them flow,
On virtue happineſs depends,
As matter to the centre tends.
Nor leſs capricious, to the ſenſe,
Phyſicks, indeed, than Providence.
Conceive not then, as ſkepticks dream,
That nature's an imperfect ſcheme:
Becauſe, perplex'd with grief & pain,
Man covets perfect bliſs in vain.
[49] Say'ſt thou that Man the work of Heav'n,
To him if imperfection's giv'n,
Imperfect muſt that ſyſtem be
Whoſe Lord a being weak as he.
Lorenzo, let not words deceive,
All imperfection's relative:
For of perfection abſolute
All Nature is, beyond diſpute:
For all from God itſelf derives;
And all is perfect God contrives.
Man, ſurely, perfect, then, you'll cry.
As Man, moſt perfect, I reply:
The Creature of his maker's will,
But form'd his pleaſure to fulfill,
[50] Deſign'd, in wide Creation's plan
To fill the place & act as Man.
For, doth capacity t'improve
Perfection poſitive remove?
As well imperfect might'ſt thou ſay
The riſing ſun, at dawn of day,
Since with ſuperior heat & light
It blazes in meridian height.
Form'd with progreſſive powers to riſe,
In this ev'n man's perfection lies:
Perfect, as ſuch, humanity,
Howe'er degraded in degree.
Yet wilt thou ſay "iſ man conſin'd
[51] "To fill the place by Heav'n aſſign'd,
"Impoſſible to riſe or fall;
"Why feels he miſery at all?
Another queſtion answers this.
What title have mankind to Bliſs?
Correct Ideas let us gain:
Say, what the miſery of pain?
In vain, Lorenzo, doſt thou here
Affected Stoiciſm fear.
None feels more tenderly than I:
Mine the ſoft heart & wat'ry eye,
The ſanguine hopes, the needleſs fears,
Yet unſubdued by ſenſe or years.
[52] Yet Ah! how little underſtood
Mankind's imaginary good.
To Heav'n my grateful vows be paid
That Man in human Frailty made;
That grief & ignorance my lot;
In joy & Literature forgot;
Or beſt remember'd, in the taſte
They give t'improvement's rich repaſt.
No tranſport e'er had fir'd my breaſt,
If born of Sciences poſſeſs'd,
As when, by native genius fir'd,
To early knowledge I aspir'd;
By ſlow degrees inſtructed grew,
As Nature open'd to my view;
[53] To the weak eye as Hope was giv'n,
Hope! that directs the ſoul to Heav'n.
Hence, tho' no Stoick, I conceive
All joy and pain comparative.
The glow of Health the bliſs of eaſe
Had never boaſted charms to pleaſe,
Nor cordial draught nor downy bed
Had e'er reviv'd the drooping head,
Had ſickneſs pale & trembling grief
Ne'er wiſh'd for wearied eyes, relief.
See Belmont, on the ſof;a laid:
What racking Pains his limbs invade!
[54] Take half his Gout; the reſpite giv'n
He calls a bliſſful taſte of Heav'n.
Give but a Youth, diſperſing Wealth,
Who riots on the bloom of Health,
That bliſſful part which yet remains;
And his were Hell's diſtracting pains;
Pains which no aggravation know!
And yet, ſo relative our woe,
Inflict them when, by Chloe's kiſs,
The am'rous Youth diſſolves in bliſs,
Ev'n theſe diſtracting pains were worſe,
A mortal's moſt embitter'd curſe.
[55] In * mental ſorrows, thus our grief
Seeks but comparative releif:
The trifling cares that you deſpiſe
To ſome momentous miſeries.
Ah me! what threat'ning danger nigh?
Why ſwells the tear from Delia's eye?
Ah whence proceeds this ſad diſtreſs?
From th' inſignificance of dreſs.
Thus ev'n to circumſtance we owe
The difference of bliſs & woe;
Pleaſure & pain, as light & ſhade,
By one the other ſtill diſplay'd.
[56] O what capricious joy & ſtrife
Attend the various ſcenes of Life!
To wield the Scythe, with ſweaty brow,
To turn the ſoil, beneath the plough,
To ſow in hope & reap in joy
Thine Labour! is the ſweet employ:
Stranger to hope, from want ſecure,
Life's eaſy burthen to endure,
To eat the grape nor prune the vine,
Laborious Idleneſs! is thine.
Yet Idleneſs of Care complains,
And Labour quarrels with it's pains.
How ſunk & terrible to thee
[57] The hollow eye of Poverty,
While Villius meets her with a ſmile,
And ſings or whiſtles all the while;
Tho' worn his hands, perplex'd his head,
He relishes the ſweets of bread,
And many a time, in pleaſant rue,
Dances for joy, without a ſhoe.
Nor leſs thy woes, nor more thy joy;
Since equal cares thy peace deſtroy;
Since wanting ne'er, thou ne'er haſt tried
Th' effects of being ſatisfied;
In Plenty little more enjoy'd
Than the dull bliſs of being cloy'd:
[58] The child of Penury but Eaſe,
As of ſatiety diſeaſe:
Diſeaſe, that takes our lives by Stealth
And makes a beggary of Wealth.
When Fortune made thee rich & gay;
It gave th' anxiety for play;
Bade, with thy Hawk, thine acres fly;
Thy freehold totter with the die.
Not greater care poor Villius knows;
As Bleſt in nothing he can loſe.
Thus Plenty, giving bread more white,
But ſteals the whet of Appetite:
A Bleſſing, plainly, half-accurſt,
[59] That gives me wine but ſteals my thirſt!
Lorenzo farther might we go,
And prove ſtill nearer bliſs & woe,
To each inſeparably join'd;
Alternate regents in the mind:
Yet ſo precarious in their reign;
Bliſs tyrannizes into pain;
And when to cruel pain we bow,
It's rod grows light, we know not how.
The tenſion of th' extended nerve,
Say Phyſiologiſts, may ſerve
This ſeeming paradox t'explain;
[60] Th' affinity of Joy & pain.
As ſtrung the Harp with trembling Wire,
With Nerves ſo ſtrung the human lyre,
In healthful concord tun'd, they ſay,
Pleaſures harmonious Concert play.
But, if their tenſion more or leſs,
From Paſſion, ſickneſs or diſtreſs,
Moſt tremblingly alive all o'er,
The ſtrings, in diſcord, charm no more;
But, jarring, plays th' ungrateful ſtrain,
With harpy-ſingers, deaf'ning Pain.
Deduce we, then, Lorenzo, hence
That joys & pains are modes of ſenſe,
As tunes in muſick, where each note
[61] The ſimple Gamut has by rote,
And, adventitiously combin'd,
Pleaſe or diſpleaſe but as they're join'd.
Should alſo paſſion, ſenſe or art
Wind up too high the nervous part,
The tuneful notes in noiſe expire,
Or breaking ſtrings unman the Lyre.
For as, exceſs of Joy or Grief
Finds in a tear the ſame releif;
The rapture of Cleora's kiſs
Inflicts the racking pain of bliſs:
Th' effect the ſame, while both deſtroy,
Exquiſite pain extatic joy!
[62] Theme of continual diſpute!
No relative is abſolute:
No Error, ſuch conceiv'd by Man,
A blunder is in Nature's plan;
Nor dare we impiously pretend
Ills abſolute from God deſcend.
The Queſtion old unanſwer'd lies.
From whence did moral evil riſe?
Thou ſay'ſt, if pow'r to ſtand was giv'n,
Man had not fell, the care of Heav'n,
No tempter known to lead to vice,
Serpent nor Eve in Paradiſe.
[63] Lorenzo, in the pride of ſenſe,
Inſtruction is impertinence:
She therefore, daughter of the wife,
Hath long been ſhelter'd in diſguiſe;
Ent'ring, beneath the maſk of Sport,
The preſence, tho forbid the Court;
So fond with young delight to ſtray,
And moralize the wanton's play,
That ev'n her precepts ſtill prevail
In ev'ry ſav'rite Goſſip's tale.
Yet ſo that thoſe, her arts would learn,
May th' allegory's face diſcern:
The moral, then, from Tales deduct,
And let Philoſophy inſtruct.
[64] Here the grand Error that we make,
Morals for Phyſicals we take;
Like thoſe half mad, amphibious wits,
Who jumble, in their learned fits,
Effects & cauſes, each for either,
God, man, Heav'n, Earth & all together
Fire, ſpirit, virtue, mixture rare!
With darkneſs ſoluble in air.
To Hutchinſonian Idiots leave,
What none but Idiots can conceïve:
Nor think thou moral ill exiſts,
And battles in Creation's liſts,
A formal Enemy to man,
Since Nature's monarchy began;
[65] A Being Phyſical or Pow'r,
Active poor mortals to devour.
For 'tis impoſſible a cauſe
Should counter-act Creation's Laws;
As one or other muſt prevail,
And one, or both together, fail.
Beleive me, then, what Ill we call
Is no abſtracted cauſe at all:
For, ſtript Creation of mankind,
No moral ill were left behind:
Owing to th' human breaſt it's riſe
For man's firſt moral action vice.
Lorenzo, ſtate the matter clear.
[66] Be pain & pleaſure ſtrangers here:
Strangers to pleaſure & to pain,
Induce what motives to complain!
For had we ne'er been griev'd or pain'd
Of vice we never had complain'd.
Suppoſe we, then, in Nature's plan
T'exiſt the microcoſm of man;
Aſleep in ſenſeleſs matter's arms,
Which perfect reſt nor grieves nor charms:
Should Heav'n a conſcious mind inſpire,
Where reaſon checks & paſſions ſire,
Nor pain inflict nor pleaſure give,
But wake the form alone to live.
[67] Unnerv'd by Hope, unaw'd by fear,
Alike from all reflections clear,
Suppoſe to action, then, conſign'd
This naked, unaffected mind.
Lorenzo, with preciſion, hence
Let us infer the conſequence.
Behold the ſource of moral ill,
The prior agent was the will;
Reaſon without the pow'r to act
To cenſure or adviſe a fact,
As by Experience nought it knew
Of good or bad, or falſe or true:
For Reaſon it's concluſions draws
[68] From ſimilar effect & cauſe:
No inſtinct, faculty or ſenſe
That promptly dictates innocence;
That bids us Virtue's ſteps purſue,
Or points to bliſs it never knew.
For, giving reaſon, then had Heav'n
No leſs than actual pleaſure giv'n.
This not ſuppos'd— hence Reaſon's uſe
Some known effect muſt introduce.
Now if as * innate we maintain
[69] A love of bliſs & hate of Pain,
Directed as the paſſions fir'd,
The will to pleaſure firſt aſpir'd:
If Pleaſure was the point attain'd
Of Pain an equal ſenſe was gain'd:
As the firſt tree of Knowledge bore
Of good & evil equal ſtore:
For, when the mind one pleaſure knew,
It's ſtate of perfect reſt withdrew:
No Neutral ſenſe it might retain,
As leſs than pleaſure, now, was pain.
Thus, felt th' initiated mind
The ſting which pleaſure left behind,
[70] And Reaſon did to act commence
On th' information of the ſenſe.
If juſtly then we're taught to know
Vice as the precedent of woe,
What deeds from Paſſion take their riſe
Muſt, needs, in conſequence, be vice.
In guilt original involv'd,
Here, ſee the Myſtery reſolv'd.
To the firſt man, no more confin'd
Than paſſions found in ev'ry mind
Is the firſt cauſe of grief & pain,
And Vice's hatred, horrid train.
[71] As Man's the ſource, ſo Man's the end.
Ourſelves our Crimes alone offend.
Is Heav'n's premeditated woe?
Heav'n needs no friend nor fears a foe;
Has no vindictive rage in ſtore,
For it's own ſake, on man to pour;
Bleſt in himſelf th' almighty Cauſe,
Or kept or broken human laws.
For know, vain man, no act of thine
Renders defective God's deſign:
No pow'r to human frailty giv'n
To controvert the will of Heav'n.
Preſume not at ſo high a price
To rate th' iniquity of Vice:
[72] Nor let the vainly-virtuous fool,
Projecting Heav'n by line & rule,
Sore-laſh'd & waſting to the bone,
The crime of healthier days t'atone,
Conceive, by want of reſt or meat,
Th' eternal purpoſe to defeat.
Preſume not at ſo low a rate
To value the decrees of Fate.
Ev'n ſuch, in Phyſics, are the Fools,
Puzzled beyond the maze of ſchools,
Who boaſt a pow'r, or, pow'r to form,
Would Nature's fortreſs take, by ſtorm;
With martial engines, ſtranger, far,
[73] Than thoſe of Archimedes were;
Madmen Monro could never cure
Of Circles & their quadrature,
Of thinking drunk Creation reels,
Like a ſlung Coach, on ſprings & wheels.
Yet ſay not, therefore, Guilt is free;
Or promiſe Crimes impunity:
Since 'tis ordain'd the ſting of woe
To bliſs inordinate ſhall grow;
That each falſe pleaſure bring it's pain,
And ev'ry Vice it's kindred train.
Lorenzo, evil underſtood,
[74] How near the ſource of moral good!
'Twas Reaſon taught us this to prize:
For Reaſon virtue did deviſe.
Know pleaſures, which the paſſions taſte,
In haſte are won, are loſt in haſte,
While their equivalent of pains,
Long, the tenacious mind retains.
Hence, did not Reaſon check below,
The will would work continual woe.
Reaſon! beſtow'd a common friend,
Not to keep faultleſs, but amend;
To lead ſelf-love, a glutton blind,
Which, elſe, nor hopes nor fears could bind;
[75] To give it's ſcene of action light,
And check each ſenſual appetite:
The bliſs of ſocial love to ſhare,
And paſſion's blunders to repair.
Caeleſtial Guide! O give my Youth
T'enjoy thy lovelier ſiſter Truth;
For whoſe Embrace my vows I pay,
In ardent ſighs, th' enquiring day:
Nor, when enquiring day is o'er,
Ceaſe by the midnight lamp to pore
O'er the dull tale or tedious page
Of ſaint, or more laborious ſage;
Happy if ſaint or ſage could tell
Where I with her might ever dwell.
[76] With thee, bright Truth! for whom alone
My Genius for the verſe be known;
Content for thee to change the bays,
The Poet's for thy Lover's praiſe.
Notes
*
If the truth of this obſervation be call'd in queſtion, the reader may turn, for conviction, to a late pamphlet, call'd the Light of nature the light of the goſpel; writ⯑ten by an author, who, for twenty years paſt has occaſionally oblig'd the public with works of the ſame ſtamp.
*
By Eſſence is meant, here, thoſe attributes or quali⯑ties, by which we define any known EXISTENCE or diſtin⯑guish it from any other.
*
The word ATHEIST is here us'd to ſignifie, ſimply, one who denies the being of a God.
*
The word ESSENCE is here us'd in the ſenſe above men⯑tion'd. page 28.
*
By mental ſorrows are here meant thoſe reflexions, or uneaſy ſenſations, which are vulgarly ſuppos'd, ſometimes, to attend the perfect health of the body.
*
We admit of few receiv'd principles, nor would this have been admitted ſo eaſily had it not been what thoſe Philoſophers, who doubt of almoſt ev'ry thing elſe, will readily agree to.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3515 Epistles to Lorenzo. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61E6-3