3. Columbus, struck with the wonderful expeditions of the Portuguese, imagined that something greater might be done; and from a bare inspection of the map of our world, concluded that there must be another which might be found by sailing always west. He had courage equal to his genius, or indeed superior, seeing he had to struggle with the prejudices of his cotemporaries, and the repulses of several princes to whom he had tendered his services.

4. Genoa, which was his native country, treated his schemes as visionary, and by that means lost the only opportunity that could have offered of aggrandizing her power. Henry VII. king of England, who was too greedy of money, to hazard any on this noble attempt, would not listen to the proposals made by Columbus's brother; and Columbus himself was rejected by John II. of Portugal, whose attention was wholly employed upon the coast of Africa. He had no prospect of success in applying to the French, whose marine lay totally neglected, and their affairs more confused than ever, daring the Minority of Charles VIII. The emperor Maximilian, had neither ports for shipping, money to fit out a fleet, nor sufficient courage to engage in a scheme of this nature. The Venetians, indeed, might have undertaken it; but whether the natural aversion of the Genoese to these people, would not suffer Columbus to apply to the rivals of his country, or that the Venetians had no idea of any thing more important than the trade they carried on from Alexandria and in the Levant, Columbus at length fixed all his hopes on the court of Spain.

5. Ferdinand, king of Arragon, and Isabella, queen of Castile, had by their marriage united all Spain under one dominion, excepting only the kingdom of Granada, which was still in the possession of the Moors; but which Ferdinand soon after took from them. The union of these two princes had prepared the way for the greatness of Spain, which was afterwards begun by Columbus; he was however obliged to undergo eight years of incessant application, before Isabella's court would consent to accept of the inestimable benefit this great man offered it. The bane of all great objects is the want of money. The Spanish court was poor; and the prior, Perez, and two merchants, named Pinzono, were obliged to advance seventeen thousand ducats towards fitting out the armament. Columbus procured a patent from the court, and at length set sail from the port of Palos, in Andalusia, with three ships, on August 23, in the year 1492.

6. It was not above a month after his departure from the Canary Islands, where he had come to an anchor to get refreshment, when Columbus discovered the first island in America; and during this short run, he suffered more from the murmurings and discontent of the people of his fleet, than he had done even from the refusals of the princes he had applied to. This island, which he discovered and named St. Salvador, lies about a thousand leagues from the Canaries. Presently after he likewise discovered the Lucayan islands, together with those of Cuba and Hispaniola, now called St. Domingo.

7. Ferdinand and Isabella were in the utmost surprise to see him return at the end of nine months, with some of the American natives of Hispaniola, several rarities from that country, and a quantity of gold, with which he presented their majesties.

8. The king and queen made him sit down in their presence, covered like a grandee of Spain, and created him high admiral and viceroy of the new world. Columbus was now every where looked upon as an extraordinary person sent from heaven. Everyone was vying who should be foremost in assisting him in his undertakings, and embarking under his command. He soon set sail again, with a fleet of seventeen ships. He now made the discovery of several other new islands, particularly the Caribees and Jamaica. Doubt had been changed into admiration on his first voyage; in this, admiration was turned into envy.

9. He was admiral and viceroy, and to these titles might have been added that of the benefactor of Ferdinand and Isabella. Nevertheless, he was brought home prisoner to Spain, by judges who had been purposely sent out on board to observe his conduct. As soon as it was known that Columbus was arrived, the people ran in shoals to meet him, as the guardian genius of Spain. Columbus was brought from the ship, and appeared on shore chained hands and feet.

10. He had been thus treated by the orders of Fonseca, Bishop of Burgos, the intendant of the expedition, whose ingratitude was as great as the other's services. Isabella was ashamed of what she saw, and did all in her power to make Columbus amends for the injuries done to him: however he was not suffered to depart for four years, either because they feared that he would seize upon what he had discovered for himself, or that they were willing to have time to observe his behaviour. At length he was sent on another voyage to the new world; and now it was that he discovered the continent, at six degrees distance from the equator, and saw that part of the coast on which Carthagena has been since built.

11. At the time that Columbus first promised a new hemisphere, it was insisted upon that no such hemisphere could exist; and after he had made the actual discovery of it, it was pretended that it had been known long before.

12. I shall not mention one Martin Behem, of Nuremberg, who, it is said, went from that city to the Straits of Magellan, in 1460, with a patent from the Duchess of Burgundy, who, as she was not alive at that time, could not issue patents. Nor shall I take notice of the pretended charts of this Martin Behem, which are still shewn; nor of the evident contradictions which discredit this story: but, in short, it was not pretended that Martin Behem had peopled America; the honour was given to the Carthaginians, and a book of Aristotle was quoted on the occasion, which he never wrote. Some found out a conformity between some words in the Caribee and Hebrew languages, and did not fail to follow so fine an opening. Others were positive that the children of Noah, after settling in Siberia, passed from thence over to Canada on the ice, and that their descendants, afterwards born in Canada, had gone and peopled Peru. According to others again, the Chinese and Japanese sent colonies into America, and carried over lions with them for their diversion, though there are no lions either in China or Japan.

13. In this manner have many learned men argued upon the discoveries made by men of genius. If it should be asked, how men first came upon the continent of America? Is it not easily answered, that they were placed there by the same power who causes trees and grass to grow?

14. The reply which Columbus made to some of those who envied him the high reputation he had gained, is still famous. These people pretended that nothing could be more easy than the discoveries he had made; upon which he proposed to them to set an egg upright on one of its ends; but when they had tried in vain to do it, he broke one end of the egg, and set it upright with ease. They told him any one could do that: How comes it then, replied Columbus, that not one among you thought of it? This story is related of Brunelleschi, who improved architecture at Florence many years before Columbus was born. Most bon-mots are only the repetition of things that have been said before.

15. The ashes of Columbus cannot be affected by the reputation he gained while living, in having doubled for us the works of the creation. But mankind delight to do justice to the illustrious dead, either from a vain hope that they enhance thereby the merit of the living, or that they are naturally fond of truth.

16. Americo Vespucci, whom we call Americus Vespusius, a merchant of Florence, had the honour of giving his name to this new half of the globe, in which he did not possess one acre of land, and pretended to be the first who discovered the continent. But supposing it true, that he was the first discoverer, the glory was certainly due to him who had the penetration and courage to undertake and perform the first voyage: Honour, as Newton says in his dispute with Leibnitz, is due only to the first inventor; and those that follow after are only his scholars.

17. Columbus had made three voyages as admiral and viceroy, five years before Americas Vespusius had made one as a geographer, under the command of admiral Ojeda; but the latter, writing to his friends at Florence, that he had discovered a new world, they believed him on his word, and the citizens of Florence decreed, that a grand illumination should be made before the door of his house every three years, on the feast of All Saints. And yet, could this man be said to deserve any honours, for happening to be on board a fleet that, in 1489; sailed along the coast of Brazil, when Columbus had, five years before, pointed out the way to the rest of the world?

18. There has lately appeared at Florence, a life of this Americus Vespusius, which seems to be written with very little regard to truth, and without any conclusive reasoning. Several French authors are there complained of, who have done justice to Columbus's merit; but the writer should not have fallen upon the French authors, but on the Spanish, who were the first that did this justice. This writer says, "that he will confound the vanity of the French nation, who have always attacked with impunity the honour and success of the Italian nation."

19. What vanity can there be in saying, that it was a Genoese that first discovered America? or how is the honour of the Italian nation injured in owning, that it was to an Italian born in Genoa, that we are indebted for the new world? I purposely remark this want of equity, good breeding, and good sense, as we have too many examples of it; and I must say, that the good French writers have in general been the least guilty of this insufferable fault; and one great reason of their being so universally read throughout Europe, is their doing justice to all nations.

20. The inhabitants of these islands, and of the continent, were a new race of men. They were all without beards, and were as much astonished at the faces of the Spaniards, as they were at their ships and artillery: they at first looked upon these new visitors as monsters or gods, who had come out of the sky or the sea.

21. These voyages, and those of the Portuguese, had now taught us how inconsiderable a spot of the globe our Europe was, and what an astonishing variety reigns in the world. Indostan was known to be inhabited by a race of men whose complexions were yellow. In Africa and Asia, at some distance from the equator, there had been found several kinds of black men; and after travellers had penetrated into America, as far as the line, they met with a race of people who were tolerably white. The natives of Brazil are of the colour of bronze. The Chinese still appear to differ entirely from the rest of mankind, in the make of their eyes and noses. But what is still to be remarked is, that into whatsoever regions these various races are transplanted, their complexions never change, unless they mingle with the natives of the country. The mucous membrane of the negroes, which is known to be of a black colour, is a manifest proof, that there is a differential principle in each species of men, as well as plants.

22. Dependent upon this principle, nature has formed the different degrees of genius, and the characters of nations, which are seldom known to change. Hence the negroes are slaves to other men, and are purchased on the coast of Africa like beasts, for a sum of money; and the vast multitudes of negroes transplanted into our American colonies, serve as slaves under a very inconsiderable number of Europeans. Experience has likewise taught us how great a superiority the Europeans have over the Americans, who are every where easily overcome, and have not dared to attempt a revolution, though a thousand to one superior in numbers.

23. This part of America was also remarkable on account of its animals and plants, which are not to be found in the other three parts of the world, and which are of so great use to us. Horses, corn of all kinds, and iron, were not wanting in Mexico and Peru, and among the many valuable commodities unknown to the old world, cochineal was the principal, and was brought us from this country. Its use in dying has now made us forget the scarlet, which for time immemorial had been the only thing known for giving a fine red colour.

24. The importation of cochineal was soon succeeded by that of indigo, cocoa, vanille, and those woods which serve for ornament and medicinal purposes, particularly the quinquina, or Jesuit's bark, which is the only specific against intermitting fevers. Nature has placed this remedy in the mountains of Peru, whilst she had dispersed the disease it cured through all the rest of the world. This new continent likewise furnished pearls; coloured stones, and diamonds.

25. It is certain, that America at present furnishes the meanest citizen of Europe with his conveniences and pleasures. The gold and silver mines, at their first discovery, were of service only to the kings of Spain and the merchants; the rest of the world was impoverished by them; for the great multitudes who did not follow business, found themselves possessed of a very small quantity of specie, in comparison with the immense sums accumulated by those who had the advantage of the first discoveries. But, by degrees, the great quantity of gold and silver which was sent from America, was dispersed throughout all Europe, and by passing into a number of hands, the distribution is become more equal. The price of commodities is likewise increased in Europe, in proportion to the increase of specie.

26. To comprehend how the treasures of America passed from the possession of the Spaniards into that of other nations, it will be sufficient to consider these two things: The use which Charles V. and Philip II. made of their money; and the manner in which other nations acquired a share in the mines of Peru.

37. The emperor Charles V. who was always travelling, and always at war, necessarily dispersed a great quantity of that specie which he received from Mexico and Peru, through Germany and Italy. When he sent his son Philip over to England, to marry queen Mary, and take upon bun the title of king of England, that prince deposited in the tower of London, twenty-seven large chests of silver, in bars, and an hundred horse-loads of gold and silver coin. The troubles in Flanders, and the intrigues of the league in France, cost this Philip, according to his own confession, above three thousand millions of livres of our money.

28. The manner in which the gold and silver of Peru is distributed amongst all the people of Europe, and from thence is sent to the East-Indies, is a surprising, though well-known circumstance. By a strict law enacted by Ferdinand and Isabella, and afterwards confirmed by Charles V. and all the kings of Spain, all other nations were not only excluded the entrance into any of the ports in Spanish America, but likewise from having the least share, directly or indirectly, in the trade of that part of the world. One would have imagined, that this law would have enabled the Spaniards to subdue all Europe; and yet Spain subsists only by the continual violation of this very law. It can hardly furnish exports for America to the value of four millions; whereas the rest of Europe sometimes send over merchandize to the amount of near fifty millions.

29. This prodigious trade of the nations at enmity, or at alliance with Spain, is carried on by the Spaniards themselves, who are always faithful in their dealings with individuals, and always cheating their king. The Spaniards gave no security to foreign merchants for the performance of their contracts; a mutual credit, without which there never could have been any commerce, supplies the place of other obligations.

30. The manner in which the Spaniards for a long time consigned the gold and silver to foreigners, which was brought home by their galleons, was still more surprising. The Spaniard, who at Cadiz is properly factor for the foreigner, delivered the bullion he received to the care of certain bravoes, called Meteors: these, armed with pistols at their belt, and a long sword, carried the bullion in parcels, properly marked, to the ramparts, and flung them over to other meteors, who waited below, and carried them to the boats which were to receive them, and these boats carried them on board the ships in the road. These meteors and the factors, together with the commissaries and the guards; who never disturbed them, had each a stated fee, and the foreign merchant was never cheated. The king, who received a duty upon this money at the arrival of the galleons, was likewise a gainer; so that properly speaking, the law only was cheated; a law which would be absolutely useless if not eluded, and which, nevertheless, cannot yet be abrogated, because old prejudices are always the most difficult to be overcome amongst men.

31. The greatest instance of the violation of this law, and of the fidelity of the Spaniards, was in the year 1684, when war was declared between France and Spain. His Catholic majesty endeavoured to seize upon the effects of all the French in his kingdom; but he in vain issued edicts and admonitions, enquiries and excommunications, not a single Spanish factor would betray his French correspondent. This fidelity, which does so much honour to the Spanish nation, plainly shews, that men only willingly obey those laws which they themselves have made for this good of society, and that those which are the mere effects of a sovereign's will, always meet with opposition.

32. As the discovery of America was at first the source of much good to the Spaniards, it afterwards occasioned them many and considerable evils. One has been, the depriving that kingdom of its subjects, by the great numbers necessarily required to people the colonies: another was, the infecting the world with a disease, which was before unknown only in the new world and particularly in the island of Hispaniola. Several of the companions of Christopher Columbus returned home infected with this contagion, which afterwards spread over Europe. It is certain that this poison, which taints the springs of life, was peculiar to America, as the plague and small-pox, were diseases originally endemial to the southern parts of Numidia.

33. We are not to believe, that the eating of human flesh, practised by some of the American savages, occasions this disorder. There were no cannibals on the island of Hispaniola, where it was most frequent and inveterate; neither are we to suppose, with some, that it proceeded from too great an excess of sensual pleasures. Nature had never punished excesses of this kind with such disorders in the world; and even to this day, we find that a momentary indulgence, which has been passed for eight or ten years, may bring this cruel and shameful scourge upon the chastest union.

34. The great Columbus, after having built several houses on these islands, and discovered the continent, returned to Spain, where he enjoyed a reputation unsullied by rapine or cruelty, and died at Validolid in 1506. But the Governors of Cuba and Hispaniola, who succeeded him, being persuaded that these provinces furnished gold, resolved to make the discovery at the price of the lives of the inhabitants. In short, whether they thought the natives had conceived an implacable hatred to them, or that they were apprehensive of their superior numbers; or that the rage of slaughter when once begun, knows no bounds, they in the space of a few years entirely depopulated Hispaniola and Cuba, the former of which contained three millions of inhabitants, and the latter above six hundred thousand.

35. Bartholomew de la Cases, bishop of Chiapa, who was an eye-witness to these desolations, relates that they hunted down the natives with dogs. These wretched savages, almost naked and without arms, were pursued like wild beasts in the forest, devoured alive by dogs, shot to death, or surprised and burnt in their habitations.

36. He further declares, from occular testimony, that they frequently caused a number of these miserable wretches to be summoned by a priest to come in, and submit to the Christian religion, and to the king of Spain; and that after this ceremony, which was only an additional act of injustice, they put them to death without the least remorse.—I believe that De la Cases has exaggerated in many parts of his relation; but, allowing him to have said ten times more than is truth, there remains enough to make us shudder with horror.

37. It may seem surprizing, that this massacre of a whole race of men, could have been carried on in the sight, and under the administration of several religieuse of the order of St. Jerome; for we know that cardinal Ximenes, who was prime minister at Castile before the time of Charles V. sent over four monks of this order, in quality of presidents of the royal council of the island. Doubtless they were not able to resist the torrent, and the hatred of the natives to their new masters being with just reason become implacable, rendered their destruction unhappily necessary.



Romulus the founder of Rome, after building the city, resolved to submit the form of its government to the choice of the people; and therefore, calling the citizens together, he harangued them thus:

If all the strength of cities lay in the height of their ramparts, or the depth of their ditches, we should have great reason to be in fear for that which we have now built. Are there in reality any walls too high to be scaled by a valiant enemy? And of what use are ramparts in intestine divisions? They may serve for a defence against sudden incursions from abroad; but it is by courage and prudence chiefly, that the invasions of foreign enemies are repelled; and by unanimity, sobriety, and justice, that domestic seditions are prevented. Cities fortified by the strongest bulwarks, have been often seen to yield to force from without, or to tumults from within. An exact military discipline, and a steady observance of civil polity, are the surest barriers against these evils. But there is still another point of great importance to be considered. The prosperity of some rising colonies, and the speedy ruin of others, have in a great measure been owing to the form of government. Was there but one manner of ruling states and cities that could make you happy, the choice would not be difficult; but I have learnt, that of the various forms of government among the Greeks and Barbarians, there are three which are highly extolled by those who have experienced them; and yet, that no one in those is in all respects perfect; but each of them has some innate and incurable defect. Chuse you then in what manner this city shall be governed. Shall it be by one man? Shall it be by a select number of the wisest among us? or shall the legislative power be in the people? As for me, I shall submit to whatever form of administration you shall please to establish. As I think myself not unworthy to command, so neither am I unwilling to obey. Your having chosen me to be the leader of this colony, and your calling the city after my name, are honours sufficient to content me; honours of which, I or dead, I can never be deprived.



While Quinctius Capitolinus and Agrippa Furius were Consuls at Rome, the differences betwixt the Senate and people ran so high, that the AEqui and Volsci, taking advantage of their intestine disorders ravaged the country to the very gates of Rome, and the Tribunes of the people forbad the necessary levies of troops to oppose them. Quinctius, a Senator, of great reputation, well beloved, and now in his fourth consulate, got the better of this opposition, by the following speech.

Though I am not conscious, O Romans, of any crime by me committed, it is yet with the utmost shame and confusion that I appear in your assembly. You have seen it—posterity will know it. In the fourth consulship of Titus Quinctius, the AEqui and Volsci, (scarce a match for the Hernici alone) came in arms to the very gates of Rome, and went away unchastised! The course of our manners, indeed, and the state of our affairs, have long been such, that I had no reason to presage much good: But could I have imagined that so great an ignominy would have befallen me this year, I would by death; or banishment (if all other means had failed) have avoided the station I am now in. What! might Rome then have been taken, if those men who were at our gates had not wanted courage for the attempt!—Rome taken while I was consul—Of honours I had sufficient,—of life enough—more than enough.—I should have died in my third consulate. But who are they that our dastardly enemies thus despise? The consuls, or you Romans? If we are in the fault, depose us, or punish us yet more severely. If you are to blame, may neither God nor man punish your faults! only may you repent. No, Romans, the confidence of our enemies is not owing to their courage, or to the belief of your cowardice. They have been too often vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. Discord, discord is the ruin of this city. The eternal disputes between the senate and the people, are the sole cause of our misfortunes. While we set no bounds to our dominion, nor you to your liberty: While you patiently endure Patrician magistrates, and we Plebeian, our enemies take heart, grow elated and presumptuous. In the name of the immortal gods, what is it, Romans, you would have? You desired tribunes; for the sake of peace we granted them. You were eager to have decemvirs; we consented to their creation. You grew weary of these decemvirs; we obliged them to abdicate. Your hatred pursued them when reduced to private men; and we suffered you to put to death, or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the republic. You insisted upon the restoration of the tribuneship; we yielded; we quietly saw consuls of your faction elected. You have the protection of your tribunes, and the privilege of appeal: the Patricians are subjected to the decrees of the commons. Under pretence of equal and impartial laws, you have invaded our rights, and we have suffered it, and we still suffer it. When shall we see an end of discord? When shall we have one interest and one common country? Victorious and triumphant, you shew less temper than we under defeat. When you are to contend with us, you seize the Aventine hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer.

The enemy is at our gates, the AEsquiline is near being taken, and nobody stirs to hinder it. But against us you are valiant, against us you can arm with diligence. Come on, then, besiege the senate house, make a camp of the forum, fill the jails with our nobles, and when you have achieved these glorious exploits, then at last sally out at the AEsquiline gate, with the same fierce spirits against the enemy. Does your resolution fail you for this? Go, then, and behold from your walls, your lands ravaged, your houses plundered and in flames, the whole country laid waste with fire and sword. Have you any thing here to repair these damages? Will the tribunes make up your losses to you? They'll give you as many words as you please: Bring impeachments in abundance against the prime men of the state: Heap laws upon laws; assemblies you shall have without end. But will any of you return the richer from these assemblies? Extinguish, O Romans, those fatal divisions; generously break this cursed enchantment, which keeps you buried in a scandalous inaction. Open your eyes, and consider the management of these ambitious men, who, to make themselves powerful in their party, study nothing but how they may foment divisions in the commonwealth.

If you can but summon up your former courage; if you will now march out of Rome with your consuls, there is no punishment you can inflict, which I will not submit to, if I do not in a few days drive these pillagers out of our territory. This terror of war (with which you seem so grievously struck) shall quickly be removed from Rome to their own cities.



CAIUS MARIUS to the ROMANS.

It is but too common, my countrymen, to observe a material difference between the behaviour of those who stand candidates, for places of power and trust, before and after their obtaining them. They solicit them in one manner, and execute them in another. They set out with a great appearance of activity, humility, and moderation; and they quickly fall into sloth, pride, and avarice.—It is undoubtedly, no easy matter to discharge, to the general satisfaction, the duty of a supreme commander in troublesome times. I am, I hope, duly sensible of the importance of the office I propose to take upon me, for the service of my country. To carry on, with effect, an expensive war, and yet be frugal of the public money; to oblige those to serve, whom it may be delicate to offend; to conduct, at the same time, a complicated variety of operations; to concert measures at home, answerable to the state of things abroad; and to gain every valuable end, in spite of opposition from the envious, the factious, and the disaffected; to do all this, my countrymen, is more difficult than is generally thought.

But, besides the disadvantages which are common to me, with all others in eminent stations, my case is, in this respect, peculiarly hard; that whereas a commander of Patrician rank, if he is guilty of a neglect, or breach of duty, has his great connection, the antiquity of his family, the important services of his ancestors, and the multitudes he has, by power, engaged in his interest, to screen him from condign punishment; my whole safety depends upon myself; which renders it the more indispensibly necessary for me, to take care that my conduct be clear and unexceptionable. Besides, I am well aware, my country men, that the eye of the public is upon me; and that, though the impartial, who prefer the real advantage of the commonwealth to all other considerations, favour my pretensions, the Patricians want nothing so much as an occasion against me. It is, therefore, my fixed resolution, to use my best endeavours, that you may not be disappointed in me, and that their indirect designs against me may be defeated.

I have, from my youth, been familiar with toils, and with dangers. I was faithful to your interests, my countrymen, when I served you for no reward, but that of honour. It is not my design to betray you, now that you have conferred upon me a place of profit. You have committed to my conduct, the war against Jugurtha. The Patricians are offended at this. But, where would be the wisdom of giving such a command to one of their honourable body? a person of illustrious birth, of ancient family, of innumerable statues, but—of no experience! What service would his long line of dead ancestors, or his multitude of motionless statues, do his country in the day of battle? What could such a general do, but, in his trepidation and inexperience, have recourse to some inferior commander, for direction in difficulties to which he was not himself equal? Thus, your Patrician general would, in fact have a general over him; so that the acting commander would still be a Plebeian. So true is this, my countrymen, that I have myself known those, who have been chosen consuls, begin then to read the history of their own country, of which, till that time, they were totally ignorant: that is, they first obtained the employment, and then bethought themselves of the qualifications necessary for the proper discharge of it.

I submit to your judgment, Romans, on which side the advantage lies, when a comparison is made between Patrician haughtiness and Plebeian experience. The very actions, which they have only read, I have partly seen, and partly myself achieved. What they know by reading, I know by action. They are pleased to slight my mean birth. I despise their mean characters. Want of birth and fortune is the objection against me: want of personal merit against them. But are not all men of the same species? What can make a difference between one man and another but the endowments of the mind? For my part, I shall always look upon the bravest man as the noblest man. Suppose it were enquired of the fathers of such Patricians as Albinus and Bessia, whether, if they had their choice, they would desire sons of their character, or of mine: what would they answer, but that they should wish the worthiest to be their sons. If the Patricians have reason to despise me, let them likewise despise their ancestors, whose nobility was the fruit of their virtue. Do they envy the honours bestowed upon me? let them envy, likewise, my labours, my abstinence, and the dangers I have undergone for my country, by which I have acquired them. But those worthless men lend such a life of inactivity, as if they despised any honours you can bestow; whilst they aspire to honours, as if they had deserved them by the most industrious virtue. They lay claim to the rewards of activity, for their having enjoyed the pleasures of luxury. Yet none can be more lavish than they are in praise of their ancestors: and they imagine they honour themselves by celebrating their forefathers. Whereas, they do the very contrary: for, as much as their ancestors were distinguished for their virtues, so much are they disgraced by their vices.

Observe now, my countrymen, the injustice of the Patricians. They arrogate to themselves honours, on account of the exploits done by their forefathers; whilst they will not allow me the due praise, for performing the very same sort of actions in my own person. He has no statues, they cry, of his family. He can trace no venerable line of ancestors. What then! Is it matter of more praise to disgrace one's illustrious ancestors, than to become illustrious by one's own good behaviour? What if I can shew no statues of my family: I can shew the standards, the armour, and the trappings, which I have taken myself from the vanquished: I can shew the scars of those wounds which I have received by facing the enemies of my country. These are my statues; these are the honours I boast of. Not left me by inheritance as theirs; but earned by toil, by abstinence, by valour; amidst clouds of dust, and seas of blood: scenes of action, where those effeminate Patricians, who endeavour, by indirect means, to depreciate me in your esteem, have never dared to shew their faces.



DEMOSTHENES to the ATHENIANS.

When I compare, Athenians, the speeches of some amongst us, with their actions, I am at a loss to reconcile what I see, with what I hear. Their protestations are full of zeal against the public enemy; but their measures are so inconsistent that all their professions become suspected. By confounding you with a variety of projects, they perplex your resolutions, and lead you from executing what is in your power, by engaging you in schemes not reducible to practice.

'Tis true, there was a time, when we were powerful enough, not only to defend our own borders, and protect our allies, but even to invade Philip in his own dominions. Yes, Athenians, there was such a juncture; I remember it well. But, by neglect of proper opportunities, we are no longer in a situation to be invaders: it will be well for us, if we can procure for our own defence, and our allies. Never did any conjuncture require so much prudence as this. However, I should not despair of seasonable remedies, had I the art to prevail with you to be unanimous in right measures. The opportunities, which have so often escaped us have not been lost; through ignorance, or want of judgment; but through negligence or treachery.—If I assume, at this time, more than ordinary liberty of speech, I conjure you to suffer, patiently, those truths, which have no other end, but your own good. You have too many reasons to be sensible how much you have suffered, by hearkening to sycophants. I shall, therefore, be plain, in laying before you the grounds of past miscarriages, in order to correct you in your future conducts.

You may remember, it is not above three or four years since we had the news of Philip's laying siege to the fortress of Juno, in Thrace. It was, as I think, in October we received this intelligence. We voted an immediate supply of threescore talents; forty men of war were ordered to sea: and so zealous we were, that preferring the necessities of state to our very laws, our citizens above the age of five and forty years, were commanded to serve. What followed?—A whole year was spent idly, without any thing done; and it was but the third month of the following year, a little after the celebration of the feast of Ceres, that Charedemus set sail, furnished with no more than five talents, and ten galleys, not half manned.

A rumour was spread that Philip was sick. That rumour was followed by another, that Philip was dead. And, then, as if all danger died with him, you dropped your preparations: whereas then, then was your time to push, and be active; then was your time to secure yourselves, and confound him at once. Had your resolutions, taken with so much heat, been as warmly seconded by action, you had then been as terrible to Philip, as Philip, recovered, is now to you. "To what purpose, at this time, these reflections! What is done cannot be undone." But, by your leave, Athenians; though past moments are not to be recalled, past errors may be repeated. Have we not now, a fresh provocation to war? Let the memory of oversights, by which you have suffered so much, instruct you to be more vigilant in the present danger. If the Olynthians are not instantly succoured, and with your utmost efforts, you become assistants to Philip, and serve him more effectually than he can help himself.

It is not, surely, necessary to warn you, that votes alone can be of no consequence. Had your resolutions, of themselves, the virtue to compass what you intend, we should not see them multiply every day, as they do, and upon every occasion, with so little effect: nor would Philip be in a condition to brave and affront us in this manner.—Proceed, then, Athenians, to support your deliberations with vigour. You have heads capable of advising what is best; you have judgment and experience, to discern what is right; and you have power and opportunity to execute what you determine. What time so proper for action! What occasion so happy? And when can you hope for such another, if this be neglected? Has not Philip, contrary to all treaties, insulted you in Thrace? Does he not, at this instant, straiten and invade your confederates, whom you have solemnly sworn to protect? Is he not an implacable enemy? a faithless ally? the usurper of provinces, to which he has no title nor pretence? a stranger, a barbarian, a tyrant? and indeed, what is he not?

Observe, I beseech you, men of Athens, how different your conduct appears from the practices of your ancestors. They were friends to truth and plain dealing, and detested flattery and servile compliance. By unanimous consent they continued arbiters of all Greece for the space of forty-five years, without interruption; a public fund, of no less than ten thousand talents, were ready for any emergency: they exercised over the kings of Macedon that authority which is due to Barbarians; obtained, both by sea and land, in their own persons frequent and signal victories and by their noble exploits, transmitted to posterity an immortal memory of their virtue, superior to the reach of malice and detraction. It is to them we owe that great number of public edifices, by which the city of Athens exceeds all the rest of the world, in beauty and magnificence. It is to them we owe so many stately temples, so richly embellished; but, above all, adorned with the spoils of vanquished enemies—But, visit their own private habitations; visit the houses of Aristides, Militiades, or any other of those patriots of antiquity; you will find nothing, not the least mark of ornament, to distinguish them from their neighbours. They took part in the government, not to enrich themselves, but the public; they had no schemes or ambition, but for the public nor knew any interest, but the public. It was by a close and steady application to the general good of their country; by an exemplary piety toward the immortal gods; by a strict faith, and religious honesty, betwixt man and man; and a moderation, always uniform, and of apiece; they established that reputation, which remains to this day, and will last to utmost posterity.

Such, O men of Athens! were your ancestors; so glorious in the eye of the world; so bountiful and munificent to their country; so sparing, so modest, so self-denying to themselves. What resemblance can we find in the present generation, of these great men? At a time, when your ancient competitors have left you a clear stage; when the Lacedemonians are disabled; the Thebans employed in troubles of their own; when no other state whatever is in a condition to rival or molest you: in short, when you are at full liberty; when you have the opportunity and the power to become once more the sole arbiters of Greece; you permit, patiently, whole provinces to be arrested from you; you lavish the public money to scandalous and obscure uses; you suffer your allies to perish in time of peace, whom you preserved in time of war; and, to sum up all, you yourselves, by your mercenary court, and servile resignation to the will and pleasure of designing, insidious leaders, abet, encourage, and strengthen the most dangerous and formidable of your enemies. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man who has confidence enough to deny it? let him arise, and assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip. "But," you reply, "what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater appearance of prosperity! a greater face of plenty? Is not the city enlarged? Are not the streets better paved? houses repaired and beautified?"—Away with such trifles! Shall I be paid with counters? An old square new vamped up! a fountain! an aqueduct! Are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magistrate, under whose ministry you boast these precious improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, all at once, from dirt to opulence; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honours. Have not some of these upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the most sumptuous of our public palaces? And how have their fortunes and their power increased, but as the commonwealth has been ruined and impoverished!

To what are we to impute these disorders? and to what cause assign the decay of a state, so powerful and flourishing in past time?—The reason is plain. The servant is now become the master. The magistrate was then subservient to the people: punishments and rewards were properties of the people: all honours, dignities, and preferments were disposed by the voice and favour of the people. But the magistrate, now, has usurped the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary authority over his ancient and natural lord. You miserable people! the mean while, without money, without friends; from being the ruler, are become the servant; from being the master, the dependant: happy that these governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your own power, are so good, and so gracious, as to continue your poor allowance to see plays.

Believe me, Athenians, if recovering from this lethargy, you would assume the ancient freedom and spirit of your fathers; if you would be your own soldiers, and your own commanders, confiding no longer your affairs in foreign or mercenary hands; if you would charge yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for the public, what you waste in unprofitable pleasures at home, the world might, once more, behold you making a figure worthy of Athenians. "You would have us then (you say) do service in our armies, in our own persons; and for so doing, you would have the pensions we receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. Is it thus we are to understand you?"—Yes, Athenians, 'tis my plain meaning. I would make it a standing rule, that no person, great or little, should be the better for the public money, who should grudge to employ it for the public service. Are we in peace? the public is charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or under a necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war? let your gratitude oblige you to accept, as pay, in defence of your benefactors, what you receive, in peace, as mere bounty.—Thus, without any innovation, without altering or abolishing any thing, but pernicious novelties, introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness; by converting only for the future the same funds for the use of the serviceable, which are spent, at present, upon the unprofitable; you may be well served in your armies; your troops regularly paid; justice duly administered; the public revenues reformed and increased; and every member of the commonwealth rendered useful to his country, according to his age and ability, without any further burden to the state.

This, O men of Athens! is what my duty prompted me to represent to you upon this occasion.—May the gods inspire you to determine upon such measures as may be most expedient for the particular and general good of our country!



THE PERFECT SPEAKER.

Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes addressing the most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended.—How awful such a meeting! How vast the subject! Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great occasion? Adequate—yes, superior. By the power of his eloquence; the augustness of the assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator; and the importance of the subject for a while superceded by the admiration of his talents. With what strength of argument, with what powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and subjugate the whole man, and, at once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his passions!—To effect this, must be the utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature. Not a faculty that he possesses, is here unemployed: not a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his internal powers are at work: all his external testify their energies. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the passions are all busy: without, every muscle, every nerve is exerted; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the body attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously, and, as it were, with an electrical spirit, vibrate those energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one mass—the whole assembly actuated in one and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice. The universal cry is—LET US MARCH AGAINST PHILIP—LET US FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES—LET US CONQUER—OR DIE!



On the duties of School-Boys, from the pious and judicious

ROLLIN.

Quintillian says, that he has included almost all the duty of scholars in this one piece of advice which he gives them, to love those who teach them, as they love the science which they learn of them; and to look upon them as fathers, from whom they derive not the life of the body, but that instruction which is in a manner the life of the soul. Indeed this sentiment of affection, and respect suffices to make them apt to learn during the time of their studies, and full of gratitude all the rest of their lives. It seems to me to include a great part of what is to be expected from them.

Docility, which consists in submitting to directions, in readily receiving the instructions of their masters; and reducing them to practice, is properly the virtue of scholars, as that of masters is to teach well. The one can do nothing without the other; and as it is not sufficient for a labourer to sow the seed, unless the earth, after having opened its bosom to receive it, in a manner hatches, warms, and moistens it; so likewise the whole fruit of instruction depends upon a good correspondence between the masters and the scholars.

Gratitude for those who have laboured in our education, is the character of an honest man, and the mark of a good heart. Who is there among us, says Cicero, that has been instructed with any care, that is not highly delighted with the sight, or even the bare remembrance of his preceptors, masters, and the place where he was taught and brought up? Seneca exhorts young men to preserve always a great respect for their masters, to whose care they are indebted for the amendment of their faults, and for having imbibed sentiments of honour and probity. Their exactness and severity displease sometimes, at an age when we are not in a condition to judge of the obligations we owe to them; but when years have ripened our understanding and judgment, we then discern that what made us dislike them, I mean admonitions, reprimands, and a severe exactness in restraining the passions of an imprudent and inconsiderate age, is expressly the very thing which should make us esteem and love them. Thus we see that Marcus Aurelius, one of the wisest and most illustrious emperors that Rome ever had, thanked the gods for two things especially—for his having had excellent tutors himself, and that he had found the like for his children.

Quintillian, after having noted the different characters of the mind in children, draws, in a few words, the image of what he judged to be a perfect scholar; and certainly it is a very amiable one: "For my part," says he, "I like a child who is encouraged by commendation, is animated by a sense of glory, and weeps when he is outdone. A noble emulation will always keep him in exercise, a reprimand will touch him to the quick, and honour will serve instead of a spur. We need not fear that such a scholar will ever give himself up to sullenness." Mihi ille detur puer, quem laus excitet, quem gloria juvet, qui virtus fleut. Hic erit alendus ambitu: hunc mordebit objurgetio; hunc honor excitabit; in hoc desidium nunquam verebor.

How great a value soever Quintillian sets upon the talents of the mind, he esteems those of the heart far beyond them, and looks upon the others as of no value without them. In the same chapter from whence I took the preceding words, he declares, he should never have a good opinion of a child, who placed his study in occasioning laughter, by mimicking the behaviour, mien, and faults of others; and he presently gives an admirable reason for it: "A child," says he, "cannot be truly ingenuous, in my opinion, unless he be good and virtuous; otherwise, I should rather choose to have him dull and heavy, than of a bad disposition." Non dubit spem bonoe indolis, qui hoc initandi studio petit, ut rideatur. Nam probus quoque imprimus erit ille vere ingeniosus: alioquinon pejus duxerim tardi esse ingenii, quam mali.

He displays to us all these talents in the eldest of his two children, whose character he draws, and whose death he laments in so eloquent and pathetic a strain, in the beautiful preface to his sixth book. I shall beg leave to insert here a small extract of it, which will not be useless to the boys, as they will find it a model which suits well with their age and condition.

Alter having mentioned his younger son, who died at five years old, and described the graces and beauties of his countenance, the prettiness of his expression, the vivacity of his understanding, which began to shine through the veil of childhood: "I had still left me," says he, "my son Quintillian, in whom I placed all my pleasure and all my hopes, and comfort enough I might have found in him; for, having now entered into his tenth year, he did not produce only blossoms like his younger brother, but fruits already formed, and beyond the power of disappointment.—I have much experience; but I never saw in any child, I do not say only so many excellent dispositions for the sciences, nor so much taste, as his masters know, but so much probity, sweetness, good nature, gentleness, and inclination to please and oblige, as I discerned in him."

"Besides this, he had all the advantages of nature, a charming voice, a pleasing countenance, and a surprising facility in pronouncing well the two languages, as if he had been equally born for both of them.

"But all this was no more than hopes. I set a greater value upon his admirable virtues, his equality of temper, his resolution, the courage with which he bore up against fear and pain; for, how were his physicians astonished at his patience under a distemper of eight months continuance, when at the point of death he comforted me himself, and bade me not to weep for him! and delirious as he sometimes was at his last moments, his tongue ran on nothing else but learning and the sciences: O vain and deceitful hopes!" &c.

Are there many boys amongst us, of whom we can truly say so much to their advantage, as Quintillian says here of his son? What a shame would it be for them, if born and brought up in a Christian country, they had not even the virtues of Pagan children! I make no scruple to repeat them here again—docility, obedience, respect for their masters, or rather a degree of affection, and the source of an eternal gratitude; zeal for study, and a wonderful thirst after the sciences, joined to an abhorrence of vice and irregularity; an admirable fund of probity, goodness, gentleness, civility, and liberality; as also patience, courage, and greatness of soul in the course of a long sickness.—What then was wanting to all these virtues?—That which alone could render them truly worthy the name, and must be in a manner the soul of them, and constitute their whole value, the precious gift of faith and piety; the saving knowledge of a Mediator; a sincere desire of pleasing God, and referring all our actions to him.



COLUMBIA.

BY THE REVEREND DR. DWIGHT.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and child of the skies! Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold, While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name, Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy fame.

To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire; Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws, Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause; On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise; Extend with the main and dissolve with the skies.

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star, New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar To fame, unextinguish'd, when time is no more; To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd, Shall fly from all nations, the best of mankind; Here, grateful to Heaven, with transports shall bring Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.

Nor less, shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend; The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire; Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd, And virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind, With peace, and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.

Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display, The nations admire, and the ocean obey; Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow, And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow; While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd, Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, From war's dread confusion, I pensively stray'd— The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd; The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd; Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along, And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung: "Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies"



THE CHOICE OF A RURAL LIFE.

A POEM,

Written by W.L. Esq. Gov. of N.J.

THE ARGUMENT.

The subject proposed. Situation of the author's house. His frugality in his furniture. The beauties of the country. His love of retirement, and choice of his friends. A description of the morning. Hymn to the sun. Contemplation of the Heavens. The existence of God inferred from a view of the beauty and harmony of the creation. Morning and evening devotion. The vanity of riches and grandeur. The choice of his books. Praise of the marriage state. A knot of modern ladies described. The author's exit.

PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, &c.

Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; To shining palaces let fools resort, And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at court: Mine be the pleasure of a rural life, From noise remote, and ignorant of strife; Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau, The lawless masquerade and midnight show; From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars, Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars.

Full in the centre of some shady grove, By nature form'd for solitude and love; On banks array'd with ever-blooming flow'rs, Near beaut'ous landscapes, or by roseate bow'rs, My neat, but simple mansion I would raise, Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days; Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd, With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd.

No costly furniture should grace my hall; But curling vines ascend against the wall, Whose pliant branches shou'd luxuriant twine, While purple clusters swell'd with future wine To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distill, From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill. Along my mansion spiry firs should grow, And gloomy yews extend the shady row;

The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies: Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs play, And crouding trees exclude the noon-tide ray; Whereon the birds their downy nests should form, Securely shelter'd from the batt'ring storm; And to melodious notes their choir apply, Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky: While all around the enchanting music rings, And every vocal grove reponsive sings.

Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses guide, Where nature wanton's in her virgin pride, To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flow'rs, Elysian fields and amaranthian bow'rs; T' ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills, To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and funny hills.

Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms! Ye forests hail! ye solitary woods! Love-whispering groves and silver-streaming floods! Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale! Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties hail! Oh how I long with you to spend my days, Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays!

No trumpets there with martial clangor found, No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground; No groves of lances glitter in the air, Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war; but white-rob'd peace, and universal love Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry grove, There all the beauties of the circling year, In native ornamental pride appear; Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and April show'rs; Wake from the womb of earth the rising flow'rs: In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the plain, And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden grain; The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales: The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom, Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume; On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise. And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes. In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous day, Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay; From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove, Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove, Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades.

There from the polish'd fetters of the great, Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state; Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves; Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves; From all the vain formality of fools, An odious task of arbitrary rules; The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy, The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy, The visionary bliss the world can lend, The insidious foe, and false designing friend, The seven-fold fury of Xantippe's soul, And S——'s rage that burns without controul; I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene, Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen.

Yet not a real hermitage I'd chuse, Nor wish to live from all the world recluse; But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul, In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl. With cheerful W——, serene and wisely gay, I'd often pass the dancing hours away; He skill'd alike to profit and to please, Politely talks with unaffected ease; Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust, Mature in science, and severely just; Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd, Breathing benevolence to all mankind; Cautious to censure, ready to commend, A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod, In early youth a minister of God: Each pupil lov'd him when at Yale he shone, And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone. Dear A——, too, should grace my rural seat, Forever welcome to the green retreat: Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd His florid genius, and capacious mind: Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng, Celestial truths devolving from his tongue; High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand, Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand: With such becoming grace and pompous sound, With long-rob'd senators encircled round, Before the Roman bar, while Rome was free, Nor bow'd to Caesar's throne the servile knee; Immortal Tully pleads the patriot cause, While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause. Next round my board should candid S—— appear, Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere, Averse to discord party-rage and strife, He sails serenely down the stream of life. With these three friends beneath a spreading shade, Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade; Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs, In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hours; Or gravely talk, or innocently sing, Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string.

Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding streams, Druids and Bards enjoy'd serenest dreams. Such was the seat where courtly Horace sung: And his bold harp immortal Maro strung: Where tuneful Orpheus' unresisted lay, Made rapid tygers bear their rage away; While groves attentive to th' extatic sound Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd around. Such feats the venerable Seers of old (When blissful years in golden circles roll'd) Chose and admir'd: e'en Goddesses and Gods (As poets feign) were fond of such abodes: Th' imperial consort of fictitious Jove, For fount full Ida forsook the realms above. Oft to Idalia on a golden cloud, Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, Venus rode; The num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd, And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows prefer'd, While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train) With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign. The silver-shafted Huntress of the woods, Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods. In palmy Delos, by Scamander's side, Or when Cajister roll'd his silver tide, Melodious Phoebus sang; the Muses round Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound. E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode, High thron'd in gold, of Gods the sov'reign God, Oft time prefer'd the shade of Ida's grove To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd cups above.

Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning dawn, In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn! Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream, Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim. Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs, Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow With all the colours of the show'ry bow The industrious bees their balmy toil renew, Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew. But yonder comes th'illustrious God of day, Invests the east, and gilds the etherial way; The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing, Echo the mountains and the vallies ring.

Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and fire, That bids each sable shade of night retire! Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd, Darting a deluge of effulgence round! Wak'd by thy genial and praline ray, Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay; Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants revive, The groves reflourish, and forests live. Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore Confesses thy consolidating pow'r: Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould The fusile silver and the ductile gold: Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field. If thou so fair with delegated light, That all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight; With what effulgence must the ocean glow! From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow! Th' exhaustless force whose single smiles supplies, Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies!

Oft would I view, in admiration lost, Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host; With level'd tube and astronomic eye, Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky: Immeasurable vaults! where thunders roll, And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole. Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day, Th' harmonious structure of this vast machine, And not confess its Architect divine? Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be thy soul, Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl; Plunge into vice, humanity resign, Go, fill the stie, and bristle into swine?

None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies He made the whole; at his omnific call, } From formless chaos rose this spacious ball, } And one ALMIGHTY GOD is seen in all. } By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread. What countless wonders doth the earth contain! What countless wonders the unfathom'd main! Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine, Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine. JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round. In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound; Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing, And praise their Maker while they hail the spring: The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar, While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore. But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind, His Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd; To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise, And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise.

When rising Phoebus ushers in the morn, And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn: Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods, Or the soft music of the waving woods; Rising from sleep with the melodious quire, To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre. Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on my tongue, Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song: (Delightful task! with dawning light to sing, Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.) Some courteous angel should my breast inspire, Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire, While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound, Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round; While mazy streams meand'ring to the main Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly strain; And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng, Attentive listen to the tuneful song.

Father of Light! exhaustless source of good! Supreme, eternal, self-existent God! Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray, Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day; Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd light, Shone queen amid the silver host of night; High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord, By suppliant angels worship'd and ador'd. With the celestial choir then let me join, In cheerful praises to the pow'r Divine. To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! inspire, A mortal breast with more than mortal fire; In dreadful majesty thou sit'st enthron'd, With light encircled, and with glory crown'd; Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign, For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain; But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky, Thy Omnipresence fills immensity. Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring, And radient Martyrs hallelujahs sing: Heav'n's universal host their voices raise, In one eternal chorus, to thy praise; And round thy awful throne, with one accord, Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord. At thy creative voice, from ancient night, Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of light: Thou spak'st—the planetary Chorus roll'd And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold; Let there be light, said GOD—Light instant shone, And from the orient, burst the golden Sun; Heav'n's gazing hierarchies, with glad surprise, Saw the first morn invest the skies, And straight th' exulting troops thy throne surround, With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound: Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!) Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains: Great are thy works, they sing, and, all around, Great are thy works, the echoing heav'n's resound. The effulgent sun, insufferably bright, Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light; The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd, Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world; Thou bow'st the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod; Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God; Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast, And impious kings in horror breath their last. To this great God alternately I'd pay, The evening anthem, and the morning lay.

For sov'reign Gold I never would repine, Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine. What tho' high columns heave into the skies, Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise; Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn, The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn! Or what, alas! avails the gay attire, To wretched man, who breathes but to expire! Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd, To shew their meanness in the sight of God. High from a dung-hill, see a Dives rise, And, Titan-like, insult th' avenging skies: The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord, By thousands courted, flatter'd, and ador'd: In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys, No higher thought his grov'ling foul employs: The poor he scourges with an iron rod, And from his bosom banishes his God. But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom, Deluded man is fated to the tomb! For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour flies, And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes: Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan, Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him gone; His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r, Deplores his death—yet hails the dying hour. Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die! Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy! His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light, Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night: "And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er, "And cold in death thy bosom beats no more, "Thy foul exulting shall desert its clay, "And mount, triumphant, to eternal day." But to improve the intellectual mind, Reading should be to contemplation join'd. First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring, What muses dictate, and what poets sing.— Virgil, as Prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown, And other bards pay homage to his throne; The blood of heroes now effus'd so long, Will run forever purple thro' his song. See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes, On planets rides, and talks with demi-gods! How do our ravish'd spirits melt away, When in his song Sicilian shepherds play! But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye, When Dido shines in awful majesty! Embroider'd purple clad the Tyrian queen, Her motion graceful, and august her mein; A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd, A golden quiver rattled by her waist. See her proud steed majestically prance, Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance! In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold! He champs the bitt, and throws the foam around, Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground. How stern AEneas thunders thro' the field! With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield! Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain. Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie, Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die. Thro' the thick squadrons see the Hero bound, (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!) All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turnus' head, (Re-kindled ire! for blooming Pallas dead) Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade— The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade!

The far-fam'd bards that grac'd Britannia's isle, Should next compose the venerable pile. Great Milton first, for tow'ring thought renown'd, Parent of song, and fam'd the world around! His glowing breast divine Urania fir'd, Or GOD himself th' immortal Bard inspir'd. Borne on triumphant wings he take this flight, Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light: In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train, While warring myriads shake th' etherial plain. First Michael stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest; With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest: Impenetrable arms his limbs unfold, Eternal adamant, and burning gold! Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight, Rebellious Satan animates the fight: Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke, All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook, To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms; In radient panoply divinely bright, His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring light, On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road Thunder'd the chariot of thy Filial God; The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd, With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd. Lo! the apostate host, with terror struck, Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean shook! Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold, Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion roll'd; Till, from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd, Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal world.

Then tuneful Pope, whom all the nine inspire, With saphic sweetness, and pindaric fire. Father of verse! melodious and divine! Next peerless Milton should distinguish'd shine. Smooth flow his numbers when he paints the grove, Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love. But when the night and hoarse resounding storm, Rush on the deep, and Neptune's face deform, Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore. But when he sings th' exhilerated swains, Th' embow'ring groves, and Windsor's blissful plains, Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene, Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green: His lays the verdure of the meads prolong, And wither'd forests blossom in his song; Thames' silver streams his flowing verse admire, And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre.

Next shou'd appear great Dryden's lofty muse, For who would Dryden's polish'd verse refuse? His lips were moisten'd in Parnassus' spring, And Phoebus taught his laureat son to sing. How long did Virgil untranslated moan, His beauties fading, and his flights unknown; Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain, Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man? Again the Trojan prince with dire delight, Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight: Again Camilla glows with martial fire, Drives armies back, and makes all Troy retire. With more than native lustre Virgil shines, And gains sublimer heights in Dryden's lines.

The gentle Watts, who strings his silver lyre To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling fire; Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage, And mounts yon sparkling worlds with hallow'd rage, Compels my thoughts to wing the heav'nly road, And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God; No fabled Nine harmonious bard! inspire Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire; But prompting Angels warm thy boundless rage, Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page. Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd, Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd; Blest man! from gay delusive scenes remov'd, Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd; To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays, Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah's praise. Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight, To paint Religion in her native light, Not then with Plays the lab'ring' press would groan, Nor Vice defy the Pulpit and the Throne; No impious rhymer charm a vicious age, Nor prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage: But themes divine in lofty numbers rise, Fill the wide earth, and echo through the skies.

These for Delight;—for Profit I would read, The labour'd volumes of the learned dead: Sagacious Locke, by Providence design'd T' exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind. Th' unconquerable Sage,[A] whom virtue fir'd, And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd, When victor Caesar freed unhappy Rome, From Pompey's chains, to substitute his own. Longinius, Livy, fam'd Thucydides, Quintillian, Plato and Demosthenes, Persuasive Tully, and Corduba's Sage,[B] Who fell by Nero's unrelenting rage; Him[C] whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed, Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead. Raleigh I'd read with ever fresh delight, While ages past rise present to my fight: Ah man unblest! he foreign realms explor'd, Then fell a victim to his country's sword! Nor should great Derham pass neglected by, } Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye } Nature's stupendous works expanded lie. }

Nor he, Britannia, thy unmatch'd renown! (Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown) Who on the solar orb uplifted rode, And scan'd th' unfathomable works of God, Who bound the silver planets to their spheres, And trac'd th' elliptic curve of blazing stars! Immortal Newton; whole illustrious name Will shine on records of eternal fame.

[Footnote A: Cato.]

[Footnote B: Seneca.]

[Footnote C: Socrates.]

By love directed, I wou'd choose a wife, T' improve my bliss and ease the load of life. Hail Wedlock! hail, inviolable tye! Perpetual fountain of domestic joy! Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight, Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite. In Eden first the holy state begun, When perfect innocence distinguish'd man; The human pair, th' Almighty Pontiff led, Gay as the morning to the bridal bed; A dread solemnity th' espousals grac'd, Angels the Witnesses, and GOD the PRIEST! All earth exulted on the nuptial hour, And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r! The joyous birds, on ev'ry blossom'd spray, Sung Hymenians to th' important day, While Philomela swell'd the sponsal song, And Paradise with gratulations rung.

Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find A blooming virgin with an angel mind, Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin quire That fed, O Rome! thy consecrated fire; By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good, Averse to vice, and zealous for her God? Relate, in what blest region can I find Such bright perfections in a female mind? What Phoenix-woman breathes the vital air, So greatly greatly good, and so divinely fair? Sure, not the gay and fashionable train, Licentious, proud, immoral and prophane; Who spend their golden hours in antic dress, Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease.—

Lo! round the board a shining train appears, In rosy beauty, and in prime of years! This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves, This shews the trophies of her former loves; Polly avers that Sylvia dress in green, When last at church the gaudy Nymph was seen; Chloe condemns her optics, and will lay 'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey; Lucy invested with judicial pow'r, Awards 'twas neither—and the strife is o'er.

Then parrots, lap-dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaus, Fans, ribbands, tuckers, patches, furbaloes, In quick succession, thro' their fancies run, And dance incessant on the flippant tongue. And when fatigued with ev'ry other sport, The belles prepare to grace the sacred court, They marshal all their forces in array, To kill with glances and destroy in play. Two skilful maids, with reverential fear, In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair; Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples pour The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial show'r; One pulls the shape-creating stays, and one Encircles round her waist the golden zone: Not with more toil t' improve immortal charms, Strove Juno, Venus, and the Queen of Arms, When Priam's Son adjudg'd the golden prize To the resistless beauty of the skies. At length equip'd in love's enticing arms, With all that glitters and with all that charms, Th' ideal goddesses to church repair, Peep thro' the fan and mutter o'er a pray'r, Or listen to the organ's pompous sound, Or eye the gilded images around; Or, deeply studied in coquetish rules, Aim wily glances at unthinking fools; Or shew the lilly hand with graceful air, Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair: And when the hated discipline is o'er, And Misses tortur'd with Repent no more, They mount the pictur'd coach, and to the play The celebrated idols hie away.

Not so the Lass that shou'd my joys improve, With solid friendship, and connubial love: A native bloom, with intermingled white, Should set features in a pleasing light; Like Helen flushing with unrival'd charms. When raptur'd Paris darted in her arms. But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek, A downy bosom, or a snowy neck! Charms ill supply the want of innocence, Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence: But in her breast let moral beauties shine, Supernal grace and purity divine: Sublime her reason, and her native wit Unstrain'd with pedantry and low conceit; Her fancy lively, and her judgment free, From female prejudice and bigotry: Averse to idle pomp, and outward show, The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau.

The fop's impertinence she should despise, Tho' sorely wounded by her radient eyes; But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind By learning polish'd, and by wit refin'd, Who all her virtues, without guile, commends, And all her faults as freely reprehends. Soft Hymen's rites her passion should approve, And in her bosom glow the flames of love: To me her foul, by sacred friendship turn, And I, for her, with equal friendship burn; In ev'ry stage of life afford relief, Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief; Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful road, Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode; Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n, Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heav'n. This be the partner, this the lovely wife That should embellish and prolong my life; A nymph! who might a second fall inspire, And fill a glowing Cherub with desire! With her I'd spend the pleasurable day, While fleeting minutes gaily danc'd away: With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green, Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene, Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs, Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs, Imparadis'd within my eager arms, I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms: Oft on her panting bosom would I lay, And, in dissolving raptures, melt away; Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest, My blooming fair should slumber at my breast.

And when decrepid age (frail mortals doom!) Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb, No warbling Syrens should retard my flight, To heav'nly mansions of unclouded light; Tho' death, with his imperial horrors crown'd, Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd, Offences pardon'd, and remitted sin, Should form a calm serenity within: Blessing my natal and my mortal hour, (My soul committed to th' eternal pow'r) Inexorable death should smile, for I, Who knew to LIVE, would never fear to DIE.



HYMNS

HYMN I.

Begin the high celestial strain, My ravish'd soul, and sing, A solemn hymn of grateful praise To heav'n's Almighty King. Ye curling fountains, as ye roll Your silver waves along, Whisper to all your verdant shores The subject of my song. Retain it long y' echoing rocks, The sacred sound retain, And from your hollow winding caves Return it oft again. Bear it, ye winds, on all your wings, To distant climes away, And round the wide extended world My lofty theme convey. Take the glad burden of his name, Ye clouds, as you arise, Whether to deck the golden morn, Or shade the ev'ning skies. Let harmless thunders roll along The smooth etherial plain, And answer from the crystal vault To ev'ry flying strain. Long let it warble round the spheres, And echo through the sky, Till Angels, with immortal skill, Improve the harmony. While I, with sacred rapture fir'd, The blest Creator sing, And warble consecrated lays To heav'n's Almighty King.

HYMN II—ON HEAVEN.

Hail sacred Salem! plac'd on high, Seat of the mighty King! What thought can grasp thy boundless bliss, What tongue thy glories sing? Thy crystal tow'rs and palaces Magnificently rise, And dart their beaut'ous lustre round The empyrean skies. The voice of triumph in thy streets And acclamations found, Gay banquets in thy splendid courts And purest joys abound. Bright smiles on ev'ry face appear, Rapture in ev'ry eye; From ev'ry mouth glad anthems flow, And charming harmony. Illustrious day for ever there, Streams from the face divine; No pale-fac'd moon e'er glimmers forth, Nor stars nor sun decline. No scorching heats, no piercing colds, The changing seasons bring; But o'er the fields mild breezes there Breathe an eternal spring. The flow'rs with lasting beauty shine, And deck the smiling ground, While flowing streams of pleasures all The happy plains surround.

HYMN III.—THE CREATION.

Now let the spacious world arise, Said the creator Lord: At once th' obedient earth and skies Rose at his sov'reign word. Dark was the deep, the waters lay Confus'd, and drown'd the land; He call'd the light, the new-born day Attends on his command. He bids the clouds ascend on high; The clouds ascend, and bear A wat'ry treasure to the sky, And float on softer air. The liquid element below, Was gather'd by his hand; The rolling seas together flow, And leave a solid land: With herbs and plants (a flow'ry birth) The naked globe he crown'd, Ere there was rain to bless the earth, Or sun to warm the ground. Then he adorn'd the upper skies, Behold the sun appears, The moon and stars in order rise, To mark our months and years. Out of the deep th' Almighty King Did vital beings frame, And painted fowls of ev'ry wing, And fish of ev'ry name, He gave the lion and the worm At once their wond'rous birth; And grazing beasts of various form Rose from the teeming earth. Adam was form'd of equal clay, The sov'reign of the rest; Design'd for nobler ends than they, With God's own image blest. Thus glorious in the Maker's eye, The young Creation stood; He saw the building from on high, His word pronounc'd it good.

THE LORD'S PRAYER.

Father of all! we bow to thee, Who dwells in heav'n ador'd; But present still thro' all thy works, The universal Lord. All hallow'd be thy sacred name, O'er all the nations known; Advance the kingdom of thy grace, And let thy glory come. A grateful homage may we yield, With hearts resigned to thee; And as in heav'n thy will is done, On earth so let it be. From day to day we humbly own The hand that feeds us still; Give us our bread, and we may rest Contented in thy will. Our sins and trespasses we own; O may they be forgiv'n! That mercy we to others shew, We pray the like from Heav'n. Our life let still thy grace direct, From evil guard our way, And in temptation's fatal path Permit us not to stray. For thine the pow'r, the kingdom thine, All glory's due to thee: Thine from eternity they were, And thine shall ever be.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.—BY MR. POPE.

Father of all, in ev'ry age, In ev'ry clime ador'd; By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. Thou great First Cause, least understood; Who all my sense confin'd, To know but this, that thou art good, And that myself am blind: Yet gave me in this dark estate, To see the good from ill; And binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human Will. What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than heav'n pursue. What blessings thy free bounty gives; Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T' enjoy is to obey. Yet not to earth's contracted span Thy goodness let me bound, Or think thee Lord alone of Man, When thousand worlds are round: Let not this weak unknowing hand Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land, On each I judge thy foe. If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O teach my heart To find that better way. Save me alike from foolish pride, Or impious discontent, At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, Or aught thy goodness lent. Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others shew, That mercy show to me. Mean though I am, not wholly so, Since quicken'd by thy breath; Oh lead me wheresoe'er I go, Through this day's life or death. This day be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou knowst if best bestow'd or not, And let thy will be done. To thee, whose temple is all space, Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! One chorus let all being raise! All nature's incense rise!



CHARACTER OF MAN.

Know then thyself; presume not God to scan The proper study of mankind, is man. Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great; With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt, to deem himself a 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 such, Whether he thinks too little or too much: Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd; Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd: Created, half to rise, 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, jest, and riddle of the world!