His fecond Seat; and Rival to the Skies.
The private Path, the fecret Acts of Men,
If noble, far the nobleft of our Lives!
How far above LORENZO's Glory fits

Th' illuftrious Master of a Name unknown;
Whofe Worth unrivall'd, and unwitnefs'd, loves
Life's facred Shades, where Gods converse with Men
And Peace, beyond the World's Conception, fmiles
As Thou, now dark, before we part, shalt fee.

BUT thy Great Soul this fkulking Glory fcorns :
LORENZO'S fick, but when LORENZO's feen i
And, when he shrugs at public Bus'nefs, lyes;;
Deny'd the public Eye, the public Voice,
As if he liv'd on others Breath, he dies:
Fain would he make the World his Pedestal;
Mankind the Gazers, the fole Figure, He:
Knows he, that Mankind praise against their Will,.
And mix as much Detraction as they can ?
Knows he, that faithlefs Fame her Whisper has,
As well as Trumpet? That his Vanity

Is fo much tickled from not hearing All?
Knows this All-Knower, that from Itch of Praise,
Or, from an Itch more fordid, when he shines,
Taking his Country by Five hundred Ears,

Senates at once admire him, and despise,
With modeft Laughter lining loud Applause,

Which makes the Smile more mortal to his Fame?
His Fame, which, (like the mighty Cæfar) crown'd
With Laurels, in full Senate, greatly falls,
By feeming Friends, that honour, and deftroy..
We rife in Glory, as we fink in Pride:
Where Boafting ends, there Dignity begins::
And yet, mistaken beyond all Mistake,
The Blind LORENZO's proud-of being Proud;
And dreams himself ascending in his Fall.

A

AN Eminence, though fancy'd, turns the Brain; All Vice wants Hellebore; but, of all Vice, Pride loudest calls, and for the largest Bowl; Because, all other Vice unlike, it flies, In Fact, the Point, in Fancy, most purfu'd. Who court Applaufe, oblige the World in this; They gratify Man's Paffion to refufe: Superior Honour, when affum'd, is loft; Ev'n Good Men turn Banditti, and rejoice, Like Kouli-Kan, in Plunder of the Proud. THO' fomewhat difconcerted, steady still To the World's Cause, with half a Face of Joy, Lorenzo cries-" Be, then, Ambition caft ; "Ambition's Dearer far ftands unimpeach'd, "Gay Pleasure! Proud Ambition is her Slave; "For Her, he foars at Great, and hazards Ill; "For Her, he fights, and bleeds, or overcomes; "And paves his Way, with Crowns, to reach Her "Smile;

"Who can refift Her Charms?"-Or, fhould? Lorenzo!
What Mortal shall refift, where Angels yield?
Pleasure's the Mistress of Ethereal Pow'rs;
For Her contend the Rival Gods above;
Pleafure's the Mistress of the World below;
And well it is for Man, that Pleasure charms:
How would All stagnate, but for Pleasure's Ray}
How would the frozen Stream of Action cease?
What is the Pulfe of this fo bufy World?
The Love of Pleasure: That, thro' ev'ry Vein,
Throws Motion, Warmth; and fhuts out Death from
Life.

THO' various are the Tempers of Mankind,
Pleafure's gay Family holds All in Chains:
Some most affect the Black; and fome, the Fair
Some honest Pleasure court; and fome, obfcene:
Pleasures obfcene are various, as the Throng

Of

Of Paffions, that can err in human Hearts;

Miftake their Objects, or tranfgrefs their Bounds:

Think you there's but One Whoredom? Whoredom,

All,

But when our Reason licenfes Delight :

Doft doubt, Lorenzo? Thou shalt doubt no more :-
Thy Father chides thy Gallantries, yet hugs
An ugly, common Harlot, in the Dark,
A rank Adulterer with others Gold;

And that Hag, Vengeance, in a Corner, charms
Hatred her Brothel has, as well as Love,
Where horrid Epicures debauch in Blood;
Whate'er the Motive, Pleafure is the Mark:
For Her, the black Affaffin draws his Sword;
For Her, dark Statesmen trim their Midnight Lamp,
To which no fingle Sacrifice may fall;

For Her, the Saint abftains; the Mifer starves
The Stoic proud, for Pleasure, Pleasure scorn'd;:
For Her, Affliction's Daughters Grief indulge,
And find, or hope, a Luxury in Tears;
For Her, Guilt, Shame, Toil, Danger, we defy
And, with an Aim voluptuous, rush on Death.
Thus univerfal her defpotic Pow'r.

AND as her Empire wide, her Praise is juft:~
Patron of Pleafure! Doater on Delight!
I am thy Rival; Pleafure I profess;

Pleasure, the Purpose of my gloomy Song;
Pleasure is nought but Virtue's gayer Name:
I wrong her ftill, I rate her Worth too low;
Virtue the Root, and Pleasure is the Flower;
And honeft Epicurus' Foes were Fools.

BUT this founds harsh, and gives the Wife Offence;
If o'erftrain'd Wisdom ftill retains the Name:
How knits Aufterity her cloudy Brow,
And blames, as bold, and hazardous, the Praife
Of Pleasure, to Mankind, unprais'd, too dear?

Ye

Ye modern Stoics! hear my foft Reply;
Their Senfes Men will truft: We can't impofe;
Or, if we could, is Impofition right?

Own Honey fweet; but, owning, add this Sting;
"When mixt with Poison, it is deadly too."
Truth never was indebted to a Lye ::

Is nought but Virtue to be prais'd, as Good
Why then is Health preferr'd before Disease?
What Nature loves is Good, without our Leave:
And where no future Drawback cries, "Beware:"
Pleasure, though not from Virtue, should prevail :
'Tis Balm to Life, and Gratitude to Heav'n;
How cold our. Thanks for Bounties unenjoy'd?
The Love of Pleasure, is, Man's Eldest born,
Born in his Cradle, living to his Tomb ;-
Wisdom, her younger Sifter, tho' more grave,
Was meant to minister, and not to mar,
Imperial Pleafure; Queen of human Hearts.

LORENZO! Thou, her Majefty's renown'd,
Tho' uncoift, Counfel, learned. in the World!
Who think'ft thyfelf a MURRAY, with Difdain
Mayft look on me; Yet, my Demofthenes!
Canft thou plead Pleafure's Caufe as well as I?
Know'st thou her Nature, Purpofe, Parentage?
Attend my Song, and thou fhalt know them all;
And know Thyself; and know thyself to be
(Strange Truth!) the most abstemious Man alive:
Tell not Califa; fhe will laugh thee dead;
Or fend thee to her Hermitage with L——.
Abfurd Prefumption! Thou, who never knew'ft
A ferious Thought! fhalt thou dare dream of Joy?
No Man e'er found a happy Life by Chance,
Or yawn'd it into Being, with a Wish;
Or, with the Snout of grov'ling Appetite,

E'er fmelt it out, and grubb'd it from the Dirt;
An Art it is, and. must be learnt; and learnt

With unremitting Effort, or be loft;

And leave us perfect Blockheads, in our Blifs:
The Clouds may drop down Titles, and Estates ;
Wealth may feek Us; but Wifdom must be Soughts
Sought before All; but (how unlike All elfe

We seek on Earth ?) 'tis never fought in vain.

FIRST, Pleasure's Birth, Rife, Strength, and Grandeur, fee:

Brought forth by Wisdom, nurft by Difcipline,
By Patience taught, by Perfeverance crown'd,
She rears her Head majestic; round her Throne
Erected in the Bòfom of the Juft,

Each Virtue, lifted, forms her manly Guard;
For what are Virtues? (Formidable Name !}
What, but the Fountain, or Defence, of Joy?
Why, then, commanded? Need Mankind Commands,
At once to merit, and to make, their Blifs?
Great Legiflator! Scarce fo Great, as Kind!-
If Men are rational, and love Delight,
Thy gracious Law but flatters human Choice
In the Tranfgreffion lies the Penalty;
And they the most indulge, who most obey.
OF Pleasure, next, the final Cause explore
Its mighty Purpofe, its important End:
Not to turn Human brutal, but to build
Divine on Human, Pleasure came from Heav'n:
In Aid to Reason was the Goddess fent ;
To call up all its Strength by fuch a Charm;
Pleafure, firft, fuccours Virtue; in Return,
Virtue gives Pleasure an eternal Reign:

What, but the Pleasure of Food, Friendship, Faith,
Supports Life Natural, Civil, and Divine ?
"Tis from the Pleasure of Repaft, we live;
"Tis from the Pleasure of Applause, we please ;
"Tis from the Pleasure of Belief, we pray;
(All Pray'r would cease, if unbeliev'd the Prize ;)