No More Learning

Learning and Rome alike in empire grew;
And Arts still follow'd where her Eagles flew;
From the same foes, at last, both felt their doom, 685
And the same age saw Learning fall, and Rome.
With Tyranny, then Superstition join'd,
As that the body, this enslav'd the mind;
Much was believ'd, but little understood,
And to be dull was constru'd to be good; 690
A second deluge Learning thus o'er-run,
And the Monks finish'd what the Goths begun.

At length Erasmus, that great injur'd name,
(The glory of the Priesthood, and the shame! )
Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age, 695
And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.

But see! each Muse, in LEO'S golden days,
Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays,
Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread,
Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. 700
Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive;
Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live;
With sweeter notes each rising Temple rung;
A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung.
Immortal Vida: on whose honour'd brow 705
The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow:
Cremona now shal ever boast thy name,
As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!

But soon by impious arms from Latium chas'd,
Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd; 710
Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance,
But Critic-learning flourish'd most in France:
The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys;
And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.
But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despis'd, 715
And kept unconquer'd, and unciviliz'd;
Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,
We still defy'd the Romans, as of old.
Yet some there were, among the sounder few
Of those who less presum'd, and better knew, 720
Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,
And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws.
Such was the Muse, whose rules and practice tell,
"Nature's chief Master-piece is writing well. "

Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good, 725
With manners gen'rous as his noble blood;
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
And ev'ry author's merit, but his own.
Such late was Walsh--the Muse's judge and friend,
Who justly knew to blame or to commend; 730
To failings mild, but zealous for desert;
The clearest head, and the sincerest heart.
This humble praise, lamented shade!
receive,
This praise at least a grateful Muse may give:
The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing, 735
Prescrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing,
(Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise,
But in low numbers short excursions tries:
Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view,
The learn'd reflect on what before they knew: 740
Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame,
Averse alike to flatter, or offend;
Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.





* * * * *





AN ESSAY ON MAN



TO H. ST. JOHN LORD BOLINGBROKE



THE DESIGN


Having proposed to write some pieces on Human Life and Manners, such as
(to use my Lord Bacon's expression) _come home to Men's Business and
Bosoms_, I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering _Man_
in the abstract, his _Nature_ and his _State_; since, to prove any moral
duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or
imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know
what _condition_ and _relation_ it is placed in, and what is the proper
end and purpose of its _being_.

The science of Human Nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a
_few clear points_: There are not _many certain truths_ in this world.
It is therefore in the Anatomy of the mind as in that of the Body; more
good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and
perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and
vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our
observation. The _disputes_ are all upon these last, and, I will venture
to say, they have less sharpened the _wits_ than the _hearts_ of men
against each other, and have diminished the practice, more than advanced
the theory of Morality. If I could flatter myself that this Essay has
any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly
opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a
_temperate_ yet not _inconsistent_, and a _short_ yet not _imperfect_
system of Ethics.

This I might have done in prose, but I chose verse, and even rhyme, for
two reasons. The one will appear obvious; that principles, maxims, or
precepts so written, both strike the reader more strongly at first, and
are more easily retained by him afterwards: The other may seem odd, but
is true, I found I could express them more _shortly_ this way than in
prose itself; and nothing is more certain, than that much of the _force_
as well as _grace_ of arguments or instructions, depends on their
_conciseness_. I was unable to treat this part of my subject more in
_detail_, without becoming dry and tedious; or more _poetically_,
without sacrificing perspicuity to ornament, without wandring from the
precision, or breaking the chain of reasoning: If any man can unite all
these without diminution of any of them, I freely confess he will
compass a thing above my capacity.

What is now published, is only to be considered as a _general Map_ of
MAN, marking out no more than the _greater parts_, their _extent_, their
_limits_, and their _connection_, and leaving the particular to be more
fully delineated in the charts which are to follow. Consequently, these
Epistles in their progress (if I have health and leisure to make any
progress) will be less dry, and more susceptible of poetical ornament. I
am here only opening the _fountains_, and clearing the passage. To
deduce the _rivers_, to follow them in their course, and to observe
their effects, may be a task more agreeable.

P.