Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, 390
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
Alexander Pope
A knave's a knave, to me, in ev'ry state:
Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, 360
_Sporus_ at court, or _Japhet_ in a jail
A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer,
Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire;
If on a Pillory, or near a Throne,
He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own. 365
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit,
_Sappho_ can tell you how this man was bit;
This dreaded Sat'rist _Dennis_ will confess
Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress:
So humble, he has knock'd at _Tibbald's_ door, 370
Has drunk with _Cibber_, nay has rhym'd for _Moore_.
Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply?
Three thousand suns went down on _Welsted's_ lie.
To please a Mistress one aspers'd his life;
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife. 375
Let _Budgel_ charge low _Grubstreet_ on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will;
Let the two _Curlls_ of Town and Court, abuse
His father, mother, body, soul, and muse.
Yet why? that Father held it for a rule, 380
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool:
That harmless Mother thought no wife a whore:
Hear this, and spare his family, _James Moore! _
Unspotted names, and memorable long!
If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. 385
Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause.
While yet in _Britain_ Honour had applause)
Each parent sprung--A. What fortune, pray? --P. Their own,
And better got, than _Bestia's_ from the throne.
Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, 390
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
Nor Courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a Lie. 395
Un-learn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,
No language, but the language of the heart.
By Nature honest, by Experience wise,
Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise;
His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown, 400
His death was instant, and without a groan.
O grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from Kings shall know less joy than I.
O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
Be no unpleasing Melancholy mine: 405
Me, let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of reposing Age,
With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath,
Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed of Death,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, 410
And keep a while one parent from the sky!
On cares like these if length of days attend,
May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,
And just as rich as when he serv'd a QUEEN. 415
A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n,
Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.
* * * * *
ODE ON SOLITUDE
Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 5
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 10
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And Innocence, which most does please 15
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, 360
_Sporus_ at court, or _Japhet_ in a jail
A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer,
Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire;
If on a Pillory, or near a Throne,
He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own. 365
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit,
_Sappho_ can tell you how this man was bit;
This dreaded Sat'rist _Dennis_ will confess
Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress:
So humble, he has knock'd at _Tibbald's_ door, 370
Has drunk with _Cibber_, nay has rhym'd for _Moore_.
Full ten years slander'd, did he once reply?
Three thousand suns went down on _Welsted's_ lie.
To please a Mistress one aspers'd his life;
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife. 375
Let _Budgel_ charge low _Grubstreet_ on his quill,
And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his Will;
Let the two _Curlls_ of Town and Court, abuse
His father, mother, body, soul, and muse.
Yet why? that Father held it for a rule, 380
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool:
That harmless Mother thought no wife a whore:
Hear this, and spare his family, _James Moore! _
Unspotted names, and memorable long!
If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. 385
Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause.
While yet in _Britain_ Honour had applause)
Each parent sprung--A. What fortune, pray? --P. Their own,
And better got, than _Bestia's_ from the throne.
Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, 390
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
Nor Courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a Lie. 395
Un-learn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,
No language, but the language of the heart.
By Nature honest, by Experience wise,
Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise;
His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown, 400
His death was instant, and without a groan.
O grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from Kings shall know less joy than I.
O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
Be no unpleasing Melancholy mine: 405
Me, let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of reposing Age,
With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath,
Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed of Death,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, 410
And keep a while one parent from the sky!
On cares like these if length of days attend,
May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,
And just as rich as when he serv'd a QUEEN. 415
A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n,
Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.
* * * * *
ODE ON SOLITUDE
Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 5
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 10
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And Innocence, which most does please 15
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
