Or tread the mazy round his followers trod,
And quitting sense call imitating God;
As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the sun.
Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule-
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!

Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal man unfold all Nature's law,
Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And show'd a Newton as we show an ape.1

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4 [An unhappy illustration. The writer of a "Letter to Mr. Pope," &c., 1735, observes-"I think the sentiment here is not just, for how are we to take it? Are you mocking those same superior beings for regarding Newton in no better light than we do a baboon? Or are you satirizing the philo. sophers for presuming to pry into them? 'Tis plain that an ape is ugly and ridiculous (a manteger more so) because she is like a man both in shape and manners. Simia, in Tully, turpissima bestia, quam similis nobis! So that if the gods show Newton as we show an ape, they must think him the most absurd, ridiculous, ugly thing that ever came amongst them; and as they made monkeys here below for us to laugh at, they must be glad they have got Newton in heaven above to laugh at themselves." Warburton argues that it is the admiration of the celestial spirits that is spoken of by Pope. "And it was for no slight cause they admired: it was to see a mortal man unfold the whole law of Nature. By which we see it was not Mr. Pope's intention to bring any of the ape's qualities, but its sagacity, into the comparison. But why the ape's it may be said, rather than the sagacity of some more decent animal, particularly the half-reasoning elephant, as the poet calls it, which, as well on account of this its excellence, as for its having no ridiculous side, like the ape, on which it could be viewed, seems better to have deserved this honour? I reply, because as a shape resembling human (which only the ape has) must be joined with great sagacity, to raise a suspicion that the animal thus endowed is related to man; so the spirituality which Newton had in common with angels, joined to a penetration superior to man, made those beings suspect he might be one of their order." The argument is ingenious, but certainly not convincing, for Pope avowedly makes the angels ridicule the folly and pride of the greatest of men. If the simile is not ludicrous and satirical, it has no point. Warton has shown that it is taken from one of the modern poets of Italy, who wrote in Latin, from the Zodiac of Palingenius.

"Simia Coelicolum risusq; jocusq; Deorum est
Tunc Homo, cum temerè ingenio confidit et audet
Abdita naturæ scrutari, arcanaq; Divum."]

Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,5
Describe or fix one movement of his mind?
Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?
Alas what wonder! Man's superior part
Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to art;
But when his own great work is but begun,
What reason weaves, by passion is undone.

Trace Science then, with modesty thy guide;
First strip off all her equipage of pride;
Deduct but what is vanity or dress,

Or learning's luxury, or idleness;

Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain,
Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain;

Expunge the whole, or lop the excrescent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;

Then see how little the remaining sum,

Which served the past, and must the times to come!
II. Two principles in human nature reign;
Self-love, to urge, and Reason, to restrain;
Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call,
Each works its end, to move or govern all :
And to their proper operation still,
Ascribe all good; to their improper, ill.

Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul;
Reason's comparing balance rules the whole.
Man, but for that, no action could attend,
And, but for this, were active to no end:

Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot:

Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void,

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Destroying others, by himself destroy'd.
Most strength the moving principle requires;
Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires.
Sedate and quiet the comparing lies,
Form'd but to check, deliberate, and advise.

In first edit.

"Could he, who taught each planet where to roll,
Describe or fix one movement of the soul?
Who mark'd their points to rise or to descend,
Explain his own beginning, or his end?"

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Self-love, still stronger, as its objects nigh;
Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie:
That sees immediate good by present sense;
Reason, the future and the consequence.
Thicker than arguments, temptations throng,

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At best more watchful this, but that more strong.

The action of the stronger to suspend

Reason still use, to reason still attend.

Attention, habit, and experience gains;

Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains.

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Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight,

More studious to divide than to unite;

And grace and virtue, sense and reason split,
With all the rash dexterity of wit.

Wits, just like fools, at war about a name,
Have full as oft no meaning, or the same.6
Self-love and reason to one end aspire,
Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire;
But greedy that, its object would devour,
This taste the honey, and not wound the flower:
Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood,

Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.

III. Modes of self-love the passions we may call:

'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all:
But since not every good we can divide,
And reason bids us for our own provide;
Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair,
List under reason, and deserve her care:
Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim,
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name.
In lazy apathy let stoics boast

Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost;
Contracted all, retiring to the breast;
But strength of mind is exercise, not rest:
The rising tempest puts in act the soul,
Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole.

In the MS.

"Of good and evil Gods what frighted fools,
Of good and evil reason puzzled schools,
Deceived, deceiving, taught "-

On life's vast ocean diversely we sail,
Reason the card, but passion is the gale;7
Nor God alone in the still calm we find,

He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.

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"LOVE, HOPE, AND JOY, FAIR PLEASURE'S SMILING TRAIN;
HATE, FEAR, AND GRIEF, THE FAMILY OF PAIN."

Passions, like elements, though born to fight, Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: 8

7 In the MS.

"A tedious voyage! where how useless lies
The compass, if no powerful gusts arise!"

[The idea is in Bacon.-" The mind would be temperate and stayed, if the affections, as winds, did not put it into tumult."-Bowles.]

8 In the MS.

The fierce, the vicious punish or affright."

These 'tis enough to temper and employ;
But what composes man, can man destroy?
Suffice that reason keep to Nature's road,
Subject, compound them, follow her and God.
Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train,
Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain,

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These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confined,
Make and maintain the balance of the mind:
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife
Give all the strength and colour of our life.

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Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes;
And when in act, they cease, in prospect, rise:
Present to grasp, and future still to find,
The whole employ of body and of mind.

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All spread their charms, but charm not all alike;
On different senses, different objects strike;
Hence different passions more or less inflame,
As strong or weak, the organs of the frame;
And hence one master passion in the breast,
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.

As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death;

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The young disease, that must subdue at length,

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Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength;

So, cast and mingled with his very frame,

The mind's disease, its ruling passion came;

Each vital humour which should feed the whole,

Soon flows to this, in body and in soul:

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Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,

As the mind opens, and its functions spread,

Imagination plies her dangerous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.
Nature its mother, habit is its nurse;
Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse;
Reason itself but gives it edge and power;
As Heaven's blest beam turns vinegar more sour.
We, wretched subjects though to lawful sway,
In this weak queen, some favourite still obey:
Ah! if she lend not arms, as well as rules,
What can she more than tell us we are fools?
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend,
A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend!

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