« AnteriorContinuar »
Vol. II. facing p.109 N. Blakey in.&del.
G.Scotin Sculp. Boastfull 6S rough your first don is a Squire; Tom Struts a Soldier
, open, bold and Bravel; Will oneaks a Soriverier, an
. Char: of Men
ES, you despise the man to Books confin'd,
Who from his study rails at human kind;
the fate of all extremes is such,
Ver. 10. And yet - Men of human nature will ex. may be read, as well as I plain,
To written Wisdom, as another's less :
That each from other differs, first confess;
Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows finds, Quick whirls, and shifting eddies, of our minds ? On human actions reason tho' you can,
25 It may be Reason, but it is not Man:
NOTES. Ver. 22. And all Opi- on Man he gives both the nion's colours cast on life.] efficient and the final cause : The poet refers here only The First in the third Ep. to the effects : In the Elay | ¥ 231.
E'er Wit oblique bad broke that steddy light. For oblique Wit is Opinion. The other, in the second Ep. 283.
Mean-while Opinion gilds with varying rays
These painted clouds that beautify our days, &c. Ver. 26. It may be Rea- appearances he would in. fon, but it is not Man:}i.e. vestigate ; and yet that hy. The Philosopher may in- pothesis be all the while very vent a rational hypothesis wide of truth and the na, that shall account for the ture of things.
His Principle of action once explore,
35 Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes.
Nor will Life's stream for Observation stay, It hurries all too fast to mark their way : In vain sedate reflections we wou'd make, When half our knowledge we must snatch, not take. Oft, in the Passions' wild rotation toft, Our spring of action to ourselves is loft : Tird, not determin’d, to the last we yield, And what comes then is master of the field. As the last image of that troubled heap, 45 When Sense subsides, and Fancy sports in sleep, (Tho' past the recollection of the thought) Becomes the stuff of which our dream is wrought: Something as dim to our internal view, Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do.
50 True, some are open, and to all men known; Others so very close, they're hid from none;
(So Darkness strikes the sense no less than Light)
60 When Flatt’ry glares, all hate it in a Queen, While one there is who charms us with his Spleen.
But these plain Characters we rarely find ;
75 Friendly at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall.
Catius is ever moral, ever grave,