TRUTH. Pensantur trutiná. -HOR. Lib. II, Epist. 1. MAN, on the dubious waves of errour toss'd, Of virtue, and yet lose it! Wherefore hard? 10 He that would win the race must guide his horse Obedient to the customs of the course; Else, though unequall'd to the goal he flies, O how unlike the complex works of man, Legible only by the light they give, 20. 30 Stand the soul-quick'ning words—BELIEVE AND LIVE. Too many, shock'd at what should charm them most, Despise the plain direction, and are lost. Heav'n on such terms! (they cry with proud disdain) Incredible, impossible, and vain!- Rebel, because 'tis easy to obey; And scorn, for it's own sake, the gracious way. Some thought of immortality remains; The rest too busy or too gay to wait On the sad theme, their everlasting state, Sport for a day, and perish in a night, Who judg'd the pharisee? What odious cause Or stabb'd a man to serve some private end? 40 Sit long and late at the carousing board? 50 (Such were the sins with which he charg❜d his Lord) No-the man's morals were exact, what then? "Twas his ambition to be seen of men; His virtues were his pride; and that one vice 60 The self-applauding bird, the peacock seeMark what a sumptuous pharisee is he! Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold: He treads as if, some solemn music near, His measur'd step were govern'd by his ear; And seems to say-Ye meaner fowl, give place, I am all splendour, dignity, and grace! Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes, Though he too has a glory in his plumes. He, christian like, retreats with modest mien To the close copse, or far sequester'd green, And shines without desiring to be seen. The plea of works, as arrogant and vain, 70 Heav'n turns from with abhorrence and dis dain; Not more affronted by avow'd neglect, But Christ as soon would abdicate his own, As stoop from Heav'n to sell the proud a throne. His dwelling a recess in some rude rock, Book, beads, and maple-dish, his meagre stock; In shirt of hair, and weeds of canvass, dress'd, Girt with a bell-rope, that the pope has bless'd; Adust with stripes told out for ev'ry crime, And sore tormented long before his time; His pray'r preferr'd to saints, that cannot aid; His praise postpon'd, and never to be paid; See the sage hermit, by mankind admir'd, With all that bigotry adopts inspir'd, Wearing out life in his religious whim, 79 Till his religious whimsy wears out him. His works, his abstinence, his zeal allow'd, 90 You think him humble-God accounts him proud; |