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Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind
Come then, my friend! my genius! come along,
little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale ? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend? That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart; For wit's false mirror held up nature's light, Show'd erring pride-whatever is is right; That reason, passion, answer one great aim ; That true self-love and social are the same; That virtue only makes our bliss below, And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.
DEO OPT. MAX.
FATHER of all! in every age,
In every clime ador’d,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord !
Thou Great First Cause, least understood,
Who all my sense confin'd
And that myself am blind :
To see the good from ill : And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do;
That more than heaven pursue.
Let me not cast away;
T' enjoy is to obey.
Thy goodness let me bound,
man, When thousand worlds are round.
THE POEMS OF POPE.
Let not this weak unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,
On each I judge thy foe.
Still in the right to stay ;
To find that better way.
Or impious discontent,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
To hide the fault I see: That mercy I to others show, That mercy
show to me. Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken’d by thy breath ; O lead me, whereso'er I go,
Through this day's life or death! This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,
And let thy will be done. To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies, One chorus let all Being raise,
All nature's incense rise !
IN FOUR EPISTLES.
Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, rieu se