FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45  
46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   >>   >|  
ap: 'Tis but to say, that what we daily meet, And by a fond mistake Perhaps imagine to be wondrous wit, And think, alas! to be by mortals writ, Is but a crowd of atoms justling in a heap: Which, from eternal seeds begun, Justling some thousand years, till ripen'd by the sun: They're now, just now, as naturally born, As from the womb of earth a field of corn. VI But as for poor contented me, Who must my weakness and my ignorance confess, That I believe in much I ne'er can hope to see; Methinks I'm satisfied to guess, That this new, noble, and delightful scene, Is wonderfully moved by some exalted men, Who have well studied in the world's disease, (That epidemic error and depravity, Or in our judgment or our eye,) That what surprises us can only please. We often search contentedly the whole world round, To make some great discovery, And scorn it when 'tis found. Just so the mighty Nile has suffer'd in its fame, Because 'tis said (and perhaps only said) We've found a little inconsiderable head, That feeds the huge unequal stream. Consider human folly, and you'll quickly own, That all the praises it can give, By which some fondly boast they shall for ever live, Won't pay th'impertinence of being known: Else why should the famed Lydian king,[4] (Whom all the charms of an usurped wife and state, With all that power unfelt, courts mankind to be great, Did with new unexperienced glories wait,) Still wear, still dote on his invisible ring? VII Were I to form a regular thought of Fame, Which is, perhaps, as hard t'imagine right, As to paint Echo to the sight, I would not draw the idea from an empty name; Because, alas! when we all die, Careless and ignorant posterity, Although they praise the learning and the wit, And though the title seems to show The name and man by whom the book was writ, Yet how shall they be brought to know, Whether that very name was he, or you, or I? Less should I daub it o'er with transitory praise, And water-colours of these days: These days! where e'en th'extravagance of poetry Is at a loss for figures to express Men's folly, whimseys, and inconstancy, And by a faint description makes them less. Then tell us what is Fame, where shall we search for it? Look where exalted Virtue and Religion sit, Enthroned with heavenly Wit! Look where you see The greatest scorn of lear
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   21   22   23   24   25   26   27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45  
46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69   70   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
Because
 

exalted

 

praise

 

search

 
imagine
 
regular
 

thought

 
Lydian
 

unfelt

 

courts


charms

 

usurped

 
mankind
 

invisible

 
unexperienced
 
glories
 

figures

 

express

 
inconstancy
 

whimseys


poetry

 

colours

 

extravagance

 
description
 

Enthroned

 
heavenly
 

greatest

 

Religion

 

Virtue

 

transitory


posterity

 

ignorant

 
Although
 

learning

 

Careless

 

Whether

 
brought
 
contented
 

naturally

 

weakness


ignorance

 

satisfied

 

delightful

 

Methinks

 
confess
 

wondrous

 
Perhaps
 

mortals

 
mistake
 

justling