Come then, my friend, my genius! come along; O master of the poet, and the song! And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, To Man's low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various Nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 380 Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please. Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my 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? 390 That, urged 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. * * * * * VARIATIONS. VER. 1, in the MS. thus-- O Happiness! to which we all aspire, Wing'd with strong hope, and borne by full desire; That ease, for which in want, in wealth we sigh; That ease, for which we labour and we die After VER. 52, in the MS.-- Say not, 'Heaven's here profuse, there poorly saves, And for one monarch makes a thousand slaves,' You'll find, when causes and their ends are known, 'Twas for the thousand Heaven has made that one. After VER. 66. in the MS.-- 'Tis peace of mind alone is at a stay; The rest mad Fortune gives or takes away. All other bliss by accident's debarr'd; But virtue's in the instant a reward: In hardest trials operates the best, And more is relish'd as the more distress'd. After VER. 92, in the MS.-- Let sober moralists correct their speech, No bad man's happy: he is great or rich. After VER. 116, in the MS.-- Of every evil, since the world began, The real source is not in God, but man. After VER. 142, in some editions-- Give each a system, all must be at strife; What different systems for a man and wife? After VER. 172, in the MS.-- Say, what rewards this idle world imparts, Or fit for searching heads or honest hearts. VER. 207, in the MS. thus-- The richest blood, right-honourably old, Down from Lucretia to Lucretia roll'd, May swell thy heart, and gallop in thy breast, Without one dash of usher or of priest: Thy pride as much despise all other pride As Christ-church once all colleges beside. After VER. 316, in the MS.-- Even while it seems unequal to dispose, And chequers all the good man's joys with woes, 'Tis but to teach him to support each state, With patience this, with moderation that; And raise his base on that one solid joy, Which conscience gives, and nothing can destroy.