# Poems upon Several Occasions/45

Occasion'd by the foregoing.
WHoe'er thou art, who tempt'st in such a Strain, Sweet is thy Syren Song, but sung in vain: When the Winds rage, and loud the Billows roar, What Fool will trust the Sea, and quit the Shoar? Early and Vain into the World I came, Big with false Hopes, and eager after Fame, Till looking round me ere the Race began, Madmen, and giddy Fools, were all that ran: Reclaim'd betimes, I from the List retire, And thank the Gods who my Retreat inspire. Survey the World, and with impartial Eyes Consider, and examine, all who rise, Weigh well their Actions, and their treacherous Ends, How Greatness grows, and by what Steps ascends, What Murders, Treasons, Perjuries, Deceit, How many fall, to make one Monster great. Wou'd you command? Have Fortune in you'r Pow'r? Hug whom you stab, and smile when you devour:
Be bloody, false, flatter, forswear, and lie, Turn Pander, Pathick, Parasite, or Spy; Such thriving Arts may your wish’d Purpose bring, At least a General be, perhaps a King. Fortune we most unjustly partial call, A Mistress free, who bids alike to all, But on such Terms as only suit the Base, Honour denies, and shuns the foul Embrace; The honest Man, who starves and is undone, Not Fortune, but his Virtue, keeps him down. Had Cato bent beneath the conquering Cause, He might have liv’d to give new Senates Laws: But on vile Terms disdaining to be great, He perish’d by his Choice, and not his Fate: Honours and Life th’ Usurper bids, and all That vain mistaken Men good Fortune call, Virtue forbids, and sets before his Eyes An honest Death, which he accepts, and dies, O glorious Resolution! Noble Pride! More honour’d than the Tyrant liv’d, he dy’d, More prais’d, more lov’d, more envy’d in his Doom, Than Cæsar trampling on the Rights of Rome. The Virtuous nothing fear, but Life with Shame, And Death’s a pleasant Road, that leads to Fame. On Bones and Scraps of Dogs let me be fed,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ My Limbs uncover’d, and expos’d my Head To bleakest Colds, a Kennel be my Bed,
This, and all other Martyrdom, for thee Seems glorious all, thrice-beauteous Honesty! Fortune and Life depend on Fate alone, My Honour and my Conscience are my own. Ye great Disturbers, who in endless Noise, In Blood and Horror, seek unnatural Joys, For what is all this Bustle, but to shun Those Thoughts, with which you dare not be alone? As Men in Misery, opprest with Care, Seek in the Rage of Wine to drown Despair. Let others fight, and eat their Bread in Blood, Regardless if the Cause be bad or good, Or cringe in Courts, depending on the Nods Of strutting Pygmies, who wou’d pass for Gods; For me, unpractis’d in the Courtiers School, Who loath a Knave, and tremble at a Fool, Who honour generous Wycherly opprest, Possest of little, worthy of the best, Rich in himself, in Virtue, that outshines All but the Fame of his immortal Lines, More than the wealthiest Lord, who helps to drain The famish’d Land, and rowls in impious Gain, What can I hope in Courts? or how succeed?$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ Tygers and Wolves shall in the Ocean breed, The Whale and Dolphin fatten on the Mead, And every Element exchange its kind, When thriving Honesty in Courts we find.
Happy the Man, of Mortals happiest he, Whose quiet Mind from vain Desires is free, Whom neither Hopes deceive, nor Fears torment, But lives at Peace within himself, content, In Thought, or Act, accountable to none But to himself, and to the Gods alone. O Sweetness of Content! Seraphick Joy, That nothing wanting, nothing can destroy! Where dwells this Peace, this Freedom of the Mind? Where, but in Shades, remote from Humankind, In flow'ry Vales, where Nymphs and Shepherds meet, But never comes within the Palace-Gate. Farewel then Cities, Courts and Camps farewel, Welcome ye Groves, here let me ever dwell, From Care, from Business, and Mankind remove, All but the Muses, and inspiring Love. How sweet the Morn! How gentle is the Night! How calm the Evening! And the Noon how bright! From hence, as from a Hill, I view below The crowded World, that like some Wood does show, Where sev'ral Wand'rers travel Day and Night. Thro' sev'ral Paths, and none are in the right.