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THE subject propos'd; verse 1, to 30. Difficulty of treating it poetically; v. 45. The ideas of the divine mind, the origin of every quality pleasing to the imagination; v. 56, to 78. The natural variety of constitution in the minds of men, with its final cause; to v. 96. The ideas of a fine imagination, and the state of the mind in the enjoyment of those pleasures which it affords; v. 100, to 132. All the primary pleasures of imagination result from the perception of greatness, or wonderfulness, or beauty in objects; v. 145. The pleasure from greatness, with its final cause; v. 151, to 221. Pleasures from novelty or wonderfulness, with its final cause; v. 222. to 270. Pleasure from beauty, with its final cavse; v. 275, to 372. The connection of beauty with truth and good, applied to the conduct of life; v. 384. Invitation to the study of moral philosophy; to v. 428. The different degrees of beauty in different species of objects; v. 448. Colour; shape; natural concretes; vegetables; animals; the mind; v. 445, to 475. The sublime, the fair, the wonderful of the mind; v. 497, to 526. The connection of the imagination and the moral faculty; 557. Conclusion.
The word MUSICAL is here taken in its original and most extensive import; comprehending as well the pleasures we receive from the beauty or magnificence of natural objects, as those which arise from poetry, painting, music, or any other of the elegant and imaginative arts. In which sense it has been already used in our language by writers of unquestionable authority.
8 Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain.
24 Her sister LIBERTY will not be far.
30 The gayest, happiest attitudes of things.
Lucret. l. 2. v. 921.
Unde prius nulli velarint tempora Musae.
55 Where never poet gain'd a wreath before.
78 And all the fair variety of things.
85 Decrees its province in the common toil.
98 She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame.
108 Enamour'd; they partake th' eternal joy.
The statue of Memnon, so famous in antiquity, stood in the temple of Serapis at Thebes, one of the great cities of old Egypt. It was of a very hard, iron-like stone, and, according to Juvenal, held in its hand a lyre, which being touch'd by the sun-beams, emitted a distinct and agreeable sound. Tacitus mentions it as one of the principal curiosities which Germanicus took notice of in his journey through Egypt,; and Strabo affirms that he, with many others, heard it.
138 And point her loveliest features to thy view.
146 The wonderful, the fair. I see them dawn!
150 To lead the train of Phoebus and the spring.
In apologizing for the frequent negligence of the sublimest authors of Greece,Those god-like geniuses, says Longinus, were wellassured that nature had not intended man for a low-spirited or ignoble being: but bringing us into life and the midst of this wide universe, as before a multitude assembled at some heroic solemnity that we might be spectators of all her magnificence, and candidates high in emulation for the prize of glory; she has therefore implanted in our souls an inextinguishable love of every thing great and exalted, of every thing which appears divine beyond our comprehension. Whence it comes to pass, that even the whole world is not an object sufficient for the depth and rapidity of human imagination, which often sallies forth beyond the limits of all that surrounds us. Let any man cast his eye through the whole circle of our existence, and consider how especially it abounds in excellent and grand objects, he will soon acknowledge for what injoyments and pursuits we were destined. Thus by the very propensity of nature we are led to admire, not little springs or shallow rivulets, however clear and delicious, but the Nile, the Rhine, the Danube, and much more than all, the ocean, &c. Dionys. Longin. de Sublim. §. xxxiv.
176 Than to the glimm'ring of a waxen flame?
Ne se peut-il point qu'il y a un grand espace audelà de la region des etoiles? Que ce soit le ciel empyreé, ou non, toûjours cet espace immense qui environne toute cette region, pourra être rempli de bonheur & de gloire. Il pourre être conçu comme l'ocean, où se rendent les fleuves de toutes les creatures bienheureuses, quand elles seront venues à leur perfection dans le systême des etoiles. Leibnitz dans la Theodicee, part. i. §. 19.
It was a notion of the great M. Huygens, that there may be fix'd stars at such a distance from our solar system, as that their light shall not have had time to reach us, even from the creation of the world to this day.
206 Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.
221 And infinite perfection close the scene.
231 Th'obedient heart far otherwise incline.
It is here said, that in consequence of the love of novelty, objects which at first were highly delightful to the mind, lose that effect by repeated attention to them. But the instance of habit is oppos'd to this observation; for there, objects at first distasteful are in time render'd intirely agreeable by repeated attention.
The difficulty in this case will be remov'd, if we consider, that when objects at first agreeable, lose that influence by frequently recurring, the mind is wholly passive and the perception involuntary; but habit, on the other hand. generally supposes choice and activity accompanying it: so that the pleasure arises here not from the object, but from the mind's conscious determination of its own activity; and consequently increases in proportion to the frequency of that determination.
It will still be urged perhaps, that a familiarity with disagreeable objects renders them at length acceptable, even when there is no room for the mind to resolve or act at all. In this case, the appearance must be accounted for, one of these ways.
The pleasure from habit may be meerly negative. The object at first gave uneasiness: this uneasinest gradually wears off as the object grows familiar; and the mind finding it at last intirely removed, reckons its situation really pleasurable, compar'd with what it had experienced before.
The dislike conceiv'd of the object at first, might be owing to prejudice or want of attention. Consequently the mind being necessitated to review it often, may at length perceive its own mistake, and be reconcil'd to what it had look'd on with aversion. In which case, a sort of instinctive justice naturally leads it to make amends for the injury, by running toward th e other extreme of fondness and attachment.
Or lastly, tho' the object itself should always continue disagreeable, yet circumstances of pleasure or good fortune may occur along with it. Thus an association may arise in the mind, and the object never be remember'd without those pleasing circumstances attending it; by which means the disagreeable impression it at first occasion'd will in time be quite obliterated.
238 Of age, commenting on prodigious things.
These two ideas are oft confounded; tho' it is evident the meer novelty of an object makes it agreeable, even where the mind is not affected with the least degree of wonder: whereas wonder indeed always implies novelty, being never excited by common or well-known appearances. But the pleasure in both cases is explicable from the same final cause, the acquisition of knowledge and inlargement of our views of nature: and on this account it is natural to treat of them together.
265 The torch of hell around the murd'rer's bed.
270 Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd.
277 The mossy roofs adore: thou, better sun!
280 Poetic. Brightest progeny of heav'n!
282 The roseate hues to emulate thy bloom?
By these islands, which were also called the Fortunate, the ancients are now generally supposed to have meant the Canaries. They were celebrated by the poets for the mildness and fertility of the climate; for the gardens of the daughters of Hesperus, the brother of Atlas; and the dragon which constantly watched their golden fruit, till it was slain by the Tyrian Hercules.
294 As with the blushes of an evening sky?
Daphne, the daughter of Penéus, transformed into a laurel.
298 Reflects purpureal Tempe's pleasant scene?
340 Your favourable ear, and trust my words.
Do you imagine, says Socrates to his libertine disciple, that what is good is not also beautiful? Have you not observ'd that these appearances always co-incide? Virtue, for instance, in the same respect as to which we call it good, is ever acknowledg'd to be beautiful also. In the characters of men we always†† This the Athenians did in a peculiar manner by the words〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. join the two denominations together. The beauty of human bodies corresponds, in like manner, with that oeconomy of parts which constitutes them good; and in all the circumstances which occurr in life, the same object is constantly accounted both beautiful and good, inasmuch as it answers the purposes for which it was design'd. Xenophont. memorab. Socrat. 1. 3. c. 8.
This excellent observation has been illustrated and extended by the noble restorer of ancient philosophy; see the Characteristicks, vol. 2. p. 399. & 422. & vol. 3. p. 181. And his most ingenious disciple has particularly shewn, that it holds in the general laws of nature, in the works of art, and the conduct of the sciences. Inquiry into the original of our ideas of beauty and virtue; Treat. 1. §. 8. As to the connection between beauty and truth, there are two opinions concerning it. Some philosophers assert an independent and invariable law in nature, in consequence of which all rational beings must alike perceive beauty in some certain proportions, and deformity in the contrary. And this necessity being supposed the same with that which commands the assent or dissent of the understanding, it follows of course that beauty is founded on the universal and unchangeable law of truth.
But others there are who believe beauty to be meerly a relative and arbitrary thing; that indeed it was a benevolent design in nature to annex so delightful a sensation to those objects which are best and most perfect in themselves, that so we might be ingaged to the choice of them at once and without staying to infer their usefulness from their structure and effects; but that it is not impossible, in a physical sense, that two beings, of equal capacities for truth, should perceive, one of them beauty, and the other deformity, in the same relations. And upon this supposition, by that truth which is always connected with beauty, nothing more can be meant than the conformity of any object to those proportions upon which, after careful examination, the beauty of that species is found to depend. Polycletus for instance, the famous sculptor of Sicyon, from an accurate mensuration of the several parts of the most perfect human bodies, deduced a canon or system of proportions, which was the rule of all succeeding artists. Suppose a statue modell'd according to this canon. A man of meer natural taste, upon looking at it, without entering into its proportions, confesses and admires its beauty; whereas a professor of the art applies his measures to the head, the neck, or the hand, and, without attending to its beauty, pronounces the workmanship to be just and true.
377 O sons of earth! would you dissolve the tye?
437 And bless heav'n's image in the heart of man.
456 And painted shells indent their speckled wreathe.
480 This endless mixture of her charms diffus'd.
481 MIND, MIND alone, bear witness, earth and heav'n!
486 Invites the soul to never-fading joy.
Cicero himself describes this fact —Caesare interfecto — statim cruentum altè extollens M. Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nominatim exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus. Cic. Philipp. 2. 12.
498 And bade the father of his country, hail!
505 Of him who strives with fortune to be just?
506 The graceful tear that streams for other's woes?
511 Of innocence and love protect the scene?
522 Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go!
528 Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts?
531 And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye.
Where virtue rising from the awful depth.
According to the opinion of those who assert moral obligation to be founded on an immutable and universal law, and that pathetic feeling which is usually call'd the moral sense, to be determin'd by the peculiar temper of the imagination and the earliest associations of ideas.
566 To guard the sacred volume of the laws.
570 Of all heroic deeds and fair desires!
579 By their malignant footsteps ne'er profan'd.
One of the rivers on which Athens was situated. Plato, in some of his finest dialogues, lays the scene of the conversation with Socrates on its banks.
604 And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.
THE separation of the works of imagination from philosophy, the cause of their abuse among the moderns; to verse 41. Prospect of their re-union under the influence of public liberty; to v. 61. Enumeration of accidental pleasures, which increase the effect of objects delightful to the imagination. The pleasures of sense; v. 73. Particular circumstances of the mind; v. 84. Discovery of truth; v. 97. Perception of contrivance and design; v. 121. Emotions of the passions; v. 136. All the natural passions partake of a pleasing sensation, with the final cause of this constitution illustrated by an allegorical vision, and exemplified in sorrow, pity, terror and indignation; from v. 155 to the end.
18 And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth.
About the age of Hugh Capet, the founder of the third race of French kings, the poets of Provence were in high reputation; a sort of stroling bards or rhapsodists, who went about the courts of princes and noblemen, entertaining them at festivals with music and poetry. They attempted both the epic ode and satire, and abounded in a wild and fantastic vein of fable, partly allegorical, and partly founded on traditionary legends of the Saracen wars. These were the rudiments of the Italian poetry. But their taste and composition must have been extremely barbarous, as we may judge by those who followed the turn of their fable in much politer times; such as Boiardo, Bernardo Tasso, Ariosto, &c.
The famous retreat of Francesco Petrarcha, the father of Italian poetry, and his mistress Laura, a lady of Avignon.
The river which runs by Florence, the birth-place of Dante and Boccacio.
Or Naples, the birth-place of Sannazaro. The great Torquato Tasso was born at Sorrento in the kingdom of Naples.
This relates to the cruel wars among the republics of Italy, and the abominable politics of its little princes, about the the fifteenth century. These at last, in conjunction with the papal power, intirely extinguished the spirit of liberty in that country, and establish'd that abuse of the fine arts which has since been propagated over all Europe.
29 In shadowy searches and unfruitful care.
Nor were they only losers by the separation. For philosophy itself, to use the words of a noble philosopher,being thus sever'd from the sprightly arts and sciences, must consequently grow dronish, insipid, pedantic, useless, and directly opposite to the real knowledge and practice of the world. Insomuch, thata gentleman, says another excellent writer, cannot easily bring himself to like so austere and ungainly a form: so greatly is it changed from what was once the delight of the finest gentlemen of antiquity, and their recreation after the hurry of public affairs! From this condition it cannot be recovered but by uniting it once more with the works of imagination; and we have had the pleasure of observing a very great progress made towards their union in England within these few years. It is hardly possible to conceive them at a greater distance from each other than at the revolution, when Locke stood at the head of one party, and Dryden of the other. But the general spirit of liberty, which has ever since been growing, naturally invited our men of wit and genius to improve that influence which the arts of persuasion give them with the people, by applying them to subjects of importance to society. Thus poetry and eloquence became considerable; and philosophy is now of course obliged to borrow of their imbellishments, in order even to gain audience with the public.
41 The sable tyrant plants his heel secure.
47 A common mansion, a parental roof.
61 And shed their flow'rs along the rugged way.
75 To raise harmonious fancy's native charm?
83 With sweeter music murmur as they flow?
96 Chasing oppressive damps and languid pain!
99 A more majestic pomp on beauty's frame?
120 To the pale violet's dejected hue.
125 By means proportion'd her benignant end?
135 You scan the counsels of their author's hand.
140 With fiercer colours and a night of shade?
154 The native weight and energy of things.
This very mysterious kind of pleasure which is often found in the exercise of passions generally counted painful, has been taken taken notice of by several authors. Lucretius resolves it into self-love,Suave mari magno, &c. lib. II. 1.As if a man was never pleas'd in being moved at the distress of a tragedy, without a cool reflection that tho' these fictitious personages were so unhappy, yet he himself was perfectly at ease and in safety. The ingenious and candid author of the reflexions critiques sur la poesie & sur la peinture, accounts for it by the general delight which the mind takes in its own activity, and the abhorrence it feels of an indolent and unattentive state: And this, join'd with the moral applause of its own temper, which attends these emotions when natural and just, is certainly the true foundation of the pleasure, which as it is the origin and basis of tragedy and epic, deserved a very particular consideration in this poem.
165 For ceaseless motion and a round of toil.
186 As thus the sage his awful tale began.
195 That hour, O long belov'd and long deplor'd!
212 And turn the sun to horror. Gracious heav'n!
214 Not these portents thy awful will suffice?
219 The wretched heir of evils not its own!
228 And instant thunder shook the conscious grove.
230 And all the shining vision stood reveal'd.
241 Like distant thunders broke the murm'ring air.
244 Capacious of this universal frame?
245 Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas!
260 The wretched heir of evils not its own?
261 O fair benevolence of gen'rous minds!
262 O man by nature form'd for all mankind!
270 And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.
276 With many a sable cliff and glitt'ring stream.
303 Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd.
The account of the oeconomy of providence here introduced, as the most proper to calm and satisfy the mind, when under the compunction of private evils, seems to have come originally from the Pythagorean school: but of all the ancient philosophers, Plato has most largely insisted upon it, has established it with all the strength of his capacious understanding, and ennobled it with all the magnificence of his divine imagination. He has one passage so full and clear on the head, that I am persuaded the reader will be pleased to see it here, tho' somewhat long. Addressing himself to such as are not satisfied concerning divine providence,The being who presides over the whole, says he, has dispos'd and complicated all things for the happiness and virtue of the whole, every part of which, according to the extent of its influence, does and suffers what is fit and proper. One of these parts is yours, O unhappy man! which tho' in itself most inconsiderable and minute, yet being connected with the universe, ever seeks to co-operate with that supreme order. You in the mean time are ignorant of the very end for which all particular natures are brought into existence, that the all-comprehending nature of the whole may be perfect and happy; existing, as it does, not for your sake, but the cause and reason of your existence, which, as in the symmetry of every artificial work, must of necessity concur with the general design of the artist, and be subservient to the whole of which it is a part. Your complaint therefore is ignorant and groundless; since according to the various energy of creation, and the common laws of nature, there is a constant provision of that which is best at the same time for you and for the whole. — For the governing intelligence clearly beholding all the actions of animated and selfmoving creatures, and that mixture of good and evil which diversifies them, considering first of all by what disposition of things, and what situation of each individual in the general system, vice might be depressed and subdued, and virtue made secure of victory and happiness with the greatest facility and in the highest degree possible. In this manner he order'd thro' the entire circle of being, the internal constitution of every mind, where should be its station in the universal fabric, and thro' what variety of circumstances it should proceed in the whole tenour of its existence. He goes on in his sublime manner to assert a future state of retribution, as well for those who, by the exercise of good dispositions being harmonized and assimilated to the divine virtue, are consequently removed to a place of unblemish'd sanctity and happiness; as of those who by the most flagitious arts have arisen from contemptible beginnings to the greatest affluence and power, and whom therefore you look upon as unanswerable instances of negligence in the Gods, because you are ignorant of the purposes to which they are subservient, and in what manner they contribute to that supreme intention of good to the whole. Plato de Leg. x. 16.
This theory has been deliver'd of late, especially abroad, in a manner which subverts the freedom of human actions; whereas Plato appears very careful to preserve it, and has been in that respect imitated by the best of his followers.
See the meditations of Antoninus, and the characteristics, passim.
This opinion is so old, that Timaeus Locrus calls the supreme being,〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, the artificer of that which is best; and represents him as resolving in the beginning to produce the most excellent work, and as copying the world most exactly from his own intelligible and essential idea;so that it yet remains, as it was at first, perfect in beauty, and will never stand in need of any correction or improvement. There is no room for a cauiton here, to understand these expressions not of any particular circumstances of human life separately consider'd, but of the sum or universal system of life and being. See also the vision at the end of the Theodicée of Leibnitz.
This opinion, tho' not held by Plato or any of the ancients, is yet a very natural consequence of his principles. But the disquisition is too complex and extensive to be enter'd upon here.
363 For ever nearer to the life divine.
373 Of consecrated heroes and of gods.
376 Coelestial footsteps from his green abode.
396 And pow'rs immortal. See the shining pair!
398 They quit their youthful charge and seek the skies.
407 With mild regret invoking her return.
413 Effusive trembling on the placid waves.
427 To filial rapture soften'd all the soul.
447 With sacred invocation thus began.
451 I seek to finish thy divine decree.
468 Still farther aided in the work divine.
469 She ceas'd; a voice more awful thus reply'd.
480 That pow'r in whom delighteth ne'er behold.
483 Partake thy footsteps. In her stead, behold!
486 Of sacred order's violated laws.
496 Thy genuine honours, O excelling fair!
502 And shining clearer in the horrid gloom.
523 The unsuspecting inmate of the shade.
531 The monster sprung remorseless on his prey.
544 Then grasps his hand, and chears him with her tongue.
562 The silken fetters of delicious ease?
568 To drink the soft effusion of her smiles?
576 From folly and despair. O yet belov'd!
581 Above the generous question of thy arm.
591 Rests on his own foundations. Blow, ye winds!
593 Shake, ye old pillars of the marble sky!
599 Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal.
607 And starting from his languor thus exclaim'd.
620 And guide by thy decrees my constant feet.
621 But say, for ever are my eyes bereft?
623 Appear again to charm me? Thou, in heav'n!
624 O thou eternal arbiter of things!
635 This lonely seat, and bless me with her smiles.
643 And to her wond'ring audience thus begun.
649 Repeats the accent; we shall part no more.
654 The high decree: that thou, coelestial maid!
659 Or leave thy lov'd Euphrosyné behind.
668 Preventing my inquiry, thus began.
687 To pay the mournful tribute of his tears?
708 To mutual terror and compassion's tears?
711 To this their proper action and their end?
The reader will here naturally recollect the fate of the sacred battalion of Thebes, which at the battle of Chaeronéa was utterly destroy'd, every man being found lying dead by his friend.
768 Blest be th' eternal ruler of the world!
771 Nor so effac'd the image of its sire.
ARGUMENT of the THIRD BOOK.
PLEASURE in observing the tempers and manners of men, even where vicious or absurd; v. 1. to 14. The origin of vice, from false representations of the fancy, producing false opinions concerning good and evil; v. 14. to 62. Inquiry into ridicule; v. 73. The general sources of ridicule in the minds and characters of men, enumerated; v. 14. to 240. Final cause of the sense of ridicule; v. 263. The resemblance of certain aspects of inanimate things to the sensations and properties of the mind; v. 282, to 311. The operations of the mind in the production of the works of imagination, described; v. 358, to 414. The secondary pleasure from imitation; to v. 436. The benevolent order of the world illustrated in the arbitrary connection of these pleasures with the objects which excite them; v. 458, to 514. The nature and conduct of taste; v. 515, to 567. Concluding with an account of the natural and moral advantages resulting from a sensible and well-form'd imagination.
The influence of the imagination on the conduct of life is one of the most important points in moral philosophy. It were easy by an induction of facts to prove that the imagination directs almost all the passions, and mixes with almost every circumstance of action or pleasure. Let any man, even of the coldest head and soberest industry, analyse the idea of what he calls his interest; he will find that it consists chiefly of certain images of decency, beauty and order, variously combined into one system, the idol which he seeks to injoy by labour, hazard, and self-denial. It is on this account of the last consequence to regulate these images by the standard of nature and the general good; otherwise the imagination, by heightening some objects beyond their real excellence and beauty, or by representing others in a more odious or terrible shape than they deserve, may of course engage us in pursuits utterly inconsistent with the laws of the moral order.
If it be objected, that this account of things supposes the passions to be merely accidental, whereas there appears in some a natural and hereditary disposition to certain passions prior to all circumstances of education or fortune; it may be answer'd, that tho' no man is born ambitious or a miser, yet he may inherit from his parents a peculiar temper or complexion of mind, which shall render his imagination more liable to be struck with some particular objects, consequently dispose him to form opinions of good and ill, and entertain passions of a particular turn. Some men, for instance, by the original frame of their minds, are more delighted with the vast and magnificent, others on the contrary with the elegant and gentle aspects of nature. And it is very remarkable, that the disposition of the moral powers is always similar to this of the imagination; that those who are most inclin'd to admire prodigious and sublime objects in the physical world, are also most inclin'd to applaud examples of fortitude and heroic virtue in the moral. While those who are charm'd rather with the delicacy and sweetness of colours, and forms, and sounds, never fail in like manner to yield the preference to the softer scenes of virtue and the sympathies of a domestic life. And this is sufficient to account for the objection.
Among the ancient philosophers, tho' we have several hints concerning this influence of the imagination upon morals among the remains of the Socratic school, yet the Stoics were the first who paid it a due attention. Zeno, their founder, thought it impossible to preserve any tolerable regularity in life, without frequently inspecting those pictures or appearances of things which the imagination offers to the mind. (Diog. Laert. l. vii.) The meditations of M. Aurelius, and the discourses of Epictetus, are full of the same sentiments; insomuch that this latter makes the〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, or right management of the fancys, the only thing for which we are accountable to providence, and without which a man is no other than stupid or frantic. Arrian. l. i. c. 12. & l. ii. c. 22. See also the Characteristics, vol. 1. from p. 313, to p. 321. where this Stoical doctrine is embellished with all the eloquence and graces of Plato.
30 With glaring colours and distorted lines.
45 Will he not chuse to be a wretch and live?
68 And plays her ideot-anticks, like a queen.
Notwithstanding the general influence of ridicule on private and civil life, as well as on learning and the sciences, it has been almost constantly neglected or misrepresented, by divines especially. The manner of treating these subjects in the science of human nature, should be precisely the same as in natural philosophy; from particular facts to investigate the stated order in which they appear, and then apply the general law, thus discovered, to the explication of other appearances and the improvement of useful arts.
77 The sportive province of the comic muse.
83 In proper orders your promiscuous throng.
Behold the foremost band, &c.
The first and most general source of ridicule in the characters of men, is vanity or self-applause for some desirable quality or possession which evidently does not belong to those who assume it.
92 And lists with self-applause each lordly brow.
108 And asks some wond'ring question of her fears.
120 Pour dauntless in and swell the boastful band.
Then comes the second order, &c.
Ridicule from the same vanity, where tho' the possession be real, yet no merit can arise from it, because of some particular circumstances, which, tho' obvious to the spectator, are yet overlook'd by the ridiculous character.
133 How many virgins at her triumphs pin'd!
151 The price of riches and the end of pow'r.
Ridicule from a notion of excellence in particular objects disproportion'd to their intrinsic value, and inconsistent with the order of nature.
164 Bedeck'd with feathers, insects, weeds and shells!
169 A muckworm's entrails or a spider's fang.
174 The dull ingagements of the bustling world!
175 Adieu the sick impertinence of praise!
178 Is all he asks, and all that fate can give!

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