Essay on Man: Epistle II

With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic’s pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast

Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little, or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused

Expunge the whole, or lop th’ excrescent parts
Of all our vices have created arts;
Then see how little the remaining sum,
Which served the past, and must the times to come!

Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call,
Each works its end, to move or govern all
And to their proper operation still,
Ascribe all good; to their improper, ill.

Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot,
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot

Self-love and reason to one end aspire,
Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire

Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair,
List under Reason, and deserve her care;
Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim,
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue’s name.

In lazy apathy let stoics boast
Their virtue fixed; ’tis fixed as in a frost

Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head,
As the mind opens, and its functions spread,
Imagination plies her dangerous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.

Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please,
Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease;
Through life ’tis followed, even at life’s expense;
The merchant’s toil, the sage’s indolence

The monk’s humility, the hero’s pride,
All, all alike, find reason on their side.

The eternal art, educing good from ill,
Grafts on this passion our best principle:
’Tis thus the mercury of man is fixed,
Strong grows the virtue with his nature mixed

The dross cements what else were too refined,
And in one interest body acts with mind.

What crops of wit and honesty appear
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear!

What crops of wit and honesty appear
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear!

See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
Even avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy

See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
Even avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy

See anger, zeal and fortitude supply;
Even avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy

Envy, to which th’ ignoble mind’s a slave,
Is emulation in the learned or brave

Envy, to which th’ ignoble mind’s a slave,
Is emulation in the learned or brave

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

That counter-works each folly and caprice;
That disappoints th’ effect of every vice

Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite:
Scarves, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before;
Till tired he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.

Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays
Those painted clouds that beautify our days

Each want of happiness by hope supplied,
And each vacuity of sense by pride