NARCISSA.
47
Virtue—She, wonder-working Goddess! charms
That Rock to bloom; and tames the painted Shrew;
And what will more surprise, Lorenzo! gives
To Life's sick, nauseous Iteration, Change;
And straitens Nature's Circle to a Line.
Believ'st Thou This, Lorenzo! Lend an Ear,
A Patient Ear, Thou'lt blush to disbelieve.
A languid, leaden Iteration reigns,
And ever must, o'er Those, whose Joys are Joys
Of Sight, Smell, Taste: The Cuckow-seasons sing
The same dull Note to such as nothing prize,
But what those Seasons, from the teeming Earth,
To doating Sense indulge. But nobler Minds,
Which relish Fruits unripen'd by the Sun,
Make their Days various; various as the Dyes
On the Dove's Neck, which wanton in his Rays.
On Minds of Dove-like Innocence possest,
On lighten'd Minds, that bask in Virtue's Beams,
Nothing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves
In That, for which they long; for which they live.
Their glorious Efforts, wing'd with Heav'nly Hope,
Each rising Morning sees still higher rise;
Each bounteous Dawn its Novelty presents
To Worth maturing, new Strength, Lustre, Fame;
While Nature's Circle, like a Chariot-wheel
Rolling beneath their elevated Aims,
Makes their fair Prospect fairer ev'ry Hour;
Advancing Virtue, in a Line to Bliss;
Virtue, which Christian Motives best inspire!
And Bliss, which Christian Schemes alone ensure!
And shall we then, for Virtue's Sake, commence
Apostates? and turn Infidels for Joy?
A Truth it is, Few doubt, but Fewer trust,
"He sins against this Life, who slights the next."
What is this Life? How Few their Fav'rite know?
That Rock to bloom; and tames the painted Shrew;
And what will more surprise, Lorenzo! gives
To Life's sick, nauseous Iteration, Change;
And straitens Nature's Circle to a Line.
Believ'st Thou This, Lorenzo! Lend an Ear,
A Patient Ear, Thou'lt blush to disbelieve.
A languid, leaden Iteration reigns,
And ever must, o'er Those, whose Joys are Joys
Of Sight, Smell, Taste: The Cuckow-seasons sing
The same dull Note to such as nothing prize,
But what those Seasons, from the teeming Earth,
To doating Sense indulge. But nobler Minds,
Which relish Fruits unripen'd by the Sun,
Make their Days various; various as the Dyes
On the Dove's Neck, which wanton in his Rays.
On Minds of Dove-like Innocence possest,
On lighten'd Minds, that bask in Virtue's Beams,
Nothing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves
In That, for which they long; for which they live.
Their glorious Efforts, wing'd with Heav'nly Hope,
Each rising Morning sees still higher rise;
Each bounteous Dawn its Novelty presents
To Worth maturing, new Strength, Lustre, Fame;
While Nature's Circle, like a Chariot-wheel
Rolling beneath their elevated Aims,
Makes their fair Prospect fairer ev'ry Hour;
Advancing Virtue, in a Line to Bliss;
Virtue, which Christian Motives best inspire!
And Bliss, which Christian Schemes alone ensure!
And shall we then, for Virtue's Sake, commence
Apostates? and turn Infidels for Joy?
A Truth it is, Few doubt, but Fewer trust,
"He sins against this Life, who slights the next."
What is this Life? How Few their Fav'rite know?
Fond
