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thus liv'd obscurely then without a name, Aglaüs, now consign'd t' eternal fame: for Gyges, the rich king, wicked and great, presum'd at wise Apollo's Delphic seat, presum'd to ask, oh! thou, the whole world's eye, seest thou a man that happier is than I?. The god, who scorn'd to fatter man, reply'd, Aglaüs happier is. But Gyges cry'd, in a proud rage, Who can that Aglaüs be? we've heard as yet of no such king as he. And true it was, through the whole earth around no king of such a name was to be found. Is some old hero of that name alive, who his high race does from the gods derive? is it sone mighty gen’ral, that has done wonders in sight, and godlike honours won? is it some man of endless wealth? said he. None, none of these. Who can this Aglaüs be? after long search and vain inquiries past, in an obscure Arcadian vale at last, (th' Arcadian life has always shady been) near Sopho's town (which he but once had seen) this Aglaüs, who monarchs' envy drew, whose happiness the gods stood witness to, this mighty Aglaüs was lab’ring found, with his own hands, in his own little ground.

So, gracious God! (if it may lawful be among those foolish gods to mention thee,) so let me act, on such a private stage, the last dull scenes of my declining age: after long toils and voyages in vain, this quiet post let my toss'd vessel gain: of heav'nly rest this earnest to me lend; let my life sleep, and learn to love her end.

If ever I more riches did desire
than cleanliness and quiet do require;
if e'er ambition did my fancy cheat,
with any wish so mean as to be great;
continue, Heav'n! still from me to remove
the humble blessings of that life I love.

OF AVARICE. And, oh! what man's condition can be worse than his whom plenty starves and blessings curse? the beggars but a common fate deplore ; the rich poor man's emphatically poor. I admire, Macænas! how it comes to pass that no man ever yet contented was, por is, nor perhaps will be, with that state in which his own choice plants him, or his Fate. Happy the merchant, the old soldier cries, the Merchant, beaten with tempestuous skies; happy the soldier, one half hour to thee gives speedy death or glorious victory. The lawyer, knock'd up early from his rest by restless clients, calls the peasant bless'd; the peasant, when his labours ill succeed, envies the mouth which only talk does feed. 'Tis not (I think you'll say) that I want store of instances, if here I add no inore; they are enough to reach at least a mile beyond long Orator Fabius his style. But, hold, you whom no fortune e'er endears, gentlemen, male-contents, and mutineers, who bounteous Jove so often cruel.call,

No. 77.

behold Jove's now resolv'd to please you all. Thou, soldier, be a merchant; merchant, thou a soldier be; and lawyer, to the plough. Change all their stations straight; why do they stay? the devil a man will change, now when he may. Were I in General Jove's abused case, by Jove I'd cudgel this rebellious race: but he's too good. Be all then as you were, however, make the best of what you are, and in that state be cheerful and rejoice, which either was your fate or was your choice. No; they must labour yet, and sweat, and toil, and very miserable be a while; but’t is with a design only to gain what may their age with plenteous ease maintain. The prudent pismire does this lesson teach, and industry to lazy mankind preach : the little drudge does trot about and sweat, nor does he straight devour all he can get, but in his temp'rate mouth carries it home, a stock for winter, which he knows must come; and when the rolling world to creatures here. turns up the deform’d wrong side of the year, and shuts him in with storms, and cold, and wet, he cheerfully does his past labours eat. 0, does he so? your wise example, th' ant, does not at all times rest and plenty want; but weighing justly a mortal ant's condition, divides his life 'twixt labour and fruition. Thee neither heat, nor storms, nor wet, nor cold, from thy unnatural diligence can withhold: to th’Indies thou wouldst run, rather than see another, tho' a friend, richer than thee. Foud Mau! what good or beauty can be found

in heaps of treasure bury'd under ground? Which rather than diminish'd e'er to see, thou wouldst thyself, too, bury'd with them be. And what's the diff'rence? Is it not quite as bad nerer to use, as never to have had ? In thy vast barns millions of quarters store, thy belly, for all that, will hold no more than mine does. Ev'ry baker makes much bread; what then? he's with no more than others fed. Do you within the bounds of nature live, and to agument your own you need not strive. One hundred acres will no less for you your life's whole bus'ness than ten thousand do. But pleasant 't is to take from a great store. What, man! through you're resolved to take no more than I do from a small one? If your will

i be but a pitcher or a pot to fill. To some great river for it must you go,

ear spring just at your feet does flow? give me the spring which does to human use safe, easy, and untroubled stores produce: he who scorns these, and needs will drink at Nile must run the danger of the crocodile, and of the rapid stream itself, which may at unawares bear him, perhaps, away. In a full flood Tantalus stands, his skin wash'd o'er in vain for ever dry within ; he catches at the stream with greedy lips, from bis touch'd mouth the wanton torrent slips. You laugh, now, and expand your careful brow; 't is finely said, but what's all tbis to you? Change but the name, this fable is thy story; thou in a flood of useless wealth dost glory, which thou canst only touch, but never taste;

when a

th' abundance still, and still the wants does last. The treasures of the gods thou wouldst not spare, but when they 're inade thine own, they sacred are, and must be kept with rev'rence, as if thou no other use of precious gold didst know, but that of curious pictures, to delight, with the fair stamp, thy virtuoso sight. The only true and genuine use is this, to buy the things which Nature cannot miss without discomfort; oil, and vital bread, and wine, by which the life of Life is fed, and all those few things else by which we live; all that remains is giv'n for thee to give. If cares and troubles, envy, grief, and fear, the bitter fruits be which fair Riches bear, if

a new poverty grow out of store, the old plain way, ye Gods ! let me be poor.


Sapere aude, incipe, vivendi recte qui prorogat horain, rusticus expectat dum defluat ainnis, at ille labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis ævum. Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise; he who defers this work from day to day, does on a river's bank expecting stay, [gone, till the whole stream, which stopp'd bim, should be that runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on. Jam cras hesternum consumpsimus, ecce aliud cras egerit hos annos. Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone, and still a new to-morrow does come on, We by to-morrows draw up all our store, till the exhausted well can yield no more.

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