Soon their crude notions with each other fought;
The adverse sect deny'd what this had taught;
And he at length the amplest triumph gain'd,
Who contradicted what the last maintain'd.
O wretched impotence of human mind!
We, erring still, excuse for errour find,
And darkling grope, not knowing we are blind.
Vain man! since first thy blushing sire essay'd
His folly with connected leaves to shade,
How does the crime of thy resembling race
With like attempt that pristine errour trace!
Too plain thy nakedness of soul espy'd,
Why dost thou strive the conscious shame to hide
By masks of eloquence and veils of pride?

With outward smiles their flattery I receiv'd,
Own'd my sick mind by their discourse reliev'd;
But bent, and inward to myself, again
Perplex'd, these matters I revolv'd in vain.
My search still tir'd, my labour still renew'd,
At length I ignorance and knowledge view'd,
Impartial; both in equal balance laid,

[weigh❜d. Light flew the knowing scale, the doubtful heavy

Forc'd by reflective reason, I confess,

That human science is uncertain guess.
Alas! we grasp at clouds, and beat the air,
Vexing that spirit we intend to clear.

Can thought beyond the bounds of matter climb ?
Or who shall tell me what is space or time?
In vain we lift up our presumptuous eyes
To what our Maker to their ken denies :

The searcher follows fast; the object faster flies.

The little which imperfectly we find,
Seduces only the bewilder'd mind

To fruitless search of something yet behind.
Various discussions tear our heated brain;
Opinions often turn; still doubts remain;
And who indulges thought, increases pain.

How narrow limits were to Wisdom given ! Earth she surveys; she thence would measure Heaven:

Through mists obscure now wings her tedious way;
Now wanders dazzled with too bright a day;
And from the summit of a pathless coast
Sees infinite, and in that sight is lost.

Remember, that the curs'd desire to know,
Offspring of Adam! was thy source of woe.
Why wilt thou then renew the vain pursuit,
And rashly catch at the forbidden fruit ;
With empty labour and eluded strife
Seeking, by knowledge, to attain to life;
For ever from that fatal tree debarr'd,
Which flaming swords and angry cherubs guard?

Book II.PLEASURE.

Texts chiefly alluded to in Book II.

"I said in my own heart, Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth; therefore enjoy pleasure.' ECCLES. chap. ii. ver. 1.

"I made me great works, I builded me houses, I planted me vineyards.” — Ver. 4.

"I made me gardens and orchards; and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits.". Ver. 5.

"I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees."— Ver. 6.

"Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do and behold all was vanity and vexation of spirit; and there was no profit under the Sun.". Ver. 11.

"I gat me men-singers and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts.' - Ver. 8.

"

"I sought in mine heart to give myself unto wine, (yet acquainting mine heart with wisdom) and to lay hold on folly, till I might see what was that good for the sons of men, which they should do under Heaven all the days of their life."

Ver. 3.

"Then I said in my heart, As it happeneth unto

the fool, so it happeneth even unto me; and why was I then more wise? Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity."— Ver. 15.

"Therefore I hated life, because the work that is wrought under the Sun is grievous unto me. Ver. 17.

"Dead flies cause the ointment to send forth a stinking savour: so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour."— Ch. x.

ver. 1.

"The memory of the just is blessed, but the memory of the wicked shall rot." - PROVERBS, ch. x. ver. 7.

The Argument.

Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it; begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings, the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations o libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes, that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All is vanity and vexation of spirit.

TRY then, O man, the moments to deceive, That from the womb attend thee to the grave: For weary'd Nature find some apter scheme : Health be thy hope, and Pleasure be thy theme. From the perplexing and unequal ways, Where study brings thee; from the endless maze, Which doubt persuades to run, forewarn'd, recede To the gay field and flowery path, that lead To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease: Forsake what may instruct, for what may please; Essay amusing art, and proud expense, And make thy reason subject to thy sense.

I commun'd thus: the power of wealth I try'd, And all the various luxe of costly pride; Artists and plans reliev'd my solemn hours; I founded palaces, and planted bowers;

Birds, fishes, beasts, of each exotic kind,
I to the limits of my court confin'd;

To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth;
Fish-ponds were made, where former forests grew,
And hills were levell'd to extend the view;
Rivers diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figur'd stone, or breathing gold;
From furthest Africa's tormented womb

The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars long-extended rows,

On which the planted grove, the pensile garden, grows.

The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret, and to paint the wall,
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne :
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carv'd, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.

A thousand artists show their cunning power,
To raise the wonders of the ivory tower.
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom,
To weave the bed, and deck the regal room;
Till Tyre confesses her exhausted store,
That on her coast the murex* is no more;

* The murex is a shell-fish, of the liquor whereof a purple colour is made.