Folly of Ostentation contrasted with Modesty.
Sit long and late at the carousing board?
(Such were the sins with which he charg'd his Lord.)
No-the man's morals were exact. What then?
'Twas his ambition to be seen of men;
His virtues were his pride; and that one vice
Made all his virtues gewgaws of no price;
He wore them, as fine trappings, for a show;
A praying, synagogue-frequenting, beau.
The self-applauding bird, the peacock, see-
Mark what a sumptuous pharisee is he!
Meridian sun-beams tempt him to unfold
His radiant glories; azure, green, and gold:
He treads as if, some solemn music near,
His measur'd step were govern'd by his ear;
And seems to say-Ye meaner fowl, give place;
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace!
Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes;
Though he, too, has a glory in his plumes.
He, christian like, retreats with modest mein
To the close copse, or far-sequester'd green,
And shines, without desiring to be seen,
Solitary Devotion to religious Offices condemned.
The plea of works, as arrogant and vain,
Heav'n turns from with abhorrence and disdain:
Not more affronted by avow'd neglect,
Than by the mere dissembler's feign'd respect.
What is all righteousness that men devise?
What--but a sordid bargain for the skies?
But Christ as soon would abdicate his own,
As stoop from heav'n to sell the proud a throne.
His dwelling a recess in some rude rock .;
Book, beads, and maple-dish, his meagre stock;
In shirt of hair and weeds of canvass dress'd,
Girt with a bell-rope that the pope has bless'd;
Adust with stripes, told out for ev'ry crime,
And sore tormented, long before his time;
His pray'r preferr'd to saints that cannot aid
His praise postpon'd, and never to be paid;
See the sage hermit, by mankind admir'd,
With all that bigotry adopts inspir'd,
Wearing out life in his religious whim,
"Till his religious whimsey wears out him.
Bodily Tortures self inflicted, condemned
His works, his abstinence, his zeal, allow'd,
You think him humble-God accounts him proud.
High in demand, though lowly in pretence,
Of all his conduct this the genuine sense-
My penitential stripes, my streaming blood,
Have purchas'd heav'n, and prove my title good,
Turn eastward now, and fancy shall apply
To your weak sight her telescopic eye.
The bramin kindles on his own bare head
The sacred fire self-torturing his trade!
His voluntary pains, severe and long,
Would give a barb'rous air to British song;
No grand inquisitor could worse invent,
Than he contrives, to suffer, well content.
Which is the saintlier worthy of the two?
Past all dispute, yon anchorite say you.
Your sentence and mine differ. What's a name? the bramin has the fairer claim.
If suff'rings, scripture no where recommends,
Devis'd by self, to answer selfish ends,
as the mere Indulgence of Pride.
Give saintship, then all Europe must agree
Ten starvling hermits suffer less than he.
The truth is (if the truth may suit your ear,
And prejudice have left a passage clear)
Pride has attain'd its most luxuriant growth,
And poison'd ev'ry virtue in them both.
Pride may be pamper'd while the flesh grows lean; Humility may clothe an English dean;
That grace was Cowper's-his, confess'd by all-
Though plac'd in golden Durham's second stall.
Not all the plenty of a bishop's board,
His palace, and his lacqueys, and "My Lord,"
More nourish pride, that condescending vice,
Than abstinence, and beggary, and lice:
It thrives in mis'ry and abundant grows;
In mis❜ry fools upon themselves impose.
But why before us protestants produce
An Indian mystic, or a French recluse?
Their sin is plain; but what have we to fear,
Reform'd, and well instructed? You shall hear.
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