Classic Poem

All human Race, from China to Peru .
Pleasure, howe'er disguis'd by Art, pursue;
In various Habits this fair Idol dress,
Yet still adore her, still her Power confess;
She leads pale Hermits to the mossy Cell,
And to the Box the Fop-encircled Belle;
The Shape of Business, nay of Virtue takes,
Presides alike o'er Aldermen and Rakes;
Admirers boasts in every various Rank,
Sends some to Bagnios, others to the Bank;
Now dwells in lofty Domes and trophy'd Halls,
Now near dark Woods and pensive Water-falls;
One, as she prompts loves Hounds and foamy Steeds,
And lonely One, by midnight Taper reads:
Who build or plan, or dress with Finery smit,
Or rhyme and starve, self-sacrific'd to Wit;
Who heap or scatter Gold, the Grave, the Gay,
Bend to this Monarch's universal Sway.
'Twas hence rough Charles rush'd forth to ruthless War,
Hence rov'd to foreign Climes the Patriot-Czar;
Nor found more Bliss to civilize Mankind,
Than Cynthia in her new-bought Chintz can find.
What home-felt Joys in Curio 's Bosom rise,
Glow in his Cheeks, and sparkle in his Eyes?
Is his Wife dead? Or have his Tenants found
Large Heaps of bury'd Treasure in his Ground?
Alas! you guess in vain; from India brought,
The Sage a curious Cockle-shell has bought.

'Tis said, the peevish Lesbia lately smil'd:
What had her Sullenness of Soul beguil'd?
Some thought Success at Hazard charm'd her Mind,
Or that her favourite Footman had been kind;
Or that her Dog or Parrot had been prais'd —
A new-invented Wash these Raptures rais'd.

To different Objects different Souls incline,
One clips his Hedges; one seeks Whist and Wine;
Rurelia feeds her Hens, and daily churns;
Her Sister such unpolish'd Creatures scorns:
Her Mind is fill'd with Coaches, Cards, and Plate,
Romance, Routes, Operas, Vapours, Chocolate.

When bold Columbus took his vent'rous Way,
On the rough Billows of an unknown Sea,
First found the curling Smoke from Hills arise,
And Rocks return the Sailors joyful Cries;
Felt not the Chief such Raptures thrill his Soul,
As Flavia , when she wins a doubtful Vole .

You, Decius , too, from common Frailties free,
A favourite Pleasure feel midst your Philosophy:
For You, beyond the vulgar Joys of Sense,
Enjoy unlimited Benevolence!