Classic Poem

If Wrongs receiv'd, from our agressing Foe,
We wou'd revenge, and that with Honour too;
We shou'd not our Resentment of them shew;
It more enrag'd our angry Foe wou'd make,
As we less Notice of his Anger take;
We have no Loss, 'till we our Patience lose,
No Wrong, but what our vain Resentment does:
Since bearing Wrongs affect us not with Shame,
'Till, by our Rage, our Weakness they proclaim.
Wrong, we wou'd best revenge, we ne'er return,
Since 'tis our best Revenge, proud Foes to scorn,
As it by Them is hardest to be born.

Therefore, by vanquishing our selves, we grow
More honour'd, than in conquering our Foe;
Whether by Rank, Power, Birth, or Nature, he,
Either above us, or beneath us, be.
If he's above us, we the Wrong requite,
When what we can't revenge, we yet can slight:
If he's beneath us, our Revenge we take
Less, as but more we him our Equal make;
And lose our Honour, for Resentment's sake.
If he's our Equal, we Inferiours grow,
And, that wer'e worsted by our Passions, shew;
Then if our Foe proves our Superiour, he,
Too hard for us, will for our Passion be.
Attacking him, we but Dishonour gain,
By seeking impotent Revenge, in vain,
And that way prove him much the better Man:
For if your Foe, on Trial, prove too strong,
Your self the more you right, the more you wrong;
And if that you suspect your Foe too weak,
Your Contest with him, will your Shame bespeak.
As more your Honour you contend to right
On him, who for his Own's afraid to fight;
One Way, or Other, so your Quarrel must
Be your Disgrace, since foolish or unjust.
Foolish, if that you shou'd attack your Foe,
Who wou'd, for Trial, prove too hard for you;
Or if in vain, you (for Resentment's sake)
A Man, that is too weak for you, attack;
And him, your Match, dishonourably make;
By either Quarrel purchasing your Shame,
To get a Bully's, or a Coward's Name.
If any Wrong be lately to you done,
In Honour, let not Vengeance rush too soon;
Lest just Revenge, when it too rashly flies,
Be judg'd but as a cowardly Surprize;
And if the Wrong be long since done to thee,
Then slow Revenge will thy Dishonour be:
Thus if Revenge may be, too late, or soon,
The Wrong'd right best their Fame by taking none;
Since, in forgiving Wrongs, most Honour's shown,
Man highest then above his Nature soars,
Subduing Passion which the World o'er pow'rs
By This, his Courage and his Wit are shewn,
Virtues distinct, that seldom meet in One!

If you your Foes Abroad wou'd overcome,
Conquer your Passions, your worst Foes at Home;
Passion subjects Man to his Foe but more,
As more he strives to get him in his Power:
For how, o'er Others, can his Pow'r be shown,
Whose Passion proves, he is not in his Own?
Besides Revenge does our Dishonour grow,
Which makes us Justice to our selves to do;
In our own Case, the Judge, and Party too!
Nay, Party-Judge, and Executioner,
Which proves but least our Courage, most our Fear;
Since he who gives Life to his Enemy,
Does all the Harms, his Foe can do, defie;
A Man, by pard'ning, does a King appear,
But by Revenge, an Executioner;
Who, by Revenge, the Name of Brute , wou'd gain,
By Patience, and by Mercy, will attain
Rev'rence, and like a God, 'midst Fellow-Mortals, reign.