The Question

Occasion'd by a serious Admonition.

IS Mirth a Crime? Instruct me you that know;
Or shou'd these Eyes with Tears eternal flow:
No (let ye Powers) let this Bosom find,
Life's one grand Comfort a contented Mind:
Preserve this Heart, and may it find no room
For pale Despondence or unpleasing Gloom:
Too well the Mischief and the Pangs we know
Of doubtful Musing and prophetick Woe.
But now these Evils for a Moment rest,
And brighter Visions please the quiet Breast,
Where sprightly Health its blessed Cordial pours,
And chearful Thought deceives the gliding Hours:
Then let me smile, and trifle while I may,
Yet not from Virtue nor from Reason stray:
From hated Slander I wou'd keep my Tongue;
My Heart from Envy, and from Guilt my Song:
Nature's large Volume with Attention read,
Its God acknowledge, and believe my Creed:
Through Weakness, not Impiety, offend;
But love my Parent, and esteem my Friend.

If (like the most) my undistinguish'd Days
Deserve not much of Censure or of Praise:
If my still Life, like subterraneous Streams,
Glides unobserv'd, nor tainted by Extremes,
Nor dreadful Crime has stain'd its early Page,
To hoard up Terrors for reflecting Age;
Let me enjoy the sweet Suspence of Woe,
When Heav'n strikes me, I shall own the Blow:
Till then let me indulge one simple Hour,
Like the pleas'd Infant o'er a painted Flow'r:
Idly 'tis true: But guiltlesly the Time
Is spent in trifling with a harmless Rhyme.

Heroick Virtue asks a noble Mind,
A Judgment strong, and Passions well refin'd:
But if that Virtue's measur'd by the Will,
'Tis surely something to abstain from Ill.