Self

SAYS I to my Tutor, Sir, what shall I do,
Shall I think to accumulate pelf?
Or Learning or Glory, which must I pursue?
Converse, quoth the Put, with yourself.

Myself I address'd, but Self seem'd in a huff,
Replying, we ne'er shall agree,
For Drinking and Cards, Folly, Shame, and such stuff,
Had charg'd all their Odiums on me.

Non est factum, says I, and resolv'd to be try'd,
Conceit bid me hope for some sport;
To Sessions I ran, I had Laugh on my side,
Intending to hum the whole Court.

But Reflection, a wretch who had no bus'ness there,
Nor Memory, yet wou'd come in;
Repentance bid Pleasure descend from the Chair,
And order'd the Cause to begin.

I begg'd a permission to call in my friends
To prove the defence I shou'd make;
Quoth Self as to Friendship he serv'd his own ends,
And only did things for my sake.

For his Mistress in Gaiety I was maintain'd,
For me he a Madman has prov'd;
Tho' he may to hundreds affection have feign'd,
Yet me, and me only he lov'd.

In a pet I resolv'd not a Witness to call,
The general Issue my Plea;
But challeng'd the Court, Judge and Jury, and all,
That they were as guilty as me.

'Tis the Loadstone of Life, to that point the world turns,
For Man is a miserly Elf,
Who cries and laughs, loves and hates, flatters and scorns,
As Interest acts upon Self.

But now I'm awake—I that Logic deny,
Which proves Self the ruler of Man;
To a Heart that can feel, weeping Beauty apply,
Let him think then of Self if he can.

'Till WOMAN has civiliz'd savage mankind,
We cannot susceptible prove;
But when her perfections have beam'd on our mind
We're brighten'd to Wisdom and Love.

Ye Scoffers begone, ye ridiculous base—
To Gratitude first be my Toast;
May Merit meet always with Friendship's embrace,
And each in each other be lost.