Classic Poem

Since none are known to live, but that they move,
Men, that they live, must by their Action prove:
Their Wit, their Reason, and Religion too,
Not by dead Faith, but living Action shew.
If they sin, who themselves of Life deprive,
The Sin's no less t' inter themselves alive;
And, 'gainst the End of Providence, to quit
The World, tho' made but for the Use of it.
Reason perswades us to Society,
Without which Men wou'd live most brutally.
If Love then of Society, at least,
Shews best the Diff'rence 'twixt the Man and Beast;
Man shou'd, for Love of Solitude, be stil'd
But more a Brute, more barbarous, or wild:
If he's more humane thought in Word or Deed,
Who seems in both more publick-spirited;
Then sneaking Solitude, (we must confess)
But seems, and is more brutal Selfishness,
And proves Man's Vanity, to think that he
Could to himself so all-sufficient be;
Believing, he his Wisdom best does shew,
And best himself, the World, and Mankind know,
As he the desart Parts of Life does range,
And his dear self from Social Joys estrange;
Swoln with proud Spleen, and Notions of his own,
He thinks to be a World t' himself alone:
And of a Life, and Freedom to dispose,
Both which he to the publick Service owes;
Since no Man, only for himself is made,
But for the World's sake, and his Neighbour's Aid.
If then his Life does to the State belong,
He lives in private to the publick Wrong;
To make himself an Out-law seems to strive,
And of a Subject does his King deprive,
Of conversable Man, turns selfish Brute,
And lives an unintelligible Mute;
Less, for his Sense, does to his Reason yield,
But lives, against his Sense and Nature, wild.

Yet since, 'tis said, in this World there are none
But must be Gods, or Friends, to live alone;
Then Man, to live here more securely must
In Solitude his own Self-love distrust;
And Hazards and Temptations best to fly,
Should from himself to safer Guides apply:
Not act like those that are so desp'rate grown,
They'll hearken to no Counsel but their own.
So Man, who was by Nature only meant
For Converse, shou'd not frustrate her Intent,
Since made for Friendship, Union, Company;
He lives, if he the Social World will fly,
To the Disproof of his Humanity;
And when retir'd, and speculative grown,
Is to Mankind but a more thinking Drone:
Less useful to himself, and to his Friends,
As most his Days in Solitude he spends.
Since ev'n the Mind, as Body restive grows,
And wanting Culture does its Functions lose.
Thought, without Motion, clogs the crouded Brain,
As Blood that stagnates, and becomes our Pain:
Leaguing with Death will play th' unfriendly Part,
As Blood will kill that's clotted round the Heart.

To busie Men, th' unactive too appear
As the fix'd Stars to moving Planets are;
Which, wanting Motion, must their Influence want,
And to the World be less significant;
For Men, like Stars, more awful still appear,
But as more useful in a higher Sphere,
And gain alike, as they more active grow,
Above more Glory, and more Pow'r below.

He then that leaves the World before he dies,
Sure of Himself the greatest Felon is;
Who ends his active Life, in spite of Fate,
Which bids him still the Call of Heav'n to wait;
Nay, ends it in a guilty, shameful Way,
Who does the uncompulsive Felon play;
Taking his Life and Company by stealth
From his best Friends, the World, and Commonwealth.