382 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. It is a felicity in human life to have a good degree of cou- rage in- wrought into our very frame, and mingled with our blood and spirits. Virtue itself; even where it has a great as- cendant in the soul, has not power to exert itself, and shine out to the world, if animal nature want this brave and hardy tem- perament. How much do I feel myself stand in need of this fortitude of constitution ? What shall I do to acquire it ? Me- thinks I should be ready to part with a few ornaments of the mind, and make an exchange of some of the more showy and glittering sciences for this bodily virtue, if 1 may so express it, this complexional bravery. I confess there are some other and worse principles than a mere defect of natural courage which tempt a man sometimes to comply with the fashion, and to fall in roundly with the errors and vices of the times. Some persons have so little love to truth and virtue, and such an excessive fondness for the thing called self, that they will never expose themselves to the least inconveniency, in order to support the honour of wisdom and religion among men. Such an- one was Crispus in the fourth satire of Juvenal, who ever flattered the court, and soothed the successive emperors in all their vices, and by this means drew out his age to fourscore years. " Ille igitur nunquam direxit brachia contra " Torrentem ; nec civis erat, qui libera posset " Verba animi prof erre, & vitam impendere vero. , Sic multas hyemes, atque octogesima vidit as Solstitia, his armis, illd quoque tutus in au1b." Paraphrased thus. He never was the man that dar'd to swim Against the rolling tide, or cross the stream ; He was no patriot, nor indulg'd his breath Bravely to speak his sense, and venture death. Thus he spun out his supple soul, and drew, A length of life amidst a vicious crew, Full fourscore years he saw the sun arise, Guarded by flattery, and intrench'd in lies; For 'twas his settl'd judgment from his youth, One grain of ease was worth a world of truth. But this wretched self-love is so vile a principle, that it will not only constrain a man to avoid his duty, but it will oftentimes push him upon most inhuman practices, and make him sacrifice his friends, his parents, or his country to his own ease and safety. O cursed idol self! The wretch that worships thee would dare to tread With impious feet on his own father's head, To 'scope a rising; wave when seas the land invade. To gain the safety of some higher ground, He'd trample down the dikes that fence his country round Amidst a general flood, and leave the nationdrown'd
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