1 Who strives to mount Parnassus' hill,
And thence poetic laurels bring,
Must first acquire due force and skill,
Must fly with swan's or eagle's wing.
2 Who Nature's treasures would explore,
Her mysteries and arcana know,
Must high as lofty Newton soar,
Must stoop as delving Woodward low.
3 Who studies ancient laws and rites,
Tongues, arts, and arms, and history;
Must drudge, like Selden, days and nights,
And in the endless labour die.
4 Who travels in religious jars,
(Truth mixed with error, shades with rays,)
Like Whiston, wanting pyx or stars,
In ocean wide or sinks or strays.
5 But grant our hero's hope, long toil
And comprehensive genius crown,
All sciences, all arts his spoil,
Yet what reward, or what renown?
6 Envy, innate in vulgar souls,
Envy steps in and stops his rise;
Envy with poisoned tarnish fouls
His lustre, and his worth decries.
7 He lives inglorious or in want,
To college and old books confined:
Instead of learned, he's called pedant;
Dunces advanced, he's left behind:
Yet left content, a genuine Stoic he,
Great without patron, rich without South Sea.