STACK 
 
 ANNEX 
 
 PR 
 
 3782 
 N56 
 1859 
 
 m 

 
 /
 
 o 

 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 
 
 ON 
 
 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY; 
 
 AND 
 
 Jjart of % o0k 0f |00 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D., 
 
 SOMETIME RECTOR OP WELWYN. HERTS. 
 
 REVISED AND COLLATED WITH THE EABLY QUAKTO EDITIONS. 
 
 WITH A LIFE OP THE AUTHOR 
 BY DR. DORAN. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 THIKD EDITION. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 WILLIAM TEGG AND CO., 85, QUEEN-STREET, 
 CHEAPSIDE.
 
 PRINTRD BY JA.MES Nlf-tOLS, 
 HOXTON-SQUARK.
 
 Stack Annex 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 To the principal poem in this volume a work which hag 
 won for its author an imperishable fame I have given 
 the simple title of the " Night Thoughts." The prefix 
 which it usually bears, is " The Complaint." But this 
 inappropriate epithet was adopted in consequence of the 
 peculiar mode in which the work made its appearance. 
 Each Night was published, at intervals of several mouths, 
 a a complete pamphlet, in royal quarto, stitched in blue 
 paper covers ; and embellished with a fine view of Welwyn 
 churchyard, where the author is seen pursuing his noctur- 
 nal studies under the influences of a bright moon and a 
 serene sky. All of them had a distinct title in addition to 
 the " Night Thoughts," except the Second, which had 
 merely, " Night the Second, on Time, Death, Friendship." 
 As the Second had no special title, Dodsley, who was a 
 more successful bookseller than poet, made "The Com- 
 plaint " serve as its general title, as it had done for that 
 of the First Night. The work having early assumed a 
 desultory and uncertain character, as will afterwards be 
 shown, the publisher was induced to prefix the same gene- 
 ral but incongruous title to the subsequent pamphlets, for 
 the purpose of securing uniformity. But by this act he 
 perpetrated a sad anomaly ; as will be seen by a perusal 
 of the titles of the other Nights, which were severally, 
 " Narcissa," " The Christian Triumph," " The Eelapse," 
 " The Infidel Reclaimed, Part I.," " The Infidel Reclaimed, 
 Part II.," " Virtue's Apology," and " The Consolation." 
 To none of these can " The Complaint " be considered an 
 appropriate adjunct, except perhaps to "The Relapse." 
 But " NIGHT THOUGHTS " was the name which Dr. Young, in 
 his correspondence, uniformly gave to his grand poem, and 
 a 2 
 
 2017220
 
 by which, it is evident, he wished it always to be desig- 
 nated; for when he had collected together his different 
 " pieces in four volumes," deeming them " to be the most 
 excusable of all that he had formerly written," he 
 announced " the Works," on the title of each volume, not 
 as those of DR. YOUNG, but "of THE AUTHOR OF THE NIGHT 
 THOUGHTS." 
 
 In these several parts, the various Nights must have been 
 very popular, and obtained a large circulation. I possess 
 two perfect copies ; the nine parts, when bound together, 
 making a thick quarto volume. One of them consists 
 principally of first impressions ; and I find, after comparing 
 them, that the First, Second, and Third Nights had 
 reached the fifth edition in 1744. The Fourth Night 
 appeared in 1748 : In the preface the author made this 
 announcement : " Since the Fourth Night finishes one 
 principal and important theme, it will be a proper pausing- 
 place for the reader, and the writer too. And it is uncer- 
 tain whether Providence or Inclination will permit him to 
 go any further" Dodsley, having very naturally inter- 
 preted this passage to intimate an intention of discontinu- 
 ing the work, proceeded immediately to publish the Four 
 Nights in an octavo volume, and, for the first time, with a 
 consecutive paging. The sale in this form was rapid. . I 
 have two copies, differing from each other in the numbering 
 of the pages : one is the ffth edition, and the other the 
 sixth ; but both were published before the close of 1743. 
 The very accurate octavo edition of the nine Nights, 
 which issued from Kichardson's press in 1749, was the 
 eighth of the poem in a complete form ; and it had as an 
 appendage the " Paraphrase on Part of the Book of Job." 
 
 Some misunderstanding must have arisen between 
 Young and Dodsley in 1744, after the appearance of 
 "Night the Sixth;" for the Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth 
 Nights were " printed for G. HAWKINS, at Milton's Head, 
 between the two Temple-Gates, Fleet-street ; and sold by
 
 M. COOPER, at the Globe in Paternoster Row." It is proba- 
 ble, that, as Young had seemed desirous of consolidating 
 his remaining Nights into a kind of poetical treatise on the 
 evidences of Christianity, Dodsley had refused to give him 
 as large a sum for the copyright of the Sixth Night, as he 
 had done for any of its predecessors, and had offered him 
 still less for the Seventh. As a tradesman, the publisher was 
 right in the judgment to which he seems to have come ; 
 for though the succeeding three Nights embody one of the 
 ablest and most original defences of the principles and 
 influences of Christianity that had ever appeared in our 
 language, yet they are destitute of those strong claims on 
 our natural sympathies which their gifted author had con- 
 trived, with consummate skill, to intertwine, in the preced- 
 ing five Nights, between his arguments and his appeals. 
 Night the Sixth had in consequence assumed a form of 
 cold abstraction, unrelieved by those personal and affecting 
 allusions ; and its successors promised to be equally didac- 
 tic. Tinder these circumstances, therefore, no one could 
 have been surprised had Dodsley thus decided. The 
 " Night Thoughts," published in two thin octavos, usually 
 bound together, appeared to be the property of these two 
 rival firms, till, a few years afterwards, Dodsley's name is 
 seen prefixed to the whole work in one volume. 
 
 In preparing this edition for the press, I have had the 
 Advantage of consulting, at my leisure, all the early impres- 
 sions now enumerated, with many others of a subsequent 
 date; especially one of great excellence, a trade-book,* 
 (published in 1796,) in which the editor restored to the 
 text all the verses which Young had deleted in his several 
 revisions. But I have pursued another course : As the edition 
 of 1762 had the benefit of the author's final emendations, it 
 
 * The proprietors were " T. Longman ; J. Dodsley ; C. Dilly ; F. and 
 C. Kivington; W. Otridge and Son; T. Cadell, Jun., and \V. Davies; 
 and liuokham and Carpenter."
 
 has, with the foregoing exception, been universally acknow- 
 ledged as the received text ; and as such I have adopted it, 
 and have given, in foot-notes, those passages which he had 
 cither suppressed or altered. For these, and for a few 
 other brief notes, all of which are subscribed with the word 
 EDITOR, I am accountable. 
 
 JAMES NICHOLS. 
 
 46, HOXTON-$QUARE, 
 
 Marcii 1st, 1853.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 PREPACK iii 
 
 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.... xiii 
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 NIOHT I. ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY 5 
 
 II. ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP 21 
 
 III. NARCISSA 17 
 
 IV. THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH 67 
 
 V. THE RELAPSE 97 
 
 
 
 VI. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. PART 1 131 
 
 VII. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. PART II 161 
 
 VIII.. VIRTUE'S APOLOGY 213 
 
 L2L THE CONSOLATION 259 
 
 A PARAPHRASE ON PART OF THE BOOK 
 
 OF JOB 335 
 
 INDEX 357
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 BY DR. DORAN. 
 
 IN the month of June, 1681, the drought that prevailed 
 throughout England increased the gloom which already 
 reigned in every district of the kingdom save at Whitehall 
 and Hampton-Court. At the latter palace, especially, 
 Charles II. was keeping high revel. Meanwhile, men sat 
 sullenly within their homes, conversing" of the universal 
 distress and the national degradation ; of the plots by 
 which political partisans got rid of their adversaries ; of the 
 scaffolds raised rather for martyrs than criminals; and 
 of the bold speech of Halifax in the senate, that had 
 secured to the Duke of York the royal inheritance, which 
 he was destined to forfeit as James II. 
 
 In the month and year above-named there was somewhat 
 of excitement in the little rectory-house of Upham, in 
 Hampshire. The excitement ended in joy and congratula- 
 tions, for the rector's good wife had presented her husband 
 with a boy ; and the reverend gentleman kissed, with dig- 
 nified emotion, his only son and intended namesake. 
 Charles was then king, and Dryden was the laureate. 
 
 The child that day born, in the reign of Charles II., 
 died an old man, very full of years, under the sceptre of 
 George III. There are some aged loiterers who still won- 
 deringly tarry at old-fashioned hearths near Welwyn, whose 
 youthful eyes had looked upon Edward Young, when the 
 latter was near upon the limits of his earthly career, 
 b
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 Edward Young had himself, ia his early childhood at 
 Upham, gazed upon men of many winters, whose births 
 dated from the period of the first Stuart who ruled in 
 England. Thus one person forms the link of communica- 
 tion between individuals who lived respectively in the 
 reign of James I. and of Queen Victoria. 
 
 The summer of 1681, celebrated for its drought, was fol- 
 lowed by a winter as famous for its severity. But this win- 
 ter was forgotten in the more renowned and terrible rigours 
 of that of 1683, when the frost set in a day before Algernon 
 Sidney's execution, in December, and continued till the 
 4th of February in the following year. The latter day was 
 that on which the Earl of Danby was brought from the 
 Tower to Westminster, after his five years' imprisonment. 
 At half the hearths in England men were discoursing of lit- 
 tle else than the crowded fair on the frozen Thames, the 
 coaches running on the ice, and the roasting of oxen 
 whole. At Upham the conversation admitted of diversity ; 
 and the good rector and his lady could talk complacently 
 of the honour that had fallen on the little Edward when 
 the Princess Anne took upon herself the responsibilities 
 of sponsorship, and became his godmother. 
 
 The father of Edward was, at this period, entirely undis- 
 tinguished beyond the localities of Upham and of Salisbury, 
 where, as the versatile Bishop Sprat remarked, he held the 
 poorest prebendal stall (that of Gillingham Minor) in the 
 cathedral. He was of a Berkshire family of some standing, 
 and was a Christian gentleman and scholar. Sprat, who 
 was fonder of wit than of divinity, gave his own emphatic 
 admiration to a Latin sermon which the rector of Upham 
 preached before him at the episcopal visitation in 1686. 
 The sermon, which was on the " Idea of Christian Love," 
 enjoyed the singular distinction of being translated into 
 English verse. It was poetized at the suggestion of Waller 
 when he was dying of dropsy, and quoting Virgil on the 
 uncomfortable condition of human life ; and it was pub-
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 lished, with laudatory verses to and from " that excellent 
 poetess," Mrs. Anne Wharton. 
 
 Sixteen years after the publication of this sermon, the 
 Rev. Edward Young, who had, in the mean time, been suc- 
 cessively raised to the offices of dean of Sarum and chaplain 
 to " William and Mary," published his collected sermons 
 in two volumes, dedicating them to Lord Bradford, to 
 whose good offices it is believed he owed, in great part, 
 his preferment. His now well-known deserts, however, 
 may claim some share in that result. He was no longer an 
 undistinguished man. His Discourses upon Nature and 
 Grace had already, in 1699, been printed by Bowyer, in 
 White-Friars, at what had once been the George Tavern, 
 the scene of a portion of Shad well's "Squire of Alsatia." 
 During the short remainder of his life he enjoyed con- 
 siderable literary reputation, added to that which he had 
 acquired for excellencies of even brighter quality. He died 
 in 1705, aged sixty-two years and some months. Bishop 
 Burnet alluded, in a sermon, to the suddenness of the 
 catastrophe and the merit of the sufferer. " Death," said 
 he, " has been of late walking round us, and making breach 
 upon breach upon us, and has now carried away the head 
 of this body with a stroke ; so that he whom you saw a 
 week ago distributing the holy mysteries, is now laid in 
 the dust. But he still lives in the many excellent direc- 
 tions he has left us, both how to live and how to die." 
 With such an eulogy the praise awarded to him in the 
 inscription on his tomb, as Vir cum primis eruditus, 
 probus, integer, is in strict accordance. 
 
 At the period of the dean's death, his son, the future 
 poet, was a member of Corpus Christi College, Oxford. 
 Like his father, he had been, in his boyhood, on the found- 
 ation at Winchester School, where the brother of Colley 
 Gibber was his schoolfellow. He should, in due time, have 
 proceeded to a scholarship in New College, Oxford ; but, 
 of the seventy fellows and scholars who are elected from 
 b 2
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 many his wit may have slain there, it is hard to say ; 
 hut Edward Young received all its points on his buckler, 
 and smote his philosophical adversary with right good-will. 
 Tindal acknowledged that, while he could always find a 
 ready answer to the objections of " the other boys," because 
 he knew whither they had gone for their arguments, he 
 could not overcome Young, who was always encountering 
 him with something original. Such direct testimony is 
 better than that, not opposite, indeed, but somewhat dis- 
 qualifying, evidence which has been filtered to us from 
 Pope, through Warburton and Ruflfhead. According to 
 Pope, " Young had much of a sublime genius, though with- 
 out common sense ; so that his genius, having no guide, 
 was perpetually liable to degenerate into bombast. This 
 made him pass for a foolish youth, the sport of peers and 
 poets ; but his having a very good heart enabled him to 
 support the clerical character, when he assumed it, first 
 with decency, and afterwards with honour." 
 
 In the year 1710, when Thomas Marquis of Wharton (the 
 father of Philip) was lord lieutenant of Ireland, and Addi- 
 son was secretary, Young is supposed to have held some 
 office in the household of the viceroy, or to have been 
 under-secretary to Addison. In the dearth of original 
 documents relating to Young, a letter found in the Sloane 
 MSS. in the British Museum, was eagerly seized as a proof 
 of this conjecture. It was addressed to M. Dcsmaiseaux, 
 an eminent French Protestant refugee, well known as the 
 editor of Bayle ; and was first published in " the Gentle- 
 man's Magazine" for 1782, p. 224. It was evidently writ- 
 ten by a man of business, long accustomed to official 
 phraseology ; and the pi-oduction was ascribed to the right 
 author, in a subsequent Number of that Magazine, (p. 433,) 
 by a gentleman of his acquaintance, who says, " The writer 
 of it was the late Mr. Young, of the Tax Office ; who, as it 
 is well known among his friends, was under-secretary to 
 Mr. Addison in Ireland, in the year 1709-10. I have fre-
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 quently heard him mention Eustace Budgell's being next 
 under him in office." 
 
 In SPENCE'S " Anecdotes " we are informed, on the autho- 
 rity of Dr. Young, that " it was the Marquis of Wharton 
 who first got Addison a seat in the House of Commons; 
 and soon after carried him down with him to Winchenden. 
 Addison was charmed with his son, (afterwards Duke of 
 Wharton,) not only as his patron's son, but for the uncom- 
 mon degree of genius that appeared in him. He used to 
 converse and walk often with him. One day the little lord 
 led him to see some of their fine running horses. There 
 were very high gates to the fields ; and at the first of them 
 his young friend fumbled in his pockets, and seemed vastly 
 concerned that he could not find the key. Addison said it 
 was no matter, he could easily climb over it : As he said 
 this, he began mounting the bars ; and when he was on the 
 very top of the gate, the little lord whips out his key, and 
 sets the gate a swinging, and so for some time kept this 
 great man in that ridiculous situation." 
 
 In the year 1712, Young first appeared before the public 
 as a candidate for honour, poetical and otherwise. The 
 political necessities of the times had rendered an increase 
 in the members of the peerage an object of much import- 
 ance. The measure, however, was not effected without 
 much attendant indignation on the part of the anti- 
 ministerial faction. A dozen new lords were called to the 
 Upper House on the same day. Of these, ten were crea- 
 tions, two were sons of peers, in whose paternal titles their 
 own would one day merge. Among the former was Mr. 
 Granville, the grandson of the famous old Sir Bevil Gran- 
 ville, who fell in the mdlee at Lansdowne, in 1643. 
 
 In the reign of Queen Anne, the ministry sometimes 
 effectually silenced their opponents by making them peers ; 
 and four of those now created had been the fiercest adver- 
 saries of the government. Granville was one of these ; and 
 he was speedily further advanced to the office of lord privy
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 seal. The poets at once assailed him with gigantic weight 
 and varied quality of rhyme. Pope, indeed, sang to Lans- 
 downe, on the plea that " Granville commands." TickeH 
 addressed him on the "Prospect of Peace;" and Young, 
 who recollected how Addison had profited by penning 
 metrical addresses to Somers, put forth his " maiden ven- 
 ture," and published it, in 1713, in the hugest of folio 
 forms, and in the most stupendous of types. It is in as 
 modest and unflattering a strain as poets could then use 
 when writing to their patrons. 
 
 The dramatic criticism in this poem is in every way 
 admirable. It shows that Young was then looking towards 
 the stage for fame. His phrasing, however, exhibits those 
 pernicious involutions from which he never freed, nor 
 cared to free, himself. Here we have, " He grasps my 
 hand, my hand he grasps ;" just as, nearly half a century 
 later, he wrote, 
 
 " Canst thou, O Night! indulge one labour more? 
 One labour more indulge." 
 
 With vices of phrasing, there are, also, vices of sentiment. 
 It is only an epicure who could weep because 
 
 " Alarms from loaden boards all pleasure chased, 
 And robb'd the rich Burgundian grape of taste." 
 
 But his anxiety for peace was much less than his anxiety 
 to secure the good-will of his patron, of whom he says, in 
 connexion with his newly-coronetted fellows, 
 
 " Lo ! one great day calls forth ten mighty peers : 
 Produce ten Granvilles in five thousand years." 
 
 This is a swelling challenge indeed ; and, while the world 
 is meditating upon the perils of accepting it, the panegyrist 
 extends his eulogy, and, among other virtues, he hints that, 
 to the lords whom he especially praises, is given that of be- 
 coming fathers of none but virtuous children. The privi- 
 lege, as history shows, was, however, most assuredly not in
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD TOTTNO, LL.D. Xxi 
 
 their patent. The superlative peers begot some positively 
 indifferent sons. 
 
 Our author is precise, as well as laudatory. He fixes the 
 year of Granville's creation as 
 
 " That noted year Europa sheathed her sword, 
 When tliis great man was first saluted lord." 
 
 Europa, then, must have been easily cowed : as for the 
 words themselves, they remind me of 
 
 L'an que le Slew de Benserade 
 Jfulla point d son ambassade. 
 
 The lines, however, in this poem to 
 
 " That youthful Harrison, whose tuneful skill 
 Made Woodstock-Park scarce yield to Cooper's-Hill," 
 
 as Tickell well described him, are fine and full of feeling. 
 They are connected, moreover, with the biography of the 
 author ; for they allude to counsel which Harrison gave, 
 and which Young did not follow. 
 
 Young's literary labour, in 1713, produced some metrical 
 praise of Addison's " Cato," of no value whatever. His 
 tragedy of " Busiris " was also written in this year ; but, as 
 it was not produced till 1719, I will defer speaking of it 
 until I come to the record of that year. His industry was 
 further exemplified by the completion of his poem, " The 
 Last Day." It must be admitted that Young, while he was 
 a persevering student, cultivated his learned leisure in 
 praiseworthy companionship with the Muses ; and that, 
 if he was now and then to be found among those who cele- 
 brated the "swopping mallard" of All Souls every night in 
 the year, he was not forgetful of the better ends for which 
 Archbishop Chichely had founded the College itself. 
 
 Moore, in speaking of the various attitudes, and ways, 
 and tricks that authors have in writing, notices some who 
 could write only standing still, others who wore the floor 
 out, "measuring a line at every stride," and some, again, 
 who poured out rhymes by the dozen while they rode :
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUXG, LI..D. 
 
 " Herodotus wrote most in bed ; 
 
 And Richerand, a learn'd physician, 
 Declares the clock-work of the head 
 
 Goes best in that reclined position. 
 If you consult Montaigne and Pliny on 
 The subject, 't is their joint opinion, 
 That Thought its richest harvest yields 
 Abroad among the woods and fields," &c. 
 
 Young had not yet adopted the system of Henry Stephens, 
 who composed as he rode abroad : he had, nevertheless, a 
 way of his own. He is described, at this time, as shutting out 
 the sunlight, creating in his room an artificial night even 
 at high noon, and writing amid all the inspiration that he 
 could derive from the gloomy memorials of death which 
 formed the ornaments of his study. Mr. Eawlinson informs 
 us, that " when the Doctor was deeply engaged in writing 
 one of his tragedies, the Duke of Wharton procured a 
 human skull, fixed a candle in it, and gave it to him as the 
 most proper lamp by which to write tragedy." 
 
 The " Last Day" is said to have been partly written in 
 1710. There is in it some confusion of details, and some 
 incongruous mixing of little things with great. The 
 figures are ambitious, but not always successful. For the 
 following, of a proclaiming angel, for instance, he would 
 seem to have gone to the workshop of a carver of tomb- 
 stones : 
 
 " When, lo ! a mighty trump, one half conceal'd 
 In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd," &c. 
 
 Some of the sentiments are opposed to those subsequently 
 written by him in his "Night Thoughts :" I would specify 
 that wherein he says, that " This is the scene of combat, 
 not of rest." We perhaps find a reminiscence and an 
 "experience" of his college life in the seriousness with 
 which, not only in the "Last Day," but in many others 
 of his productions, he places Beauty among the greatest 
 tempters that man has to withstand, and, in partnership
 
 LIFE OP EDWAKD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 with man, among the greatest sinners. Thus, at the resur- 
 rection, " Beauty hides her face." I do not find that pla- 
 giarists are even hinted at as offenders : if such had been 
 the case, I presume that Young would not have rifled 
 Shirley's poetical storehouse, to take from it the passage in 
 which he asks, 
 
 " And shall the victor now 
 Boast the proud laurels on his loaded brow ? " 
 
 There are incidents in poetry and painting in which the 
 greatest artists must fail when they attempt to realize what 
 is beyond human conception. Such is the uniting of the 
 scattered limbs of the dead. Young's description is not 
 appalling, but pantomimic. In far better taste is that 
 of the re-union of soul and body ; and there is something 
 of the ring of true metal in his sketch of Westminster- 
 Abbey, 
 
 " Where passing slaves o'er sleeping monarchs tread." 
 The true artist is again to be recognised in the graphic 
 picture of the resurrection. There is something not far 
 from sublimity in the congregating of souls at the bar 
 of the Supreme Judge ; and the author could, perhaps, 
 have reached sublimity itself, had he touched on the 
 delight of encountering ancient worthies there, less in the 
 precise spirit of a fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, and 
 more in that of a philosophical divine. But then how 
 masterly are touches like the following ! when, treating 
 of the assembling at the final tribunal, he suddenly bursts 
 forth with the query and the injunction, 
 
 " And thou, my soul, (O fall to sudden prayer, 
 And let the thought sink deep !) shalt thou be there ?" 
 
 Indeed, delight and disappointment go hand in hand 
 throughout this poem, full as it is of merits and defects. 
 We no sooner acknowledge that he has lent an additional 
 bliss to his heaven, by admitting there the mutual recog- 
 nition of those who knew each other upon earth, than we
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 find the bliss changed to eternal penalty, by his extending 
 this power of recognition to the saved and those whom they 
 have loved, but whose lot is among the sous of perdition. 
 So the picture of the trembling eagerness of those who are 
 about to pass the threshold of eternal bliss is spoiled, by 
 comparing it with the less heavenly anxiety of a bride- 
 groom, who is in ecstasy at receiving his bride at the altar, 
 and in mortal fear lest something should happen to snatch 
 her from him. 
 
 This poem was printed at Oxford, by permission of the 
 vice-chancellor. Young dedicated it to Queen Anne, in 
 acknowledgment of indulgences received, but which are 
 not further named. The style of the dedication is that 
 of flattery gone mad; a Chinese sovereign would almost 
 blush at hearing himself so bepraiscd. Lin Sin, who 
 forbade his ministers to trouble him with any of the 
 affairs of his empire, was never insulted in more awkwardly- 
 stupendous bombast. Swift accounted for such bombast 
 by saying, that Young and the paid writers of the court 
 " could not err on flattery's side." And as for the absurd 
 imagery of the dedication, why, said the dean, 
 
 " Young must torture his invention 
 To flatter knaves, or lose his pension." 
 
 Of any fixed pension, however, settled on our poet, there 
 is no documentary record till the year 1725. In the mean 
 time he had to strive for it, and to deserve it. His next 
 attempt, in 1713, was presented to the world in the poem 
 of the " Force of Religion ; or, Vanquished Love." The 
 subject is founded on the execution of Lady Jane Grey and 
 her husband, Lord Guildford. The former, as represented 
 by our poet, has not sufficient dignity ; while the latter has 
 a superabundance of uxoriousness. A very little alteration 
 of words would give to his speeches the over-warm tone 
 of the ridiculous husbands in Foote's farces or Congreve's 
 plays. His grief is not half so lively at losing his wife as
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 at being deprived, by her death, of the dear delights he 
 loved. His anticipations have no religious aspect ; and his 
 retrospect is busied with alluding to matters that, at such a 
 moment, might well have been forgotten. The poet him- 
 self partakes of the feeling which he attributes to Guild- 
 ford. He evidently thinks poor "Queen Jane" but a very 
 indifferent heroine after great Queen Anne ; and, with lit- 
 tle of the air of a man who is desirous of showing the force 
 of religion, he maccaronically alludes to the ladies, with an 
 assurance that, in their beauty, accomplishments, youth, 
 and fortune, men see revealed "all of heaven that men 
 below may view." 
 
 The action of the married and unhappy pair is described 
 to the reader with the minuteness of a stage direction in a 
 German comedy ; and therein their reality is lost, making 
 of them scenic actors, for whom our sympathy is too sloth- 
 ful to be aroused. In his " Last Day," Young had used the 
 expression of " the pious violence of prayer." The players 
 in the " Critic," when they did get a good idea, never knew 
 how to make enough of it : so Young repeats, in his very 
 next poem, the phrase that flattered his ear ; and here we 
 have it but slightly altered, under the intimation that 
 " We force the gates of heaven by fervent prayer," a line 
 that will probably remind my readers of that of another 
 author, who tells us that " Heaven is forced by violence 
 of song." But all minor faults are forgotten in the magnifi- 
 cent invocation and prayer with which the poem closes ; a 
 magnificence, however, which is again diminished when we 
 find Queen Anne once more dragged in, and presented to 
 the audience as the regent especially commissioned to 
 " bear the Almighty's sceptre o'er the north." Poor Anne ! 
 flattery must have been more fatal to her than Hollands ; 
 but she and her family had long been used to it. When 
 her step-mother gave somewhat premature birth to the son 
 of her father, James II., an Oxford man and poet, like 
 Young, rushed into exactly the sort of adulation that 
 c
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNQ, LL.D. 
 
 Young would have used, and perhaps had learned from 
 him. The courteous rhymer said, 
 
 " No tedious travail was for tliee design'd : 
 Why shouldst Ihou feel the curse that blessest all mankind ? " 
 
 The reason, I think, might be found in a book of old date, 
 had not this versificator regis, as marks the true son of 
 song, cared more for fiction than for truth. 
 
 In 1714 Young took the degree of B.C.L. ; the honour 
 of the year was made to pass for labour, and nothing in 
 addition illustrated the period, save his lines on the death 
 of the queen. All that the fashionable Mead could devise 
 failed to rescue great Anne from the common lot. Had 
 she died a few weeks earlier, the octogenarian Sophia, 
 electress of Hanover, and granddaughter of James I., would 
 have died queen of Great Britain, which was one of her 
 most cherished wishes. But, as the court-preacher said to 
 Louis XIV., we are "nearly all of us mortal;" and kings, 
 queens, and electresses do not form the exception. Sophia 
 died more suddenly than Anne; and Young lost thereby 
 the opportunity of indulging in a fine frenzy of antithesis. 
 As it was, he made, of his threnodia for the deceased queen, 
 a panegyric of the newly-enthroned king. Sorrow and con- 
 gratulation are admirably balanced. So are the respective 
 merits of the two sovereigns. Argyle and Marlborough 
 overcame the enemies of England in the field ; but the 
 "millions" so subdued owed their subjection to "Anna's 
 prayer." She is also celebrated as the mother of her peo- 
 ple, and something more than the mother of the church, on 
 which she showered welcome first-fruits and tenths. But 
 the encomium on the new monarch is even more extrava- 
 gant than that upon the old ; and, if Anne is commended 
 beyond her deserts, George is bepraised beyond all reason. 
 The new king had, of course, done nothing to warrant 
 eulogy ; but Young, in a prophetic fury, assured the nation 
 that it was triply blessed in such a king.
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 The year 1715 is unmarked by any production on the 
 part of our author. It was the year of the first rebellion ; 
 and the Muses, with whatever alacrity they may celebrate 
 war, are, in modern times, at least, wont to be mute while 
 the conflict is raging. 
 
 In the mean time, Young was busy and joyous at Oxford. 
 The University had lately been enriched by a bequest from 
 Colonel Codrington. The gallant soldier had left to the 
 students at All-Souls six thousand pounds' worth of books ; 
 and, when the foundation of the Codrington library was 
 laid, on the 20th of June, 1716, Young was selected to 
 write and deliver the Latin oration. It is a somewhat 
 inflated production, with a very swelling English dedica- 
 tion inscribed (on his publishing the address at the request 
 of the heir) to the ladies of the Codrington family. To 
 this production was confined all the literary labour of the 
 year 1716. At the end of the year, or early in that which 
 followed, we find him in the company of the young Mar- 
 quis of Wharton, who had previously broken the hearts 
 of his noble parents by his sudden and imprudent mar- 
 riage ; and with whom he proceeded to Ireland, or joined 
 the noble profligate in that portion of the royal dominions. 
 
 It was probably during this visit that Young and his 
 aristocratic friend encountered Swift. " I remember," says 
 the first-named, in his letter on "Original Composition" to 
 Kichardson, " as I and others were taking, with Swift, an 
 evening walk, about a mile out of Dublin, he stopped 
 short. We passed on ; but, perceiving he did not follow us, 
 I went back, and found him fixed as a statue, and earnestly 
 gazing upward at a noble elm, which, in its uppermost 
 branches, was much withered and decayed. Pointing at it, 
 he said, ' I shall be like that tree : I shall die at top ! ' " 
 
 From this period till 1719 we know little of Young's pro- 
 ceedings. It may have been during a portion of the time 
 between the visit to Ireland and the death of Wharton's son, 
 that Young resided in the family of the Marquis of Exeter as 
 c 2
 
 IIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 private tutor to Lord Burleigh. This is the more probable, 
 as, on the 24th of March, 1719, the duke granted Young an 
 annuity, (I do not find the amount specified,) out of consi- 
 deration, as Wharton himself says, that the public good is 
 advanced by the encouragement of learning and the polite 
 arts ; that his grace had derived pleasure from " Dr." 
 Young's attempts therein ; and that, for the love the duke 
 bore him, so was his bounty offered. Lord Exeter had pro- 
 mised Young an annuity of 100 per annum, if he would 
 continue tutor to Lord Burleigh ; but Young declined the 
 office at the solicitation of the duke, and on his grace's 
 assurance that he should be well provided for. As to the 
 duke's intimation in the bond, dated March, 1719, that he 
 had derived pleasure from "Dr." Young's attempts in 
 poetry, I do not see how that could well be ; for " Mr." 
 Young did not take his doctor's degree until the 10th 
 of June of that same year. The degree, however, may have 
 been assumed by anticipation, or by some academical usage 
 to us unknown. 
 
 It was a busy year with him. It is marked, in addition 
 to his having become Wharton's annuitant, by his Lines to 
 Tickell on the Death of Addison, by the Paraphrase on 
 Job, and by the completion and production of the tragedy 
 of Busiris, written, for the most part, in 1713. 
 
 Tickell and Young, in 1719, were still close friends. They 
 mutually communicated their verses to each other; and 
 now, in return for the " Royal Progress," Young addressed 
 to Tickell the lines on Addison that Tickell had approved. 
 
 The Paraphrase on Part of Job, that burning lecture 
 against vanity, is preceded by a dedication that is steeped 
 in vanity. It is addressed to Lord Chancellor Parker ; a 
 stranger, whom the writer praises for virtues of which he 
 knew nothing, and to whom he talks in praise of a retire- 
 ment from which lie would evidently be glad to escape. 
 Young became ashamed of the dedication ; but he always 
 entertained a highly favourable opinion of the fragmentary
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 poem. I think this poem betrays the author's growing 
 intercourse with the play-house and theatrical people. He 
 speaks in the very spirit of a stage-manager when he alludes 
 to having added a mountain, a comet, and the sun, besides 
 a peacock and a lion, to the properties already employed in 
 the scriptural drama. Nay, we recognise the very manner 
 of a modern manager when the author, magnificently scorn- 
 ing to ask the indulgence of the audience for his omissions, 
 additions, and transpositions, complacently addresses him- 
 self to the judicious, and confidently asks from them the 
 sanction of their applause. 
 
 Young's earliest tragedy, " Busiris," is written in a stilted 
 and inflated style, and bears all the marks of a juvenile pro- 
 duction. The plot of the piece is void of ingenuity ; but there 
 is little that is borrowed in it, save the haughty message sent 
 by Busiris to the Persian ambassador, which is the same as 
 that returned by the Ethiopian prince to Cambyses, in the 
 third book of Herodotus. Of the phrasing, and, indeed, 
 of the incidents, of this tragedy Fielding made excellent 
 fun in his mock tragedy of " Tom Thumb." The sovereigns 
 and courtiers of Egypt give little trouble to be converted 
 into Arthur and Dollabella, Noodle, Doodle, the great little 
 prince, and Huncamunca. The travestie is rich and 
 facile ; not least so in that passage mimicking the various 
 addresses to the sun, who is bid to rise no more, but hide 
 his face and put the world in mourning. On these Field- 
 ing remarks, that "the author of 'Busiris' is extremely 
 anxious to prevent the sun's blushing at any indecent 
 object; and, therefore, on all such occasions, he addresses 
 himself to the sun, and desires him to keep out of the 
 way." It was dedicated to the Duke of Newcastle, the 
 patron of Eusden, the laureat, "because the late instances 
 he had received of his grace's undeserved and uncommon 
 favour, in an affair of some consequence, foreign to the 
 theatre, had taken from him the privilege of choosing a 
 patron." If this favour consisted in rewarding Young for 
 c 3
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 writing for the court, the favour may have been undeserved, 
 but it was by no means uncommon. 
 
 In 1720, our author submitted no work of his own for 
 public approval ; but, in the following year, his tragedy 
 of the "Revenge" began slowly to secure the approval 
 which has never yet been questioned. 
 
 The success of this second tragedy was, however, by no 
 means equal to that of the first. It was only played six con- 
 secutive nights ; and Young received but 50 for it. To 
 Marlowe's "Lust's Dominion," and to Mrs. Behn's " Abdu- 
 lazar," Young is said to have been indebted for his plot- 
 In the thirty-seventh number, vol. L, of the " Guardian," the 
 author is stated to have been supplied with the materials 
 for his play in the following relation of a series of misfor- 
 tunes, which had then but recently happened in Spain. 
 " Don Alonzo, a Spanish nobleman, had a virtuous and 
 beautiful wife, with whom he had lived some years in great 
 tranquillity. He was not, however, free from the faults 
 usually imputed to his nation ; he was proud, suspicious, 
 and impetuous. He kept a Moor in his house, whom, at a 
 complaint from his lady, he had punished, for a small 
 offence, with the utmost severity. The slave vowed 
 revenge, and communicated his resolution to one of the 
 lady's women, with whom he had lived in a criminal way. 
 This creature, also, hated her mistress ; for she feared she 
 was observed by her. She therefore undertook to make 
 Alonzo jealous, by insinuating that the gardener was often 
 admitted to his lady in private, and promising to make 
 him an eye-witness of it. At a proper time, agreed on 
 between her and the Morisco, she sent a message to the 
 gardener, that his lady, having some hasty message to give 
 him, would have him come that moment to her in her 
 chamber. In the mean time, she placed Alonzo in a pri- 
 vate room that he might observe who passed that way. It 
 was not long before he saw the gardener appear. Alonzo 
 had not patience, but, following him into the apartment,
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 struck him, at one blow with a dagger, to the heart ; then, 
 dragging his unfortunate lady by the hair, without inquir- 
 ing farther, he instantly killed her. There he paused, . 
 looking on the dead bodies with all the agitation of a 
 demon of revenge ; when the girl who had occasioned these 
 terrors, distracted with remorse, threw herself at his feet, 
 and, in a voice of lamentation, without sense of the conse- 
 quences, repeated all her guilt. Alonzo was overwhelmed 
 with all the violent passions at one instant, and uttered the 
 broken voices and emotions of each of them, for a moment, 
 until, at last, he recollected himself enough to vent his 
 agony of love, anger, disdain, revenge, and remorse, by 
 murdering the maid, the Moor, and himself." 
 
 Young has not taken any great liberties with the 
 plot as he thus found it. Where he has done so, 
 the story is dignified and improved, save, perhaps, in 
 the closing lines of contrition uttered by the Moor. 
 Yet in no part of this play do I find, as one of Young's 
 biographers has said, that " the author is superior even to 
 Shakspeare." The machinery by which lago moves Othello 
 is quite as natural as any employed by Zanga to excite 
 Alonzo to murder his wife upon their nuptial night. 
 But, however this may be, it must be acknowledged 
 that the action of the tragedy never flags, that the 
 interest is well maintained, that the situations are highly 
 dramatic, and that the language is equal to the sub- 
 ject, expressive, and abounding in poetical beauty. 
 The epilogue was supplied by "a Friend," one of that 
 sort from whom men proverbially pray to be saved. It 
 is, from beginning to end, a mass of uncleanness, without 
 wit to render the dose less disgusting, or the poison less 
 deadly. The Duke of Wharton found a better friend in 
 Young himself, who dedicated the tragedy to his rou, but 
 liberal, patron. The dedication is a species of testimony 
 to character such as guilty persons sometimes receive from 
 their good-natured, but unscrupulous, friends. Young
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD TOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 assures his grace, that he leads a virtuous pastoral life, such 
 as your town-rakes know nothing of ; that he is given to 
 study, and that he is a perfect master of all history, as well 
 as of many languages ; that he is as well skilled in men as 
 in books, and that he " can carry from his studies such a life 
 into conversation that wine seems only an interruption to 
 wit ; " that he is, in fact, an Admirable Crichton, with 
 an excellence which that wonderful gentleman had not, 
 namely, " so sweet a disposition that no one ever wished 
 his abilities less, but such as nattered themselves with the 
 hope of shining when near him." The poet even makes 
 the peer his collaborateur in the piece, and acknowledges 
 that he not only " suggested the most beautiful incident, 
 but made all possible provision for the success of the 
 whole." Young had, at all events, reason for admiring 
 Wharton's style. The duke, in the month of March of this 
 year, 1721, had given him a bond for 600, for travelling 
 expenses incurred by Young on various occasions, and 
 particularly, it would seem, to meet the serious outlay 
 which the ambitious poet had made in standing as candi- 
 date for Cirencester, where he lost his election, and we, 
 unfortunately, the incidents of it. The bond of 1721 
 further expressed, in so many words, that it was partly 
 given in consideration of Young's not taking two livings, 
 of 200 and 400, in the gift of All Souls' College, on his 
 grace's promise of serving and advancing him in the world. 
 In those days a man with his qualifications and connexions 
 had no difficulty to encounter on presenting himself to a 
 bishop as a candidate for holy orders. But Young did not 
 avail himself of this privilege till seven years afterwards. 
 
 The tragedy of the " Revenge " still keeps the stage, 
 and modern poets have borrowed from it. Lord John 
 Russell, in his " Don Carlos," for instance, has taken from 
 it an incident which, however, he has spoiled, though I 
 have not space to show how. The incident itself is 
 comprised in the following passage, where reason is given
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 for the grovelling Cordoba's hatred of the Spanish 
 Prince : 
 
 " Don Carlos then was choleric ; lie struck 
 In some short fit of passion his attendant ; 
 Forgot it, and believed it was forgiven." 
 
 The elder Sheridan, who often acted the principal character 
 in the " Revenge," has been guilty of a singular mistake 
 connected with it. In the fourth of his " Lectures on Elo- 
 cution," that on emphasis, he says, " By means of emphasis 
 what passes in the mind is often shown in a few words, 
 which otherwise would require great circumlocution. Of 
 which take the following instance in the play of ' All for 
 Love : ' 
 
 ' The fault was mine 
 To place tliee there, where only thou couldst fail.' " 
 
 My readers will see, by turning to the play, that these 
 lines are not in " All for Love," but that they are in the 
 "Revenge." But inaccuracy of quotation on the part of 
 critics is nothing uncommon. Thus, Courtney Melmoth 
 reviewed the " Night Thoughts " with very critical acerbity 
 and general severity. He compared them with the poem 
 by Milton, and he undertook to show, what nobody 
 doubted, that Milton was the superior poet. He drew a 
 parallel, for this purpose, by comparing Young's picture 
 of Melancholy, which I need not repeat, with the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 " Sweetest Melancholy! 
 
 Welcome, with folded arms and eyes, 
 
 A sigh that piercing mortifies, 
 
 A tongue chain'd up without a sound, 
 
 A look that '& fasten'd to the ground," &c., &c. 
 
 which lines, whatever may be their merit, certainly prove 
 nothing with regard to the quality of Milton, inasmuch ar 
 they were written by Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 The year 1722 appears to have been partly spent at
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 Eastbury, in Dorsetshire, the seat of Mr. Dodington, after- 
 wards Lord Melcombe, where wit and Burgundy abounded, 
 and where he was much in the company of Voltaire, and 
 other wits. Voltaire on one occasion had severely criti- 
 cized Milton's allegorical description of Death and Sin, 
 because they were non-existents ; when Young uttered the 
 celebrated couplet : 
 
 " Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, 
 Thou seem'st a Milton with his Death and Sin." 
 
 Dr. Joseph Warton says, in reference to this interview : 
 " Nobody ever said more brilliant things in conversation, 
 than Dr. Young. The late Lord Melcombe informed me, 
 that when he and Voltaire were on a visit to his lordship 
 at Eastbury, the English poet was far superior to the 
 French, in the variety and novelty of his bon-mots and 
 repartees." But it has been well observed in favour of the 
 Frenchman, that he was trying to cope with his competitor 
 in English, with which he was then imperfectly acquainted. 
 
 Voltaire, says Spence, like the French in general, showed 
 the greatest complaisance outwardly, and had the greatest 
 contempt for us inwardly. He consulted Dr. Young about 
 his Essay in English, and begged him to correct any gross 
 faults which he might find in it. The Doctor gravely 
 commenced the task, and marked the passages which he 
 considered most liable to censure ; but when he went to 
 explain himself about them, Voltaire could not avoid 
 laughing in his face. 
 
 Young was also a frequent guest at Mr. Dodington's 
 house in Hammersmith. On one of his visits, as the poet 
 returned to the drawing-room, after contemplating a storm 
 of rain and wind in the garden, his host remarked that it 
 was a dreadful night : " No, sir," said the poet, " it is a 
 fine night : the Lord is abroad." 
 
 No production of Young's was offered to the public dur- 
 ing this and the two following years. The intermediate
 
 1IFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 period would seem to have been passed in preparation for 
 his Satires ; and while the poet participated in the gaieties 
 of the dissipated London world, he was something more than 
 a sharer in its frivolities. He walked amid the crowd " tak- 
 ing notes," which astonished, gladdened, or mortified, the 
 party-coloured public when they were printed. This sea- 
 son of mingled relaxation and study was further pleasantly 
 marked by the grant of a second annuity of 100 from 
 Wharton ; who was indefatigable in all his pursuits, whether 
 profligate or political. He wrote much, spoke much, and 
 spent much; the last in greater degree than the other 
 two put together. His once princely estate became so 
 embarrassed, that it fell into the still more destructive 
 guardianship of Chancery, and the duke was reduced to the 
 allowance of twelve hundred per annum, (paid him by 
 trustees,) and to his chances at the gambling table. Com- 
 panionship with a peer of such tainted loyalty was a 
 Btrange thing in Young, who was never weary of flinging 
 poetical incense in the eyes of all of Brunswick's line. He 
 probably was not sorry when Wharton went abroad, 
 although that event was followed by the duke's turning 
 Papist ; a convert of whom the Romish Church had about 
 as much reason to be proud as it had, according to Evelyn, 
 when it was joined by such disinterested personages as 
 Dryden and (according to report) Nell Gwynn. The new 
 follower of the pope, of course, became the zealous adherent 
 of the Pretender. It was a career which, doubtless, fur- 
 nished Young with many an illustration for his Lorenzo, 
 that half real and half imaginative character, for whose 
 especial benefit the poet would seem to have penned those 
 sad " Night Thoughts," which were not all meditated upon 
 by night, nor all written in sober sadness. 
 
 While Wharton was in exile abroad, Savage that way- 
 ward poet who would take no counsel, and reckless man 
 who could keep no friend was on his way, through dissi- 
 pation and murder, to Newgate. Young visited him in
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 his distress, as he did afterwards in his confinement, on 
 several occasions; and, as he was the dispenser of a vica- 
 rious consolation intrusted to him by others, he was probably 
 also at those times his own almoner. Spence says, " Mr. 
 Pope desired Dr. Young to forward five guineas to poor 
 Savage, when he was in Newgate for the death of Sinclair. 
 The doctor was so good as to carry it himself; and Mr. 
 Pope afterwards told him, that if Savage should be in want 
 of necessaries, he had five more ready for his service." 
 
 Savage was never ashamed of any of his faults or follies ; 
 but he was weak enough to blush at having made an 
 attempt to gain an honest livelihood by appearing as an 
 actor in his own play of " Sir Thomas Overbury." The 
 natural son of the Countess of Macclesfield thought it more 
 consistent with his dignity to live upon the alms of others, 
 while he abused the generosity whereby he lived, than to 
 stoop to maintain existence by any regular and honourable 
 labour. It was in one of his moments (and they were 
 continually recurring) of abject distress, that his wearied 
 friends once more appealed to the public charity in his 
 behalf. Lady Mary Wortley Montague listened to the 
 appeal, and transmitted to the clever, but heartless, roue 
 the pecuniary aid of which he stood in the most urgent 
 need. Young was the minister of her liberality. In a 
 letter, dated March 1st, 1725-26, he says : " I have seen 
 Mr. Savage, who is extremely sensible of the honour your 
 ladyship did him by me. You was, I find, too modest of 
 your opinion of the present you pleased to make him, if 
 Mr. Savage may be allowed to be a judge in the case. I 
 am obliged to go down to-morrow to Wycombe election, 
 which is on Thursday. As soon as I return, I will wait on 
 your ladyship, with the trifle you pleased to ask, which I 
 had done before, but I have been, and still am, in all the 
 uneasiness a cold can give." The bounty to Savage was 
 the purchase-price for his flattery ; and to his " Miscel- 
 laneous Poems," few of which were written by himself, he
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 prefixed a dedication to Lady Mary, wherein, after the 
 fashion of needy poets to exalted patrons, he be-praised her 
 in thia wise : " Since our country has been honoured with 
 the glory of your wit, as elevated and immortal as your 
 soul, it no longer remains a doubt whether your sex have 
 strength of mind in proportion to their sweetness. There 
 is something in your verses as distinguished as your air. 
 They are as strong as truth, as deep as reason, as clear as 
 innocence, and as smooth as beauty ; they contain a name- 
 less and peculiar mixture of force and grace, which is at 
 once so movingly serene, and so majestically lovely, that it 
 is too amiaole to appear anywhere but in your eyes and 
 writings." The Ispahanees are, of all the mendacious 
 Persians, the most given to mendacity ; and it is common 
 with them, when about to violate veracity with even more 
 than their usual unscrupulousness, to preface the premedi- 
 tated falsehood by asserting, " You may believe me ; for, 
 (hough a Persian, yet I am going to tell the truth." Tn 
 some such spirit, Savage added the following to the dedi- 
 cation which was paid for with the money sent by the 
 hands of Young : " As fortune is not more my enemy than 
 I am the enemy of flattery, I know not how I can forbear 
 this application of your ladyship, because there is scarce a 
 possibility that I should say more than I believe, when I 
 am speaking of your EXCELLENCE." 
 
 Between the years 1725 and 1727, Young wrote and 
 published his Satires. In the year 1726 he produced 
 the "Instalment," which procured for him his pension 
 from George I. ; and, in 1728, he wrote his " Ode to 
 Ocean," " An Ode to the King," and "A Discourse on Lyric 
 Poetry." Of these latter and less immortal (verbo venia 
 detur) productions, I will speak first. 
 
 The " Instalment," or Installation, as we should now call 
 
 it, was addressed to Walpole. Sir Robert had been the 
 
 patron of Young, and Young now became the pensioner 
 
 of the Court. The " Instalment " is but a bungling pro 
 
 d
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 duction, wherein ministers long deceased descend from 
 their celestial seats in heaven, powdered like beaux, and 
 purple- winged, like cherubs, to instal upon earth a states- 
 man, to whom Young says, 
 
 " O, how I long, enkindled by the theme, 
 In deep Eternity to launch thy name ! 
 
 and he adds : 
 
 " My breast, O Walpole, glows with grateful fire. 
 The streams of royal bounty, turn'd by thee, 
 Refresh th dry domains of poesy." 
 
 This may, perhaps, refer to the promise of a pension, which 
 now became a golden reality. The following is a copy of 
 the warrant for the payment of the annual royal bounty. 
 It IB in the Audit Office Enrolments, " M. p. 529," and 
 runs thus : 
 
 "GEORGE K. Our will and pleasure is, and we do 
 hereby direct and require, that an annual pension of Two 
 Hundred Pounds be established and paid by you from 
 Lady Day, 1725, unto Edward Young, Doctor of Laws, 
 during Our Pleasure, by quarterly payments, in such and 
 the like manner, &c., &c. 
 
 " Given at our Court at St. James's, the 3d day of May, 
 1726, in the 12th year of our reign. 
 
 " By His Majesty's Command, 
 
 "R. WALPOLE, 
 "WILL. YONGE, 
 " WM. STRICKLAND. 
 " To our trusty and well-beloved Walter Chetwynd, Esq." 
 
 Young thought well of his Odes ; but posterity will refuse 
 to endorse the sentiment. The " Ode to Ocean " was 
 suggested by a passage in the speech from the new king to 
 the Parliament, recommending the manning of the fleet by 
 voluntary enrolment, if that could be accomplished, and
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 pointing out how disabled sailors might be better provided 
 for than they had hitherto been. The author waited in 
 vain for all Parnassus to rush forth in praise ; but, finding 
 that Helicon was silent, Hippocrene unruffled, and Pegasus 
 unsummoned, he hastened to fulfil the duty : 
 
 "What! none aspire? 
 
 I snatch the lyre, 
 And plunge into the foaming wave ! " 
 
 Here the Nereids receive him with all their wonted 
 applause and too liberal hospitality, " They spread in air 
 their bosoms fair ; " while their verdant tresses, like the 
 tails of Nancy Lake's horses, hang down behind. It is 
 difficult to imagine that the author of the nervous Satires 
 could descend to such an inn-window contrast as that 
 described in the words, 
 
 " When all serene, 
 
 How tweet the scene ! 
 How dreadful when the billows roll ! " 
 
 There is more in the same style in this very long ode; 
 and when we get to the end of it, we are fully prepared 
 to exclaim, with the author, " This long enjoyment is 
 distress ! " 
 
 The " Ode to the King " is neither better nor worse than 
 that addressed to Ocean. The " Essay on Lyric Poetry " is 
 precisely on the same level ; its nymphs and poetesses of 
 old are all in hoops and sacks, like the nymphs of the Mall 
 of Young's own time. Nor do the author's subsequent 
 attempts at the ode increase our admiration for him, or for 
 his work. In the " Sea Piece," dedicated to Voltaire, we 
 have the following queer image, 
 
 " But where 't his dolphin ? Know'st thou where ? 
 May that be found in thee, Voltaire ! " 
 
 a wish for which the philosopher would hardly be grateful 
 
 to the poet. The complacency of the latter is remarkable 
 
 d 2
 
 Xl LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 in the passage wherein he bids the sons of Etna, charmed 
 by the magic of his song, in which there is no sorcery, to 
 " drop the feign'd thunder, and attempt the true." The 
 recipe for making real thunder for the use of Britain, and 
 the terror of her enemies, the author proceeds to communi- 
 cate to the sooty and attending Cyclopes. The ingredients 
 for the concoction are flight, flame, night, terror, northern 
 roars, groans, and death ; add to these a phial full " of 
 wrong'd Britannia's wrath," and there is your thunder 
 splendid, guaranteed as genuine, and warranted to disagree 
 with the Gauls ! Of the author's remaining ode, " The 
 British Sailor's Prayer before Engagement," I will only 
 say, that even the naval chaplains of that day, who, like 
 Fielding's Newgate Ordinary, " patronized punch, the rather 
 that it was a liquor not spoken against in scripture," were 
 strangers to all petitions framed in similar style and spirit. 
 
 But from these laborious triflings of mistaken genius, let 
 us turn to those productions which proclaim the master, 
 and confer on him immortality. The Satires will live for 
 ever, because, in description, they are true reflexes of the 
 times, and in sentiment applicable to all other ages ; 
 individual in allusion, yet general of application. 
 
 They were written by one whose true vocation, strange 
 as it may seem, was satire. I question if the stupendous 
 flattery of his dedications be not themselves pure satire. 
 Young could write little without betraying this natural 
 inclination of his mind and powers. Even his deathless 
 " Night Thoughts," devoted to meditations upon the grave, 
 and judgment, and life beyond, commence with a pointed 
 epigram levelled at the selfishness of the world. And what 
 a world it was in which he was now living ! and how 
 heartily he could lash the vices of all excepting his 
 patrons ! The third Satire is dedicated to Bubb Dod ing- 
 ton : and, of course, thereby is implied that the clever 
 Bubb was a stranger to the offences upon which the author 
 pours the full shower of his wrath and wit. Such, how-
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, 1L.D. ill 
 
 ever, was not the case. Bubb Dodington, with Lord Le 
 Despenser, Lord Sandwich, and others, was one of the 
 " Franciscans of Medmenham Abbey," a Buckinghamshire 
 club, whose orgies surpassed in costly iniquity any 
 thing ever known in the metropolis. And yet the 
 metropolitan iniquity hardly admitted of being excelled. 
 The streets were perilous for peaceable citizens, against 
 whose coming drunken beaux, under disordered periwigs, 
 lay in wait, like Bedouins for a caravan. Young's own 
 physician, mentioned with grateful adjunct, more than 
 once, in his poems, the illustrious Mead, was drawn into 
 this fashion of mutual murder, and fought with his fellow- 
 physician, Woodward, beneath the portal of Gresham 
 College. As the latter slipped and fell, the chivalric Mead 
 lowered his sword, and exclaimed, " Take your life, and 
 begone !" " TJmph ! " said Woodward, rising with a growl, 
 " as long as I have not to take your physic ! " The mere 
 slaying of watchmen and chairmen at this period was 
 looked upon as the pardonable frolic of gentlemen who 
 could not be bound by any imperative and impertinent 
 canon levelled against murder. The clubs betray in their 
 names the natures of the men who were members of them. 
 The " Bold Bucks " adopted the fashion of the old literary 
 academies, or clubs of reviewers, in Italy, of Tasso's time, 
 and flourished under a device. Their motto was, " Blind 
 and Bold Love ; " and beneath it they committed hideous 
 atrocities, at thought of which the grossest nature being 
 still human might shudder in mingled terror and disgust 
 No man could become a Bold Buck who did not make pro- 
 fession of atheism. 
 
 While Young was engaged on his Satires, amid such 
 inspiration as he could draw from male society like that 
 just described, and from female society that was often not 
 far behind in crime, a royal proclamation had, not long 
 previously, been issued against the " rakehelly clubs," as 
 they were designated, and against the wearing of swords. 
 d 3
 
 Xlii LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 The sentence against Savage, for killing Sinclair in a 
 drunken midnight broil, at a coffee-house, near Charing 
 Cross, was, perhaps, the consequence of the violation, on his 
 part, of the proclamation, and was directed less against him 
 as an actual offender, than as an example to deter against 
 all future offence. What royalty found so difficult to accom- 
 plish in the metropolis, the despotic Beau Nash, who also 
 administered to Savage's necessities, achieved without any 
 difficulty whatever, in his own peculiar kingdom at Bath. 
 He suppressed swords at once by a decree, in which they 
 were stigmatised as "marks of uncivilization." I need not 
 remind the readers of Thucydides, that, some thousands 
 of years ago, the citizens of Greece abandoned the wearing 
 of the sword for similar reasons, namely, that it was 
 unworthy of polished and civilized society. 
 
 In the Satires of Young we find a picture-gallery of his 
 contemporaries, wherein the portraits are not all, indeed, 
 of equal merit, nor equally true ; but where all are, at 
 least, striking, and well drawn. In those under the head 
 of " Love of Fame," how dashingly he etches the fop affect- 
 ing the polite disease with which he is not afflicted ; Delia 
 refusing an offer, " though her loved lord has four half- 
 months been dead ;" the lordling who "stands for fame on 
 his forefathers' feet ; " and Belus, who " in cost and gran- 
 deur will outdo Chandos ! " - that Chandos whose descend- 
 ant, in our own day, learned so little through the lesson 
 afforded him by his ancestor's ruin, and who is a living 
 example of the pithy saying, that "experience, like the 
 stern-lights of a ship, only illumines the track we have 
 crossed." 
 
 The allusion to him who builds himself a name, by rear- 
 ing a magnificent pile, and, when all is perfection, 
 
 " Lo ! my lord to gome small corner runs, 
 And leaves state-rooms to strangers and to duns," 
 
 is by no means a mere random allusion. The Earl of 
 Egmont was then building himself just such a vast and
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 majestically-comfortless mansion. His lordship opened it, 
 in 1728, with a masked ball, which was graced by the 
 attendance of the Prince of Wales. There was an immense 
 crush, and the most splendid misery ; but, amid it all, the 
 host was wanting. He had, in fact, left his countess to 
 receive the company, on the plea that he himself detested 
 masquerades. The court talked of it, with many a com- 
 ment ; and the conclusion was, that the earl was a vulgar 
 country squire, mean enough to go to bed with the lamb 
 and to get up with the lark. This very sort of squire is 
 aptly depicted in the same Satire. 
 
 In the second we find the picture of the florist, who sees 
 no use whatever in teeming earth and vernal skies, except 
 it be to help to grow what then was most in fashion, the 
 gaudy tulip. The mere lovers of merely fine books come 
 no better off than the senseless worshippers of scentless 
 flowers. The author strikes unsparingly the man whose 
 " Epictetus is a perfect beau," and who cares less for the 
 jewel than for the casket. Not more sparingly does he 
 assail the perfumed fop, conscious of his "learned heels," 
 and the sloven, whose vestments are " valued like leopards', 
 as their spots appear." The definition of wit, in this Satire, 
 shows how thoroughly Young understood it and its uses. 
 The similes are close and sparkling; and, if in wit they 
 abound, so also do they not lack ingenuity. 
 
 The third Satire resumes the attack on the critics wlrch 
 had been begun in the first. The shallow members of that 
 class were never more sorely mauled. But the indignation 
 of the author is not confined to these pretenders alone. 
 Others come in for their just share ; such as those who 
 affect familiarity with lords whom they do not know, or 
 who pretend to be dying for beauties they have never seen, 
 who accept the parentage of foul libels, who welcome the 
 fame of living uncleanly, who, pretending to be absent, 
 " take a memorandum to forget," and who find sweetness in 
 Italian music simply because it is dear:
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD TOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 " Their tastes would lessen if the prices fell, 
 And Shakspeare's wretched ttuff do quite as well." 
 
 The fourth Satire, too, is most wittily severe upon real and 
 affected infidels; as it is against those fashionable idler* 
 who "do nothing" with the most unimpeachable grace. 
 This series of poems indicates familiarity with a wide circle 
 of " life," great power of observation, and, with a few excep- 
 tions, equal power of tersely expressing what has been observed. 
 I do not like, indeed, the author's conclusion that, among 
 the advantages attendant upon "a writer in polite letters," 
 may be reckoned the admission his calling gives him to the 
 society of his superiors ; for it is putting his vocation on an 
 entirely false basis. Indisputable, however, is his other 
 dictum, that " a fool at forty is a fool indeed ! " None had 
 better reason for saying so than he; for he largely inter- 
 mingled with the world, saw much, and shared in some, 
 of its folly, and was ashamed of it, when, in after years, 
 he talked over the matter at quiet Welwyn. 
 
 It was probably at this period of his life that an incident 
 happened which has been often told, but which will bear 
 re-telling. Dr. Young was escorting a party of ladies to 
 Vauxhall. The gay company were in a boat ; and the doc- 
 tor was doing his happy best to amuse them by playing on 
 the flute. He ceased for a moment, as a boat passed them 
 full of officers. One of the latter peremptorily bade him 
 pipe on ; and, as high words arose, and the ladies became 
 alarmed, the flutist, to allay their pretty fears, resumed his 
 strain, while the officers gently dipped their oars, and 
 laughed along in company. The doctor, however, was a 
 man of spirit, and took the revenge that a man might 
 justifiably take upon a fop. After he had seen his fair 
 friends landed in the Gardens and comfortably attended, he 
 slipped away, sought out the constrainer of his unwilling 
 melody, and, after reminding him that he had compelled a 
 stranger to play the flute against that stranger's will, told 
 him that he must now, upon peril of flagellation, dance a
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. xlv 
 
 measure, in order to gratify the player. After some demur, 
 the saltatory amende was paid ; and Dr. Young, at least, 
 left the ground perfectly " satisfied." 
 
 The Satires which appeared at intervals, subsequently to 
 those above-named, were especially devoted to " Women," 
 although published under the general heading of "The 
 Universal Passion ; or, the Love of Fame." This series 
 of portraits may be said to be even more perfect than those 
 which we have before inspected. There is Clarinda, look- 
 ing delightfully with all her might; Zara, who deceives 
 mankind and hides behind her face ; while that fearful 
 Xantippe expresses her discontent, by day, by smashing 
 her china, and intimates it by night, when she " shakes the 
 curtains with her kind advice." Delia, the charioteer, 
 belongs to the past century : 
 
 " Graceful as John, she moderates the reins, 
 And whistles sweet her diuretic strains." 
 
 But we have a lady not exclusively appertaining to the last, 
 nor characteristic, we will hope, of any, century, yet perhaps 
 to be found in all, in that young Sempronia, whose fidelity 
 to her youthful lover only lasts till, 
 
 "With one acre more, 
 In steps deform'd, debauch'd, diseased three-score." 
 
 Among the crowd that pass before our vision, there come 
 pre-eminently out that fine and delicate lady who cannot 
 stand by day, but who can dance all night ; Cynthia, who 
 goes with the fashionable owls to bed ; and Fulvia, (rather 
 out of drawing,) to whom 
 
 " Green fields, and shady groves, and crystal springs, 
 And larks, and nightingales, are odious things." 
 
 Added to these, as exhibiting marks of truth in themselves, 
 and merit in their painter, I may point out the married 
 pair of wits, who live three days in peace, and divorce 
 themselves upon a quarrel touching Durfey's poetry and 
 Bunyan's prose ; Phoebe, living upon the memory of yester-
 
 IIFE OP EI>WARD YOUNG, 1L.D. 
 
 day's, and the anticipation of to-morrow's, pleasure, but 
 who, in the mean time, is miserable to-day ; Flavia, the 
 importunate, who breaks her heart when Strephon coldly 
 slumbers ; the young ladies who prefer astronomy to love ; 
 others who are nothing if they are not blasphemingly reli- 
 gious, who clear up sacred mysteries gratis, and who even 
 thank their Maker that their cards are good. These are all 
 admirably drawn. Not inferior to them is the dashing 
 Liberia, who loves a rake. There are, too, that deliciously 
 languid lady, who may still be found in every parish, and 
 who is quite unequal to the task of supporting herself; 
 that audacious Thalestris, who dares to name what nature 
 dares to give, for whom " By Jove ! " is far too Heathen an 
 oath, and who, accordingly, " upon the Christian system is 
 profane ; " and Lyce, the old coquette, who 
 
 " Carries in her face 
 Memento mori to each public place." 
 
 The more pleasing Portia charmingly illustrates the truth- 
 ful sentiment, that even grey hairs can engage, and that 
 " virtue 's the paint that can with wrinkles shine." We 
 are introduced to a continued series in the sixth Satire, a 
 series as varied, distinct, truthful, and suggestive. First, 
 Lavinia, "to church an constant as to Drury-Lane," a 
 sketch for which I think Lady Wortley Montague may 
 have sat, seeing, as she says, in a letter to the Count- 
 ess of Bute, that " I confess I remember to have dressed 
 for St. James's chapel with the same thoughts that your 
 daughters will have at the Opera." The Lavinias and Lady 
 Marys of the day, at church, would 
 
 " Talk away 
 
 To God Himself, and fondly think they pray. 
 But sweet their accent, and their air refined ; 
 For they 're before their Maker and mankind." 
 
 In Drusa, too, there is something of the Lady M. W. 
 Montague :
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 " When from the sheets her lovely form she lifts, 
 She begs you just would turn you while she shifts ; " 
 
 an example of delicacy which was not at all uncommon in 
 the days of Drusa and her original. 
 
 The whole series of Satires is epigrammatic in style, and 
 the Satires on Women more so than the others of the series. 
 As an example, I may quote Lucia, in whom one folly is 
 thus summarily disposed of : 
 
 " Lucia thinks happiness consists in state : 
 She weds an idiot, but she eats in plate." 
 
 The Melania, never pleased, and the Aspasia, ever proud ; 
 the always-planning Julia, who 
 
 " For her own breakfast will project a scheme, 
 Nor take her tea without a stratagem ; " 
 
 Syrena, who " with a vengeance doth commend or blame ;" 
 Brunetta, (the favourite of Johnson,) " who scorns on trifles 
 to bestow her care ; " Alice, the female sloven ; Isabella, 
 fond of fame; and Cleora, for whose perfections we are 
 bidden to inquire at the Bank ; are all treated with epi- 
 grammatic point. But Young could paint as graphically 
 as he could point epigrammatically. Thus the following 
 lines, descriptive of Memmia, would not be unworthy of the 
 author of the " Rape of the Lock : " 
 
 "Her two red lips affected zephyrs blow, 
 To cool the Bohea, and inflame the beau ; 
 While one white finger and a thumb conspire 
 To lift the cup, and make the world admire." 
 
 Swift said of these Satires that they should have been 
 either more angry or more merry. To me, if I may so say, 
 and with deference, they appear to contain a sufficiency 
 both of mirth and indignation. Young himself declared, 
 in his preface, that the best way to cure the follies and 
 vices of the day was by laughing at them ; a course which 
 he did not adopt in the " Night Thoughts," though, even 
 there, I can detect him constantly on the point of breaking
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 from wrath into ridicule, of changing from Heraclitua to 
 Democritus, and of laying down the mask of Jean qui 
 pleure, to assume that of Jean qui rit. Mirthful as he is 
 in his Satires, he is angry enough when he calls on Juvenal 
 for his severer rage, 
 
 "To lash the ranker follies of our age : " 
 
 and this rage falls witheringly, in the last Satire, on the 
 gamestresses, the adulteresses, the female drunkards, and 
 the she-atheists. The scourge is especially inflicted 
 unsparingly on the latter, " who start at feathers from an 
 insect fly," and who are "a match for nothing but the 
 Deity." But folly is immortal ; and Satire may scotch the 
 snake, but cannot kill it. Thus, when a godless nymph ia 
 made to ask, 
 
 "Shall pleasures of a short duration chain 
 A lady's soul in everlasting pain ? " 
 
 and when nymphs and swains of St. James's and the Mall 
 devoutly depose Jehovah, 
 
 " The Pure, the Just ; and set up, in His stead, 
 A deity that *s perfectly well-bred," 
 
 we find that the infidelity of the last century is of the same 
 complexion as the unbelief of this ; and that Mr. Frank 
 N ewman, in his " Phases of Faith," simply advances in 
 prose what Young's atheists have already asserted in verse. 
 Young thought he had cured all such sentiment as this, by 
 laughing at it : but, of course, he had not even remedied 
 the follies, much less the greater vices, of the day. The 
 dress of the ladies, for instance, was as ridiculous in 1778, 
 as it had been half a century before, in 1728. " About ten 
 days ago," says Horace Walpole, writing in the year 1778, 
 "I wanted a housemaid, and one presented herself very 
 well recommended. I said, ' But, young woman, why do 
 you leave your present place V She said she could not sup- 
 port the hours she kept ; that her lady never went to bed 
 till three or four o'clock in the morning. ' Bless me,
 
 UFE OP EDWARD TOI7NO, LL.D. 
 
 child,' said I, ' why you tell me you live with a bishop's 
 wife ; and I never heard that Mrs. North gamed or raked 
 so late.' ' No, sir,' said she ; ' but she is three hours 
 undressing.' Upon my word, the edifice that takes three 
 hours to demolish, must, at least, be double the time in 
 fabricating. Would not you, for once, sit up till morning 
 to see the destruction of the pyramid and distribution 
 of the materials 1" Thus absurd fashions survived not only 
 the Satires of Young, but the subsequent Satires of Pope. 
 Even the terrible portraiture of the effects of gambling 
 made by the former had no effect upon the prevalence 
 of that fatal pursuit. But Young himself was something 
 of a gamester. His dedications were throws for fortune ; 
 and, when he was successful, he boasted of it in compli- 
 ment, as he does at the close of the sixth Satire, in equivocal 
 flattery to Queen Caroline : 
 
 " Her favour is diffused to that degree, 
 Excess of goodness ! it has dawn'd on me ; " 
 
 which, certainly, is as much as saying that in his case it 
 had been misapplied. 
 
 But flattery had attained its acm6, when in 1726 Young 
 added a seventh Satire, and inscribed it to Sir Robert 
 Walpole. Its theme is essentially political, yet it contains 
 some good reflections on " the Love of Fame and its cause," 
 commencing with this adulatory couplet : 
 
 " On this last labour, this my closing strain, 
 Smile, Walpole ! or the Nine inspire in vain." 
 
 Its closing stanzas are in the same lavish strain : 
 
 " What felt thy Walpole, pilot of the realm ? 
 Our Palimmis slept not at the helm : 
 His eye ne'er closed, long since inured to wake, 
 And out- watch every star for Brunswick's sake. 
 But, now, what joys that gloom of heart dispel, 
 No powers of language but his own can tell ; 
 His own, which nature and the graces form, 
 At will to raise or hush the civil storm." 
 
 e
 
 1 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 In Goldsmith's time these Satires had fallen below their 
 originally great reputation. They merit, however, com. 
 plete restoration to public favour. In spite of some uncouth 
 rhymes and awkward phrases, they contain lines of great 
 elegance, wit sparkling and rapid, ease of expression, indis- 
 putable common sense, and an endless good-nature, even 
 when the scourge is being most lustily applied. The 
 publication of the Satires brought much both of profit and 
 fame to their author. Spence tells us, " A little after Dr. 
 Young had published his 'Universal Passion,' the Duke 
 of Wharton made him a present of two thousand pounds for 
 it. When one of the duke's friends, who was surprised at 
 the largeness of the present, cried out on hearing it, 
 'What! two thousand pounds for a poem?' the duke 
 smiled, and said it was the best bargain he ever made in 
 his life, for it was fairly worth four thousand." 
 
 Croft, who relates this anecdote, on the authority of Mr- 
 Kawlinson, adds: "By 'the Universal Passion' Young 
 acquired no vulgar fortune, more than three thousand 
 pounds. A considerable sum of his previous savings had 
 already been swallowed up in the South Sea. For this he 
 took the vengeance of an author : his Muse makes poetical 
 use, more than once, of a South-Sea dream." 
 
 Three years after the appearance of the last Satire, there 
 was published, in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for Febru- 
 ary, 1731, a little poem, entitled " The Session of the Poets 
 for 1730 :" at this session Dulness is supposed to preside 
 for the purpose of choosing a laureate. From the following 
 lines in it we may conclude that Young's contemporaries 
 did not consider that his Satires lacked severity of spirit : 
 
 "With torches, flambeaux, and abundance of fire, 
 Young entered the hall, but was bid to retire. 
 She confess'd that his plays might pass for good things ; 
 But his Satire too much abounded with stings." 
 
 We are now approaching the period when Young, at the 
 mature age of forty-seven, received ordination. He had
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 11 
 
 previously been engaged in his tragedy of " The Brothers," 
 in the composition of which he appears to have been 
 assisted by suggestions on the part of Lady Wortley Mon- 
 tague. Writing to that celebrated lady, he says, " A great 
 cold and a little intemperance has (sic) given me such a 
 face as I am ashamed to show, though I much want to talk 
 with your ladyship ; for my theatrical measures are broken. 
 'Mariamne' brought its author above 1,500; 'The Cap- 
 tives,' above 1,000 ; and ' Edwin,' now in rehearsal, has 
 already, before acting, brought its author above 1,000. 
 Mine, when acted, will not more than pay for the paper on 
 which it is written. I will wait on your ladyship, and 
 explain farther. Only this at present : For the reason men- 
 tioned, I am determined to suppress my play, for this season 
 at least. The concern you showed for its success is my 
 apology for this account, which were otherwise very imper- 
 tinent." And again : " The more I think of your criti- 
 cisms, the more I feel the just force of them. I will alter 
 those which are alterable : those which are not, I beg you 
 to make a secret of, and to make an experiment on the 
 sagacity of the town, which, I think, may possibly overlook 
 what you have observed ; for the players, and Mr. Doding- 
 ton, (neither of whom were backward in finding fault, or 
 careless in attention,) took no notice of the flaw in Deme- 
 trius's honour or Erixene's conduct ; and I would fain have 
 
 their blindness continue till my business is done Your 
 
 alteration in the fourth act will be of exceeding advantage 
 
 in more views than one But that I am satisfied you 
 
 want no inducement to assist me as much as you can, I 
 should add. that I had more depending on the success of 
 this particular piece than your ladyship imagines." 
 
 What Young might have had " depending on the success" 
 of his play, is not now known : he, at all events, suppressed 
 it, not only for the current season, but did not give it to the 
 stage till thirty years afterwards. The especial reason hinted 
 at in the above correspondence was his entering the church, 
 e 2
 
 Ill LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, 1L.D. 
 
 During his particular studies for ordination, Pope is said, 
 half in jest, to have recommended him to master, if pos- 
 sible, the difficulties of Thomas Aquinas ; and Young 
 addressed himself so seriously to the hopeless work, as to 
 put in peril the existence of that common-sense which Pope 
 was already too disposed to deny in him. It is more certain, 
 that, shortly after his entering the church, he was appointed 
 chaplain to George II., and preached before the king in the 
 chapel royal at St. James's. This locality had not much 
 of a sacred character in it. Burnet had been obliged to 
 introduce the fashion of high-backed pews, in order 
 to check the indecorous conduct of irreverent ensigns and 
 frivolous maids of honour. The queen herself thought little 
 of interrupting the solemnity of the service by her loud 
 talking ; while the king would sometimes show contempt 
 as profound for the worship in which he was NOT engaged, 
 by falling asleep! Young found his powers of oratory 
 treated with a similar disregard; and when, on looking 
 around him, at the end of a polished phrase, he observed 
 sovereign and subjects surrendered to uncourteous slumber, 
 the ruffled dignity of the susceptible new chaplain sustained 
 a shock which manifested itself by his bursting into tears. 
 
 The philosophy he lacked for himself, he now undertook 
 to teach others ; and he " improved," as it would now be 
 called, the death of his royal master, in 1728, by producing 
 the first part of a didactic prose work, entitled, " A true 
 Estimate of Human Life." He dedicated it to the queen, 
 and promised a second part ; but the promise was not kept ; 
 and the " true estimate," a sort of prose poem, or sermon 
 constantly on the point of running into blank verse, and 
 written with equal force and affectation, was never brought 
 to a conclusion. It abounds in melancholy, though he had 
 promised to give the bright side of humanity in it. It is 
 reported of him, that, on being asked why he had not 
 kept his promise, he confessed that he was unable to find 
 a bright side to life. " I know of but one solid pleasure
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOFNQ, LL.D. liii 
 
 in life," he says in his " True Estimate," " and that is 
 duty." 
 
 On the 30th of January, 1728-9, he preached before the 
 House of Commons, on the martyrdom of Charles I. He 
 published his discourse, under the title of "An Apology for 
 Princes; or, the Reverence due to Government." The 
 preacher told the House quite as many useful truths as it 
 had ever listened to in the days of John Owen and Stephen 
 Marshall. The sermon attacked the sins of the age with 
 courageous and eloquent boldness. When Sydney Smith 
 preached on the same subject at Bristol cathedral, he drew 
 from the event then commemorating a moral and a warning 
 for princes. Young addressed his moral and monition to 
 the people ; but his application was generally made ; and in 
 "the people" he contemplated the nation, from the throne 
 to the cottage. Whatever vices there prevailed, he attacked 
 them mercilessly ; and before the senate he spoke as unre- 
 servedly of the common sins to which all were abandoned, 
 as Sydney Smith himself had done, when, in his farewell- 
 sermon at Berkeley chapel, he took leave of a very fashion- 
 able and very frivolous congregation with the startling text 
 of, " Thou shalt not commit adultery." 
 
 In the year 1730 our author appeared once more, with 
 indifferent success, in a very indifferent lyric, entitled, 
 Imperium Pelagi, written in celebration of the return 
 of George II. from Hanover, and of the peace which excited 
 no little discussion in the public mind. It is an inflated 
 production ; but its good author fondly thought that Pindar 
 might have envied him the honour of such a piece. 
 
 In 1730 appeared the "Epistles to Pope." They are 
 serious compositions, rich in virtuous indignation against 
 vicious authors, " the black militia of the pen," and such as 
 a chaplain might write who had an eye upon preferment. 
 The author had said, not long before, in one of his more 
 jocund satires, " Smile, Walpole, or the muse inspires in 
 vain ; " he now disregarded the inspiration of the statesman, 
 e 3
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 without having obtained that of the muse. " Pope, I 
 burst ! " and, " Kun souse against his chaps ! " are phrases 
 that would have drawn tears from the Euphuists ; and some 
 of the rhymes would have been any thing but exquisite 
 torture to that fine-spoken society. For a poet, ever seeking 
 a patron ; for a pensioner, looking for increase of income ; 
 and for a clergyman, who was sharply inquiring after pre- 
 ferment, there is more than an usual display of independ- 
 ence in these poems. His Clodio, in the first epistle, is 
 partly a reminiscence of the Duke of Wharton; but the 
 line, " Even George's praise is dated from the Mint," may 
 have had other application than that visible on the surface. 
 Much that is addressed by the author to the writers of the 
 age, is equally applicable to himself, although he deems his 
 greater power called upon to chastise them. He, too, when 
 disposed to lash vice in high places, could be tamed by the 
 bags of a state Ulysses ; and, although he was now in the 
 vein to say, that " Christian ministers of state are few," he, 
 too, or would he have so held fellowship with Wharton 
 who fed, or showered praise on Walpole who fee-ed, him ] 
 troubled himself little whether such peer or minister of 
 state were " Turk, Pagan, or Jew." He was as far from 
 being serious when he said, " 'T is arrant simony to sing 
 for gold," as he was when he penned the maxim in the 
 same epistle, implying that " it shows a generous mind to 
 wink at flaws;" and he who professed to give in song a 
 praise unpurchaseable by gold, sang for a pension. 
 
 If Young wrote these epistles to show his fitness for pre- 
 ferment, he did not fail in his object. He had hitherto 
 lived upon his fellowship, his annuity, his royal pension, 
 and the proceeds of his pen. In July, 1730, he was ren- 
 dered more independent by being presented, on the part 
 of his college, to the living of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire. 
 He was then in his fiftieth year ; and the three hundred 
 pounds per annum, with other perquisites attached to the 
 rectory, which fell to him, gave him security, although they
 
 LIFE OF EDWAKD YOUNO, LL.D. Iv 
 
 could not altogether communicate content. About this 
 period, he wrote the following letter (undated) to Mrs. 
 Howard, the king's mistress : 
 
 " MADAM, Monday Morning. 
 
 " I KNOW His Majesty's goodness to his servants, and 
 his love of justice in general, so well, that I am confident, 
 if His Majesty knew my case, I should not have any cause 
 to despair of his gracious favour to me. Abilities, good 
 manners, service, age, want, sufferings, and zeal for His 
 Majesty, these, Madam, are the proper points of consider- 
 ation in the person that humbly hopes His Majesty's 
 favour. As to abilities, all I can presume to say is, I have 
 done the best I could to improve them. As to good 
 manners, I desire no favour, if any just objection lies 
 against them. As for service, I have been near seven years 
 in His Majesty's, and never omitted any duty in it ; which 
 few can say. As for age, I am turned of fifty. As for 
 want, I have no manner of preferment. As for sufferings, 
 I have lost 300 per annum, by being in His Majesty's 
 service; as I have shown in a representation which His 
 Majesty has been so good as to read and consider. As for 
 zeal, I have written nothing without showing my duty to 
 their Majesties, and some pieces are dedicated to them. 
 This, Madam, is the short and true state of my case. They 
 that make their court to the ministers, and not to their 
 Majesties, succeed better. If my case deserves some consi- 
 deration, and you can serve me in it, I humbly hope and 
 believe you will. I shall, therefore, trouble you no fur- 
 ther ; but beg leave to subscribe myself, with truest respect 
 and gratitude, 
 
 " Yours, &c., 
 
 "EDWARD YOUNO. 
 
 " P.S. I have some hope that my Lord Townshend is 
 my friend; if therefore soon, and before he leaves the 
 Court, you had an opportunity of mentioning me, with that
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD TOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 favour you have been so good to show, I think it would not 
 fail of success ; and, if not, I shall owe you more thau 
 any." 
 
 It is difficult to fix the date of this letter, and even its 
 object has been diversely stated. It has been considered, 
 by some, as an application to George II. for a continuation 
 of the pension granted him by George I. But the writer 
 speaks of having been seven years in the king's service ; 
 and his pension could only have been in temporary peril at 
 the accession, in 1728, when he was but forty-seven years 
 of age. He may have meant seven years in the royal 
 service, that is, a writer in support of government; and 
 that he was suspected of being as early as 1724. This 
 would bring the date of the letter to 1731, in which year 
 he had " turned of fifty," and, according to one at least 
 of his biographers, was presented to Welwyn. It may have 
 been just previous to this presentation that the writer who 
 sneers at people " making court to the ministers," proffered 
 respect and promised gratitude to the mistress ! If we 
 date this letter seven years after the king's accession, 
 namely, 1735, there would be no truth in the writer's 
 assertion that he had " no manner of preferment." As to 
 the allusion to the loss of 300 per annum, it is supposed 
 to refer to some college-living which Young might have 
 taken, had he gone up earlier for ordination. Welwyn sup- 
 plied him with exactly that sum, which he is thus said to 
 have sacrificed. 
 
 In May, 1731, or, according to Croft, in April, 1732, 
 Young married the Lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of the 
 Earl of Lichfield, and widow of Colonel Lee. The first 
 wife of the Duke of Wharton's father was Lady Anne 
 Wharton, formerly Miss Lee, of Ditchley, and a friend 
 of Young's father. Lady " Betty," as the widow of Colonel 
 Lee is sometimes called, was equally the friend of Young 
 himself; and when they married, friendship only made the
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. Mi 
 
 union which love afterwards briefly, but bountifully, 
 blessed. 
 
 When Flaxman married Anne Denman, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds peevishly told the former that he was ruined for 
 an artist. The old bachelor proved but a sorry prophet. 
 Marriage, however, for the time, did mar Young as a poet ; 
 and, during a happy union of ten years' continuance, he pro- 
 duced but two pieces ; one, the " Sea Piece," dedicated to 
 Voltaire ; the other, in 1734, " The Foreign Address, or 
 the best Argument for Peace," a long and wearying ode, in 
 which he takes as long and wearying a farewell of the 
 " shell which Clio gave, and kings applaud," never again 
 to torture the patience of the public with parodies upon 
 Pindar. 
 
 In the mean time, he kept in graceful retirement at 
 Welwyn. His household lived by rule ; prayer opened and 
 closed each passing day ; comfort was united with elegance ; 
 and much polished courtesy was there, with something 
 approaching to parsimony. The spirit of gravity influenced 
 him ; but he was not indifferent to that of gaiety. In his 
 garden he placed a sun-dial, with the inscription, Eheu, 
 fugaces ! The thieves proved the soundness of the maxim, 
 as he observed laughingly, by carrying off the dial soon 
 after he had put it up. Here, also, he erected an arbour, 
 with a painting which only looked like the seat that it 
 was not, and which bore the admonitory or compensating 
 motto, Invisibilia non decipiunt ; while he founded the 
 "assembly" at Welwyn, and laid out the bowling-green, 
 where men, and maidens too, might practise at bowls. 
 
 He was once walking in his garden at Welwyn, with 
 Lady Betty and another lady on either side of him, when a 
 servant summoned him into the house, where a gentleman 
 was waiting to see him. The poet showed little inclination 
 to go ; whereon the ladies insisted, and led him, each taking 
 a hand, to his garden-gate. As he turned from them, he is 
 said to have made the following impromptu :
 
 Ivili LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 " Tims Adam look'd, when from the garden driven ; 
 And thus disputed orders sent from Heaven. 
 Like him I go, and yet to go am loath ; 
 Like him I go, for angels drove us both. 
 Hard was his fate, but mine still more unkind : 
 Hit Eve went with him ; but mine stays behind." 
 
 Once when riding across a rugged and dirty country to 
 visit his friend Dr. Potter, the eldest son of the Arch- 
 bishop, Young had experienced both difficulty and danger 
 in getting over the last part of his journey : " Whose 
 field was that I crossed]" said the poet to his host, point- 
 ing to a peculiarly heavy and ill-drained piece of ground. 
 " Mine," said Potter. " Good," rejoined Young : "it is truly 
 Potter's field to bury strangers in." 
 
 We discover much truth in his views of worldly enjoy- 
 ments, as expressed, with the authority of a Christian 
 philosopher, in a letter to his friend Richardson : " Since 
 the things of this life from their mixture, repetition, 
 defectiveness, and (in age) short duration are unable to 
 satisfy, we must aid their natural by a moral pleasure. 
 We must season them with a spice of religion, to make 
 them more palatable. We must consider, that it is God's 
 will that we should be content and pleased with them : 
 and thus the thinness of the natural pleasure, by our sense 
 of joining an obedience to Heaven to it, will become much 
 more substantial and satisfactory." 
 
 He occasionally left Welwyn, to drink the Bath waters, 
 and mingle with the Bath company ; but he had faith in 
 the efficacy of the Welwyn waters too : in fact, he was a 
 little given to the making and taking of nostrums, believ- 
 ing profoundly in the sovereign virtue of tar-water, and 
 recommending Richardson, with much earnestness, to make 
 the same from " Norway tar, of a deep brown, and pretty 
 thin." At Bulstrode, the seat of the Duke of Portland, he 
 was a frequent and welcome visitor. He was there accounted 
 a man of wisdom, integrity, benevolence, and candour,
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD TOTOQ, LL.D. 
 
 utterly unacquainted with intrigue or cabal, lively of ima- 
 gination, sparkling of conversation, witty himself, and the 
 cause of wit in others. 
 
 The happy home of Young at Welwyn was made tem- 
 porarily glad, in 1733, by the birth of a son, to whom 
 was given the name of Frederick, in honour of the Prince 
 of Wales, who was his god-father; but it was too soon 
 saddened by deaths which made his hearth desolate. His 
 wife had a daughter, of her first marriage. This daugh- 
 ter, whom Young "wore in his heart," was married to 
 the Honourable Mr. Temple, son of Lord Palmerston, 
 She had been but fifteen months married when she was 
 attacked by consumption ; Young accompanied her on her 
 way to Nice, where it was hoped the course of the disease 
 might be checked ; but the young bride fell a victim to it 
 at Lyons, ere she had reached the proposed end of her jour- 
 ney. She was interred, with " maimed rites," in unconse- 
 crated ground, bigotry refusing her a more honoured grave. 
 Her husband subsequently married the daughter of Sir 
 John Barnard ; but he, too, died in 1740 ; and, in the suc- 
 ceeding year, he was followed by Lady Elizabeth Young. 
 Thus were taken from the poet the Narcissa, the Philander, 
 and the Lucia, of his " Night Thoughts." It was partly to 
 console himself for their loss that, at threescore years 
 of age, and something beyond, he addressed himself to the 
 composition of the great work on which his reputation 
 mainly rests. The characters here named, however, are 
 not strict copies of their loved originals. Young gave 
 scope to his mournful fancy, and, in character as well as 
 chronology, he kept no closer to truth than he was bound 
 to do by the elastic and liberal laws of poetry. Narcissa 
 is, no doubt, the pale reflection of his daughter-in-law ; but 
 not more so than Lorenzo is the " counterfeit present- 
 ment " of Wharton. 
 
 The "Night Thoughts" appeared between the years 
 174] and 1745; and they at once earned for the author
 
 IX LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 that imperishable fame which he so earnestly desired.* The 
 perusal of them influenced the genius of Klopstock ; and the 
 Rev. Charles Wesley was wont to say, that no writings were 
 so useful to him, the holy scriptures excepted. Whatever 
 they may have taught the English poet, they did not teach 
 him mercy. " I allow you a month longer," he says, in a 
 letter to his daughter " Sally," " to get the fourth Night 
 by heart." A hard task for a young lady ! 
 
 To a man who had run through such a career as the 
 Duke of Wharton's, how applicable are most of the lines in 
 the " Night Thoughts " which have reference to Lorenzo ! 
 For example : 
 
 "Lorenzo, Fortune makes her court to thee : 
 Thy fond heart dances while the syren sings." 
 
 " Not more sincere can be 
 Lorenzo's smile than my compassion for him." 
 
 " Lorenzo, while thou may'st, 
 Provide more fair support, or sink for ever." 
 
 " Lorenzo, thou canst wake at midnight too, 
 
 Though not on morals bent 
 
 Thou, to whom midnight is immoral noon, 
 And the sun's noontide blaze prime dawn of day ! 
 In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt 
 Twixt stage and stage of riot and cabal." 
 
 " Thou art no novice in theology," is perhaps an allusion to 
 his alleged reasons for perversion. 
 
 " Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
 Truths which, contested, put thy parts to shame." 
 
 * There is a German translation of great merit. Colardeau translated 
 the first book into French rhymed verse. Letourneur put the whole into 
 French blank verse, which Chateaubriand says is superior to the ori- 
 ginal ! With few merits, this translation continues to be a popular work. 
 Grimm, who always maintained that Young reverenced Voltaire, cri- 
 ticised ' ' The Twenty-four Nights of Edward Young ! " A good speci- 
 men of the critic's correctness !
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. Ill 
 
 " Instinct and passions of the nobler kind 
 Lie suffocated there." 
 
 " Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon." 
 
 " When I behold a genius bright and base, 
 Of towering talents and terrestrial aims, 
 Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
 The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
 With rubbish mixt, and glittering in the dust" 
 
 " Why with levities 
 Now wing thy short, short day's too rapid flight ? " 
 
 These are but samples from a mass whence full and over- 
 flowing measure may be gathered ; and I submit that, 
 for whomsoever they were intended, their application to 
 Wharton is most natural and warrantable. The reader is 
 referred to the text for many other passages equally appro- 
 priate to Wharton's career and to Young's experience of it. 
 
 To return to the "Night Thoughts." Although some 
 have called its sublimity "fustian," and its melancholy 
 artificial, its combinations grotesque, its phraseology in- 
 volved, and its reasoning sometimes confused, it stands, 
 on the whole, as a monument of the inexhaustible wit 
 (in the proper sense of the word) and genius of the 
 author. Its moral was expressly directed against that of 
 Pope in the " Essay on Man," wherein the world was 
 taught to be content with the present, without troubling 
 itself about the hereafter. A great portion of Pope's 
 poem consists merely of a versified translation of Pascal's 
 Thoughts and Maxims ; but the sentiments of Young are, 
 with but one or two exceptions, entirely original. Too many 
 of the similes are drawn from the play-house and the stage ; 
 from the actors, dressed and undressed : even Death himself, 
 on one occasion, appears as a door-keeper. These betray some- 
 thing of Young's pursuits ; and they certainly too often 
 detract from the grandeur of a sentiment wherein the poet 
 most desired to be successful. The references to his own 
 f
 
 LIFE OF EUWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 personal discomforts, too, are hardly consistent with the 
 general scope of his theme : 
 
 "From short (as usual) and disturb'd repose, 
 I wake." 
 
 " Dark, though not blind, like thee, Maeonides : " 
 
 They paint the poet in an attitude in which he wished 
 posterity to look upon him : but they serve to mar his poem. 
 Pope acknowledged, in rhyme, his obligation to Arbuthnot ; 
 Young may, therefore, be excused for helping to immortalize 
 Mead. Let us only hope that the poets paid their phy- 
 sicians in solid gold as well as golden verse. 
 
 There is scarcely a page in the mournful theme of the 
 " Night Thoughts " that does not exhibit the author's 
 powers and bent for satire. This has been objected to, and, 
 perhaps, unfairly. With greater show of reason has excep- 
 tion been taken to the arguments respecting solitude : the 
 sum of all shows as much against as for indulgence in soli- 
 tude. A careful examination of the different passages, 
 however, will show that the author has only taken a poet's 
 licence to say, in wide and varied terms, what Dryden has 
 expressed in brief and nervous prose : " Such only can 
 enjoy the country who are capable of thinking when they 
 are there : then they are prepared for solitude, and, in that, 
 solitude is prepared for them." 
 
 The majestic melancholy that reigns throughout this 
 poem is, however, too often interrupted by trivial, satirical, 
 or sarcastic passages, to admit of our belief that the author 
 was much in love with the sadness he commends. We 
 have little faith in his sincere admiration for entire soli- 
 tude, when we find him turning away from its eulogy, in 
 order to shower down thick and ungraceful praise upon 
 the Duchess of Portland, who had been figuring as the 
 Moon at a fancy-ball given by a duke. We do not, indeed, 
 doubt his love for his step-daughter, although there is some 
 ground for suspicion even on this head, when we find
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. IxiU 
 
 him mingling Narcissa's mournful strain with Norfolk's 
 masquerade. 
 
 It is a fact, however, that Young made melancholy 
 " modish." Young gentlemen could, like Prince Arthur, 
 become sad as night, out of mere wantonness. His poem is 
 said to have induced physicians to prohibit delicate patients 
 from perusing it. Beattie, writing to the Duchess of Gor- 
 don, trusts that her grace will not think of reading so dull 
 a book as Young's " Night Thoughts." The grave gentle- 
 man gallantly protests that the lady is far too bright for 
 such sad themes ; that the author only intoxicates people, 
 and that intoxication of any sort is prejudicial to health. 
 He asserts, moreover, that the poet was himself too wise to 
 be sad, and that, when he commended mournful meditation, 
 he was himself as gay as it was his wont to be. " Believe 
 me," he adds, 
 
 " Believe me, the shepherd but feigns ; 
 He 'a wretched, to show he has wit." 
 
 There is, no doubt, some truth in this. 
 
 Although Young occasionally wrote by night, he has 
 himself told us that some of his praise of the nocturnal 
 hour was penned in the broad sunlight of open day. But, 
 even if his eulogy of late hours for thought were sincere, I 
 should still dispute its being well-founded. He says, 
 indeed, 
 
 ** Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend. 
 
 The conscious Moon, through every distant age, 
 
 Has held a lamp to Wisdom, and let fall 
 
 On Contemplation's eye a purging ray. 
 
 Auspicious Midnight, hail ! " 
 
 This is finely expressed ; but it would have been as easy to 
 write in praise of the day, and the panegyric would have 
 been better merited. The moon can hold a lamp to mis- 
 chief as well as to wisdom ; and he who watches overmuch 
 by night will be the less fitted to work in man's and 
 nature's hour by day. In much of Young's praise of night 
 f 2
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 there is involved a species of religious feeling that is akin 
 to Quietism ; as if salvation were to be won by thinking, 
 and virtue consisted in sleeplessness. I am more disposed 
 to accept the sentiments in the "Last Day," wherein he 
 says, 
 
 " None are supinely good ; through care, and pain, 
 And various arts, the steep ascent we gain. 
 This is the scene of combat, not of rest : 
 Man's is laborious happiness at best. 
 On this side death his dangers never cease ; 
 His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace." 
 
 No doubt of it. Happiness conies by labour; and, if 
 thought helps to accomplish it, half an hour of contempla- 
 tion, in presence of God's calm morning sky and the rising 
 sun, is worth a whole winter of long nights spent in medita- 
 tion with the moon. 
 
 They who would see how Night may be made hideous, as 
 easily as Young has made it attractive, should read Nahum 
 Tate's translation of Fracastorius, wherein he paints 
 " Night's foulest birth and terror of mankind." It is not 
 every poet, however, who can fittingly celebrate the dawn ; 
 Yalden, for instance, praises Morning with the yawning air 
 of a man who has been up all night, and is longing for bed. 
 Young's praise of Night, at least, wears the air of sincerity, 
 although it may be unsound in itself, and more pleasant 
 to read than safe to follow. 
 
 In the " Night Thoughts " will be found no inconsider- 
 able helps towards completing a portrait of the poet. 
 There are passages scattered here and there which have 
 especial reference to his social position, and which, much as 
 he inculcates grateful content, show that he had little gra- 
 tification, and less satisfaction, in being left without higher 
 preferment than the rectory at Welwyn. But these pas- 
 sages are minor blemishes, and do not mar the grand argu- 
 ment which he sustains for immortality, and the noble 
 endeavours which he makes to render men more worthy
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. IxV 
 
 of their high destiny. His religious teaching is complete, 
 ardent, truthful, sincere, and unanswerable ; and fully 
 proves, as he himself says, that 
 
 "Important truths, in spite of verse, may please." 
 
 Notwithstanding the imperfections, and, in some sense, 
 the incompleteness, of this poem, it has in it the spirit 
 which will keep it immortal. They who contemplate the 
 figure of the Apollo Belvidere, unconsciously assume the 
 erectness of the statue at which they gaze but to admire ; 
 and yet the godlike archer lacks his arrow and his bow ; 
 So with regard to Young's great poem, though some attri- 
 butes of poetry be now and then missing, though something 
 be occasionally wanting to make up perfection, yet the 
 perusal of it will impart to us a portion of the Divine spirit 
 which it presents to the mind's eye, and enable us not only 
 to comprehend the majesty that is before us, but also to 
 supply that which is only suggested. 
 
 The poem had no sooner been completed than the satir- 
 ists fell upon it with eager alacrity. A sample of the man- 
 ner in which the mimics fastened upon it, will show, even 
 better than criticism, the prominent faults with which it 
 was partially disfigured. The peculiarities of the author 
 were thus amusingly imitated by William Whitehead, son 
 of a baker at Cambridge, and sometime poet-laureat. The 
 lines exist in manuscript in the British Museum ; and their 
 circulation is said to have excited, or rather added to, the 
 already ample wrath of the bruising Churchill. 
 
 " O Night, dark Night, wrapp'd round in Stygian gloom, 
 Thy riding-hood opaque, wove by the hands 
 Of Clotho and of Atropos J those hands 
 That spun my thread of life ! how near its end ! 
 Ah, wherefore, silent goddess, shouldst thou wake 
 My terrors thus ? E'en Silence sounds alarms 
 To me ; and Darkness dazzles my weak mind. 
 Hark ! 't is the death-watch ! Posts themselves can speak 
 Death's language. Stop, O stop, insatiable worm! 
 I fuel thy summons. To my fellow-worms 
 f 3
 
 LIFE OF EDWAKD YOUNG, LX.D. 
 
 Thou bidd'at me hasten. I obey thy call. 
 
 And wherefore should I live ? Vain Life to me 
 
 Is but a tatter'd garment, a pitch'd rag, 
 
 That ill defends me from the cold of age. 
 
 Cramp'd are my faculties, my eyes are dim. 
 
 No music charms my ear, nor meats my taste. 
 
 The females fly me! and my very wife, 
 
 Poor woman ! knows me not ..... 
 
 Ye fluttering, idle vanities of life, 
 
 Where are ye flown ? The birds, that used to sing 
 
 Amid my spreading branches, now forsake 
 
 The lifeless trunk, and find no shelter there. 
 
 What 's Life, what 's Death, thus coveted and fear'd ? 
 
 Life is a fleeting shadow ! Death 'a no more ! 
 
 Death's a dark lantern ; Life's a candle's end 
 
 Stuck on a save-all, soon to end in stench. 
 
 Fob ! Death 's a jakea, and Life 's the alley green * 
 
 That leads to 't, where, perchance, from either side, 
 
 A sweet-briar bedge, or shrubs of broader leaf, 
 
 And more commodious, breathe their treacherous sweets. 
 
 Deatli follows Life, and stops it ere it reach 
 
 The topmost spoke of Fortune's envied wheel. 
 
 Wheel ! Life 'a a wheel ; and each man is the ass 
 
 That turns it, oft receiving, in the end, 
 
 But water or rank thistles for his pains. 
 
 "And yet, LORENZO, if consider'd right, 
 A Life of Labour is a Life of Ease. 
 Pain is true Joy, and Want is Luxury. 
 Vain Mirth 's an opera-tune, a tortured sigh, 
 Groans moderated by the Tyrant's Bull, 
 The breath of Eunuchs : it dismembers bliss, 
 Makes man not man, and castrates real joy ! 
 Would you be merry ? seek some charnel-house 
 Where Death inhabits. Give a ball to Death, 
 A doomsday-ball, and lead up Holbein's dance. 
 How weak, how strong, how gentle, how severe, 
 Are Laughter's chains, that gall a willing world ! 
 The noisy idiot shakes her bells at all : 
 Not e'en the Bible or the ' Night Thoughts ' 'scape. 
 Fools spare not Heaven itself, O Young, nor thee ! " 
 
 * " Man's heart is in a Jakes, and loves the mire." NIGHT ix.
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 In these lines we find a felicitous imitation of the 
 manner in which Young could hunt a simile to death, 
 of his violent antitheses, and of his mixture of the sublime 
 with the ridiculous. There is scarcely a line in them the 
 types of which my readers will not find in the poem which 
 they so cleverly caricature. 
 
 There was one other imitator of Young, however, 
 whose mimicry of the original ringing of the changes is, 
 perhaps, even more happy than that of Whitehead. I 
 allude to Kidgell, the author of "The Card." In that 
 work, Young, under the pseudonym of Dr. Elwes, is 
 represented as running away from Montreuil, in company 
 with a Madame Valence, who subsequently robs her 
 reverend lover, and elopes with sharper Trench ; whereupon 
 the poet thus writes : 
 
 " Valence, inconstant, lovely, fair eloper, 
 Yet why inconstant ? for inconstancy 
 Is but the absence of the constant mind. 
 And can the constant mind inconstant be ? 
 As well may the great wheel of heavenly light 
 Be motionless ; as well the fixed stars 
 Twirl in their orbs eccentric. O Valence, 
 Thou still art lovely then ! Alas ! but why ? 
 Loveliness is the art of being loved ; 
 And being loved, the sign of loveliness. 
 If lovely, then beloved ; if not beloved, 
 Not lovely : lovely not, as if one said, 
 Beloved not. Word of horrid emphasis ! 
 Valence, and not beloved, is not Valence. 
 
 " By reflecting much 
 We oft reflect too little. ...... 
 
 Fair fugitive, and fugitive as fair, 
 And fair as fugitive ! implored, return, 
 And be the thing you seem. Alas, alas ! 
 My very mistress knows me not ! " 
 
 In 1745 he wrote a kind of supplement to the " Ninth 
 Night," under the title of "Reflections on the Public 
 Situation of the Kingdom," and dedicated it to the Duke
 
 Ixviii LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 of Newcastle. But his " Reflections " on that stirring and 
 critical year do not appear to have marred the poet's repose, 
 or to have interfered with his enjoyments. In a letter to 
 Richardson, of that year's date, we do indeed find him 
 remarking, that " evils fly so near and thick about us, that 
 I am half persuaded that we should aim at little more than 
 negative good here, and positive in another scene." This 
 accords with his " Reflections " on the season. He passed a 
 portion of that eventful time at Tunbridge Wells ; and Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Montagu has drawn two or three clever sketches 
 of him that are worth reproducing. In 1745 the Wells 
 were frequented by a motley crowd of English, Irish, and 
 Scotch ; Hungarians, Italians, French, and Portuguese ; 
 Jews, Papists, Puritans, and Presbyterians; fine ladies, 
 poets, and players. As representatives of the latter were 
 Mrs. E. Montagu, Dr. Young, and Colley Gibber. "I 
 have great joy in Dr. Young," (says that learned lady, 
 writing to the Duchess of Portland, the Cynthia of the 
 Third Night,) "whom I disturbed in a reverie. At first 
 he started, then bowed, then fell back into a surprise ; 
 then began a speech, relapsed into his astonishment two or 
 three times, forgot what he had been saying ; began a new 
 subject, and so went on. I told him your grace desired he 
 would write longer letters ; to which he cried ' Ha ! ' most 
 emphatically, and I leave you to interpret what it meant. 
 He has made a friendship with one person here, whom I 
 believe you would not imagine to have been made for his 
 bosom friend. You would, perhaps, suppose it was a 
 bishop, or dean, a prebend, a pious preacher, a clergyman 
 of exemplary life ; or, if a layman, of most virtuous con- 
 versation, one that had paraphrased St. Matthew, or wrote 
 
 comments on St. Paul You would not guess that this 
 
 associate of the doctor's was old Gibber! Certainly, in 
 their religious, moral, and civil character, there is no 
 relation ; but in their dramatic capacity there is some." 
 Mrs. Montagu was not aware that Gibber, whom Young
 
 LIFE OP EDAVAKD YOUNG, LL.D. xx 
 
 had named not disparagingly in his Satires, was the 
 brother of his old school-fellow ; but to return to our hero. 
 " The waters," says Mrs. Montagu, " have raised his spirits 
 to a fine pitch, as your grace will imagine, when I tell you 
 how sublime an answer he made to a very vulgar question. 
 I asked him how long he stayed at the Wells : he said, 
 As long as my rival stayed ; as long as the sun did." 
 Among the visitors at the Wells were Lady Sunderland, 
 (wife of Sir Eobert Sutton,) and her sister, Mrs. Tichborne. 
 " He did an admirable thing to Lady Sunderland : on her 
 mentioning Sir Robert Sutton, he asked her where Sir 
 Robert's lady was ; on which we all laughed very heartily, 
 and I brought him off, half ashamed, to my lodgings, 
 where, during breakfast, he assured me he had asked after 
 Lady Sunderland, because he had a great honour for her ; 
 and that, having a respect for her sister, he designed to 
 have inquired after her, if we had not put it out of his 
 head by laughing at him. You must know, Mrs. Tichborne 
 sat next to Lady Sunderland. It would have been admira- 
 ble to have had him finish his compliment in that manner." 
 Young was much courted by the ladies at Tunbridge, 
 and no little jealousy was excited among Les Femmes 
 Savantes for the possession of one who was better worth 
 having than Trissotin or Vadius. " His expressions," says 
 Mrs. Montagu, " all bear the stamp of novelty, and his 
 thoughts of sterling sense. He practises a kind of philo- 
 sophical abstinence He carried Mrs. Rolt and myself to 
 
 Tonbridge, five miles from hence, where we were to see 
 
 some fine old ruins First, rode the doctor on a tall 
 
 steed, decently caparisoned in dark grey; next, ambled 
 Mrs. Rolt on a hackney horse ; then followed your hum- 
 ble servant on a milk-white palfrey. I rode on in safety, 
 and at leisure to observe the company, especially the two 
 figures that brought up the rear. The first was my ser- 
 vant, valiantly armed with two uncharged pistols ; the last 
 was the doctor's man, whose uncombed hair so resembled
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 the mane of the horse he rode, one could not help imagin- 
 ing they were of kin, and wishing, for the honour of the 
 family, that they had had one comb betwixt them. On his 
 head was a velvet cap, much resembling a black saucepan, 
 and on his side hung a little basket. At last we arrived at 
 the King's Head, where the loyalty of the doctor induced 
 him to alight ; and then, knight-errant-like, he took his 
 damsels from off their palfreys, and courteously handed us 
 into the inn." After seeing the lions, and visiting the 
 " parson," who was in canonical dishabille, to wit, " a grey- 
 striped calamanco night-gown, a wig that once was white, 
 but, by the influence of an uncertain climate, turned to a 
 pale orange, a brown hat, encompassed by a black hat-band, 
 a band somewhat dirty, that decently retired under the 
 shadow of his chin, and a pair of grey stockings well 
 mended with blue worsted," the party returned to the 
 Wells ; and " the silver Cynthia held up her lamp in the 
 heavens" the while. "The night silenced all but our 
 divine doctor, who sometimes uttered things fit to be 
 spoken in a season when all nature seems to be hushed and 
 hearkening. I followed, gathering wisdom as I went, till I 
 found, by my horse's stumbling, that I was in a bad road, 
 and that the blind was leading the blind. So I placed my 
 servant between the doctor and myself ; which he not per- 
 ceiving, went on in a most philosophical strain, to the 
 great admiration of my poor clown of a servant, who, not 
 being wrought up to any pitch of enthusiasm, nor making 
 any answer to all the fine things he heard, the doctor, won- 
 dering I was dumb, and grieving I was so stupid, looked 
 round and declared his surprise." 
 
 Spence furnishes us with additional testimony of Young's 
 simplicity and absence of mind, by narrating how he once 
 dined with Pope off a broiled blade-bone of mutton, which 
 he enjoyed so much that he inquired the name of the 
 dish, and the method of its cooking, in order that he 
 might introduce the novelty into his own household.
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 The poets of the day were not celebrated for their exten- 
 sively practical information. I think it is Horace Walpole 
 who tells how three of the great sons of song, on passing a 
 growing crop, disputed as to whether it was wheat, oats, or 
 barley ; and, on referring to an unlettered clown who was 
 grinning at their elbow, found it was rye. So is there a 
 story of Rousseau, who was, in the summer of 1768, 
 botanizing near Grenoble, in company with a lawyer named 
 Bovier. As the friends stood still for a moment, Jean 
 Jacques began plucking some berries from a shrub, and 
 eating. Bovier, knowing them to be poisonous, gazed on 
 the botanist with a respectfully-silent horror. Some other 
 friends coming up, exclaimed that the fruit was deadly; 
 whereupon the irascible philosopher became wrathful, as 
 was his wont, and forthwith published to the world that 
 society had entered into a conspiracy against him, and had 
 attempted to poison him by means of these mortal berries. 
 In the absence of mind, or the ignorance, here displayed, 
 there is something that reminds us of Young. The latter 
 was essentially an absent man. It will be remembered how 
 once, writing to Tonson and Lintot, he misdirected both 
 letters ; and how the latter, receiving the letter intended 
 for Tonson, found Lintot described in it as a dishonest 
 knave with whom no author would willingly have dealings. 
 " He is an absent man, you know," says Richardson, writing 
 of Young in 1754. " He 4s another uncontrollable, there- 
 fore unaccountable. He has been in town, somewhere 
 behind the Royal Exchange, for three weeks, without let- 
 ting me know a syllable of the matter till the very day 
 that, ready-booted, he called in Salisbury-court, leaving 
 word I was out that he was very desirous of seeing me at 
 Welwyn. He is an absent man, you know." 
 
 In reference to his artless manners Croft observes : " Of 
 Edward Young an anecdote which wanders among readers 
 is not true, that he was Fielding's Parson Adams. The 
 original of that famous painting was William Young, who
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 was a clergyman : he supported an uncomfortable existence 
 by translating for the booksellers from the Greek ; and, if 
 he did not seem to be his own friend, was at least no man's 
 enemy. Yet the facility with which this report has gained 
 belief in the world, argues, were it not sufficiently known, 
 that the author of the ' Night Thoughts ' bore some resem- 
 blance to Adams." 
 
 When Young, in 1754, produced his " Centaur not 
 Fabulous," Walpole said of it, " Dr. Young has published 
 a new book, on purpose, he says himself, of telling a story 
 he has known these forty years. Mr. Addison sent for the 
 young Lord Warwick, as he was dying, to show in what 
 peace a Christian could die." Walpole added a story of 
 Addison, which, if true, would have disgraced the memory 
 of the great essayist ; but the falseness of which has been 
 demonstrated by Miss Aikin in her Life of Addison. The 
 Altamont of the " Centaur " has nothing in common with the 
 Altamont of the " Night Thoughts." The original of the 
 former was George, Earl of Euston, son of the Duke of 
 Grafton. He married, in 1741, the fair Dorothy Boyle, and 
 murdered her, by his brutality, the year after. He ill-used 
 her on the day after their wedding. He turned her mother 
 out of his house ; and, when her father challenged him 
 in consequence, he would gladly have killed him in a duel 
 if he could, but mutual friends prevented the meeting. 
 Dorothea was gentle of temper, her beauty was irresistible, 
 her fortune large. There is a portrait of her at Chiswick, 
 on which is the following inscription : " Lady Dorothy 
 Boyle, born May 14th, 1724. She was the comfort and joy 
 of her parents, the delight of all who knew her angelic tem- 
 per, and the admiration of all who saw her beauty. She 
 was married October 10th, 1741, and delivered by death 
 from misery, May 2d, 1742. This picture was drawn, seven 
 years after her death, (from memory,) by her most affec- 
 tionate mother, Dorothy Burlington." 
 
 The " Centaur," in which Altamont plays so conspicuous
 
 LIFE OF EDWAKD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 a part, sparkles with wit ; and in every phrase there is an 
 echo of wisdom. We are surprised, however, to find that 
 the didactic author could write such a dedication as the one 
 originally prefixed to this work, and addressed to Lady 
 - . It abounds in figures of lascivious centaurs and 
 salacious nymphs; there are laughing references to the 
 intrigues of married gods, with allusions to ancient mytho- 
 logy and to the prevailing manners of his own times, in 
 which the shamelessness of the latter is demonstrated in 
 the easy and outspoken freedom with which they are com- 
 pared with the former. We may not be less vicious in our 
 generation ; but we are wiser in censuring vice without 
 entering into details. As to the " Centaur," if we can 
 overlook the occasional offences against good taste, the 
 faults of a time which saw no fault in them, we shall find 
 both profit and pleasure in perusing the brilliant wisdom 
 with attention. It is " morals made easy" for the especial 
 advantage of an immoral public. It passed through many 
 editions, and was generally regarded as one of the most 
 effective scourges applied to the crying vices of that licen- 
 tious age. But the author is his own best apologist : " The 
 mixture of levity with solemnity in these Letters makes 
 you apprehensive of its exposing the writer to censure or 
 ridicule. Yet how is it possible to write on so dreadfully- 
 mixed a subject as the ways of man, without being agitated 
 by the most contradictory emotions! His follies, fantas- 
 tically wrong, so ludicrously absurd ! his capacities for 
 virtue and happiness so noble ! his vices so shocking, their 
 consequence so deplorable ! So earnestly desirous I am 
 of waking him from that dream, in which he nods on the 
 brink of eternal ruin, that if nothing can do it but my own 
 disgrace, (my own buffoonery, as perhaps he will think it,) 
 I rejoice to fall so low. If he will but laugh (with me) at 
 himself, he is freely welcome to laugh at me as much as he 
 sees cause. It is not his applause, but his welfare, that is 
 sought. Amendment is the point in view. Would you, my 
 g
 
 1XX1V LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 friend, judge aright of men ] Ask not WHAT they have done, 
 but WHY ; or their characters will be still in the dark." 
 
 If we apply this rule of judging to Young himself, and 
 ask the reason of an action in which he was engaged about 
 this time, the best reply which we can obtain is that which 
 was given by one of his biographers : " He perhaps 
 thought the occasion might sanctify the means ; and, not 
 thinking so unfavourably of the stage as other good men 
 have done, he committed the monstrous absurdity of giving 
 the proceeds of a play for the propagation of the gospel ! " 
 That tragedy of " The Brothers " which he had written 
 some thirty years before, he then withdrew, under the 
 apprehension that it might stand in the way of his clerical 
 preferment ; but, now that he was likely to be left at 
 Welwyn without farther promotion, he surrendered it to 
 the players. He was immediately immersed in the very 
 thickest of theatrical squabbles, to the disgrace of his 
 clerical profession. George Anne Bellamy, that capri- 
 cious beauty on whom the delighted town showered for- 
 tune, who rode one day in gilded chariots, and the next 
 was lying on the lowest of the steps at Westminster-bridge, 
 wrapped in misery and contemplating suicide, the irre- 
 sistible Bellamy was then the idol of the world of fashion ; 
 and Young readily acceded to her request that she might 
 read " The Brothers" to the players. The request rendered 
 Garrick furious, although it was grounded on the young 
 lady's personal knowledge of the author. The green-room 
 was in an uproar. Roscius claimed the principal part for 
 Mrs. Pritchard; and, when "George Anne" poutingly 
 offered to surrender the character assigned her by the doctor, 
 Young vehemently opposed it with an emphatic " No, no ! " 
 Miss Bellamy accordingly read the piece, and assumed 
 the liberty of criticizing it. She expressly objected to the 
 line, " I will speak to you in thunder," as not being in a 
 concatenation with the delicacy that was to be expected 
 from the fine lady who utters it. The reverend author pro-
 
 LIFE OP EDWAKD YOUNG, LL.D. IxXV 
 
 tested that it was the most forcible line in the piece ; but 
 Miss Bellamy thought it would be more so if it were 
 improved by the introduction of '' lightning" as well as 
 thunder. The good doctor was something nettled at the 
 lady's wit; and he declared that "The Brothers" was the 
 best piece he had ever written. " I am afraid, doctor," 
 rejoined the lady, pertly, "that you will do with me as the 
 archbishop of Toledo did with Gil Bias on a similar occa- 
 sion. But I cannot help reminding you of a tragedy called 
 ' The Revenge.' " The author took the remark in consider- 
 able dudgeon; but the sparkling young actress, who sin- 
 cerely esteemed him, exerted all her powers to smooth the 
 plumage that her wit had ruffled ; and she did this with 
 such effect, that the doctor, after offering to cancel the line 
 objected to, invited himself to dine with her, and did so in 
 company with Garrick and rough Quin. 
 
 " The Brothers" was acted to thin houses for eight 
 nights, and then quietly shelved. The author realized 
 400 by it; to which adding, from his private purse, 600 
 more, he gave the handsome sum of 1,000 to the Society 
 for the Propagation of the Gospel. The author was dis- 
 pleased alike with the town and with the players. The 
 truth is, however, that the fault lay as much with himself as 
 with either. The play was not original, but taken, without 
 acknowledgment, from various sources. A great portion is 
 almost literally translated from the French piece, Peraee et 
 DSmetrius. Many of the speeches are taken, piecemeal, from 
 Livy. The contest, in the third act, is splendidly phrased ; 
 but the denofiment is so confused and incomplete, that 
 Young was obliged to add an epilogue to explain what was 
 supposed to take place at and after the fall of the curtain ! 
 Garrick substituted a coarse epilogue, which was spoken by 
 sprightly Kitty Olive, who loved to give coarseness all its 
 point ; but it could not save the piece, while it seriously 
 offended the author. Since then " The Brothers" has 
 descended into that oblivion which fittingly enfolds nearly
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 all the classical tragedies of the last century. It is not 
 without its beauties ; but it does not picture the period it 
 affects to portray. The "sir" and "madam" sound as 
 harshly as the "citizen Agamemnon," which the French 
 Republic introduced into Racine's plays ; and the epithets 
 are only one degree less absurd than the Owi, Milor, which 
 Voltaire's Beersheba addresses to King David. 
 
 The four years which succeeded that in which " The Bro- 
 thers " appeared were passed chiefly in retirement at Wel- 
 wyn ; and, when Young was not suffering from sleepless 
 nights, or was not low-spirited at the thoughts of his decay- 
 ing sight, he seems to have maintained a cheerful house- 
 hold. His house was often full of friends ; and the com- 
 pany was as often heterogeneously made up. Long ere this 
 period, however, he had lost two of his dearest friends, who 
 had first met beneath his friendly roof. I allude to Pope 
 and Aaron Hill. The latter was one of Young's favourites. 
 He was the architect of his own fortune. Of a good Wilt- 
 shire family, and left destitute by an improvident father, 
 Hill, at fifteen, left Westminster, where he enjoyed a fair 
 reputation, and started alone for Constantinople, where he 
 sought out Lord Paget, a distant relation, whom he had 
 never seen, and whom his bold decision chanced to please. 
 Lord Paget provided him with a tutor, sent him on his 
 travels, treated him as a son, died, and left him nothing. 
 Hill loved work too well to be exposed to want. He 
 became travelling tutor to Sir William Wentworth, and 
 began a literary career by writing a very indifferent His- 
 tory of the Ottoman Empire. His second attempt was, 
 at least, more profitable. His complimentary poem, 
 " Camillus," was addressed to Lord Peterborough ; and 
 that noble lord, in return, made the aspiring poet his pri- 
 vate secretary. Hill subsequently wrote the tragedy of 
 " Elfrid" for Booth, and the opera of " Rinaldo," which con- 
 tained the first English words to which Handel wedded 
 immortal music. He then became director of the king's
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. IxXVU 
 
 theatre, and enjoyed the usual mis-fortune of directors ; but 
 he escaped ruin by marrying an heiress. His next project 
 was for raising a company, with a capital of 20.000, in 
 order to ex-press olive-oil from beech-nuts. It failed, of 
 course, as did succeeding projects for planting Carolina, 
 and improving the growth of timber in Scotland. He 
 died in the very moment of the earthquake of February, 
 1749-50. 
 
 Young loved the society of Hill; but death had now 
 deprived the hearth at Welwyn not only of his presence, 
 but of that of many a once familiar face. Troubles took 
 their place. He had once employed, as his curate, a 
 young man named Kidgell. They had quarrelled ; and 
 Kidgell revenged himself, in 1755, by publishing a novel 
 called " The Card." In it the doctor is represented as a 
 man given to build sham ruins, and quarrelling with the 
 bricklayer touching the expense ; as one but slightly 
 acquainted with modern languages, but inordinately fond 
 of quoting scraps of Latin ; and who did not like clever 
 curates, who put the rector in the shade. He is further 
 described as parsimonious, and as going about in a gown 
 which was nothing more than " a dirty remnant of tattered 
 crape, which remembered him B.A., together with a rag 
 of muslin, judiciously adapted to the dress, by way of band." 
 The housekeeper, Mrs. Hallows, under the name of Fusby, 
 is depicted as an artful woman, who had mastered the doc- 
 tor by studying his caprices and ruling them, who wished 
 to appear younger than she was, who beat the servants, and 
 who was accustomed to " drinking a drop of juniper by way 
 of hartshorn." How far this was caricature or slander, can- 
 not be determined; but the description which Kidgell 
 gives of the doctor's man agrees exactly with the picture 
 drawn of him by Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu. On the other 
 hand, Mrs. Hallows is spoken of, by those who knew her, 
 as a lady of piety, virtue, and accomplishments, respected 
 by the doctor, and esteemed by his friends.
 
 Ixxviii LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LI..D. 
 
 In January, 1758, Young proceeded to Bath, where he 
 drank the waters, and rejoiced in " getting sleep after two 
 sleepless months." In June, of the same year, he preached 
 a very brief sermon before the king at Kensington. Before 
 he published it, he asked Eichardson if it would be mean 
 of him to notice, in the dedication, his long services and 
 his neglected condition. Eichardson thought not ; but he 
 suggested that the hint ought to be delicately carried to 
 Leicester-House, particularly as the "Night Thoughts" 
 contained more than one innuendo that the doctor's merits 
 had gone unrewarded. The latter, however, lost no time in 
 endeavouring to achieve the desired consummation ; and, a 
 month after he had preached before the king, he applied to 
 Dr. Seeker, Archbishop of Canterbury. His Grace, how- 
 ever, made answer to " good Dr. Young," that he wondered 
 that more suitable return of his great merits had not been 
 made by persons in power ; but that he, " Thomas Cant.," 
 neither knew how to assist him at court, where the prelate 
 enjoyed little influence, nor was likely to do any thing but 
 impede the petitioner's fortunes by exercising, without 
 encouragement, the little influence he did possess. The 
 primate ends with an exquisitely acute, nay, agonizing, 
 piece of satire, addressed to one who had, in poetry at 
 least, asserted so withering a contempt for mere worldly 
 greatness and advantages. " Your fortune and your reputa- 
 tion set you above the need of advancement, and your sen- 
 timents above that concern for it, on your own account ; 
 which, on that of the public, is sincerely felt by your bro- 
 ther, Thomas Cant." The advancement so coveted never 
 came. It is said to have been impeded by the poet's politi- 
 cal leaning towards the person and party of Frederick, 
 Prince of Wales. Ten years after the death of the latter, 
 the princess dowager appointed the still eager candidate for 
 advancement her " clerk of the closet." This occurred in 
 1761, when he was fourscore years of age, powerless for the 
 duties, yet proud of the poor honour. Just before, Hil-
 
 l'H OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 desley, bishop of Sodor and Man, wrote of him to Richard- 
 son : " I am sorry to hear the account you give of Dr. 
 Young's impending misfortune (loss of sight). You do me 
 the honour to join me with yourself in calling him our 
 friend. It is an honour I should be very proud of sufficient 
 title to. The friendship of so valuable a person in every 
 respect, I was ever indeed ambitious to obtain and culti- 
 vate, whilst he was my neighbour for upwards of twenty 
 years ; * and for that end have often intruded upon him. 
 The impertinence of my frequent visits to him, however, 
 was amply rewarded ; forasmuch as, I can truly say, he 
 never received me but with agreeable, open complacency ; 
 and I never left him but with profitable pleasure and 
 improvement. lie was, one or other, the most modest, the 
 most patient of contradiction, and the most informing and 
 entertaining, I ever conversed with, at least of any man 
 who had so just pretensions to pertinacity and reserve. I 
 hope to hear a better account of him ; for he is a man, I 
 think, of singular importance to the Christian world : I 
 pray Heaven may think so too." 
 
 His last effort marked by any vigour appeared the year 
 after the sermon preached before the king. This was the 
 well-written Letter on "Original Composition," addressed 
 to Richardson, at whose house Young read it in presence of 
 Johnson, whom he met there for the first time. In 1762, 
 he closed the catalogue of his works with his poem on 
 Resignation, a production in which we shall look in vain 
 for the beauties discerned by Johnson,t or for the great 
 defects censured by the critics. It was written to console 
 
 * When llildesley was vicar of the parish of Hitchin, near Welwyn. 
 
 t " His last poem was ' Resignation ; ' in which he made, as he was 
 accustomed, an experiment of a new mode of writing, and succeeded 
 better than in his ' Ocean ' or his ' Merchant.' It was very falsely 
 represented as a proof of decayed faculties. There is Young in every 
 stanza, such as he often was in the highest vigour." JOHNSON'S " Lives 
 of the English Poets."
 
 1XXX LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 Mrs. Boscawen for the death of her husband, the gallant 
 admiral ; and there was something chivalrous in the old 
 minstrel who somewhat feebly, yet not unmusically withal, 
 swept the strings of his well-worn lyre, that his song might 
 give comfort to the fair afflicted. As Croft has tried hard 
 to injure the memory of Young, it becomes a pleasing duty 
 to give an extract from that part of his narrative which is 
 devoid of palpable malignity, and which serves to neutralize 
 many of his ungenerous innuendoes : " In 1762, a short 
 time before his death, Young published ' Resignation.' 
 Notwithstanding the manner in which it was really forced 
 from him by the world, criticism has treated it with no 
 common severity. If it shall be thought not to deserve the 
 highest praise, by whom, on the other side of fourscore, 
 (except by Newton, and by Waller,) has praise been 
 merited ? To Mrs. Montagu, the famous champion of Shak- 
 speare, I am indebted for the history of ' Resignation.' " 
 
 I prefer to give this lady's account in her own words ; 
 which I am happy in being enabled to present in the form 
 of a recent valuable communication to the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine,"* by Peter Cunninghaine, Esq., who copied from 
 the original her reply to Croft's inquiries : 
 
 " Sandleford, September VJlh, 1782. 
 " MRS. MONTAGU presents her compliments to Mr. Croft, 
 and would have returned an answer to his letter sooner, but. 
 being in the country, it was delayed on its way to her. In 
 regard to ' Resignation,' the matter which gave occasion to 
 that poem was simply this : Mrs. Montagu having observed 
 that Mrs. Boscawen, in her great and just grief for the loss 
 of the admiral, seemed to find some consolation in reading 
 Dr. Young's ' Night Thoughts,' she wished to give her an 
 opportunity of conversing with him, having herself always 
 thought his unbounded genius appeared to greater advan- 
 tage in the companion than the author. The Christian was 
 
 * For February, 1853.
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 in him a character more inspired, more enraptured, more 
 sublime, than the poet ; and in his ordinary conversation, 
 
 ' - letting down the golden chain from high, 
 He drew his audience upward to the sky." 
 
 Mrs. M. therefore proposed to Mrs. Boscawen and Mrs. 
 Carter to go with her to Welwyn : it is unnecessary to add 
 that the visit answered every expectation. 
 
 " Mrs. Montagu is very sorry it is not in her power to 
 furnish Mr. Croft with any important circumstances in Dr. 
 Young's life ; but he was sunk into the vale of years and 
 quiet, retreat, before she had the honour and happiness 
 of his acquaintance ; * and, his contemplation being then 
 chiefly intent on things 'above the visible diurnal sphere,' he 
 rarely talked of the earlier and more active part of his life. 
 From others she has heard many things greatly to his 
 credit ; particularly an act of uncommon liberality to his 
 lady's daughter by her first husband ; but as they were 
 delivered to her in the vague relations of common dis- 
 course, she cannot speak of them with such certainty and 
 precision as Mr. Croft's purpose requires. This deficiency 
 she greatly laments, not only on account of the honour 
 they would have done to the memory of her departed 
 friend, but likewise for the sake of the world, to whom 
 they would have held forth patterns of right and noble 
 conduct. Though right and wrong are declared and made 
 known to us by higher wisdom than human wisdom, yet, 
 such is tne perverseness of mankind, they are more apt to 
 be influenced by the example of persons celebrated for 
 their parts than by pure precept ; for the same reason, in 
 an unbelieving age, the interests of religion are connected 
 with the character of a man so distinguished for piety as 
 Dr. Young. Though unable to assist Mr. Croft, she must 
 ever respect him for endeavouring to get information from 
 
 * Yet she knew him nearly forty years prior to this. See her amusing 
 iccount of him at Tunbridgc Wells, in p. Ixviii.
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD TOTING, 1L.I). 
 
 Dr. Young's friends concerning him, instead of collecting 
 from the whispers of calumny idle tales by which to blast 
 the memory of a good man, and prevent the edification of a 
 good example. 
 " To Herbert Croft, Esq., Southampton- Row, London." 
 
 " While the poet and the Christian were applying this 
 comfort," says Croft, " Young had himself occasion for 
 comfort, in consequence of the sudden death of Richardson, 
 who was printing the former part of the poem." 
 
 In the same year, (1762,) he was requested by his pub- 
 lishers * to select those portions of his writings which he 
 might be wishful for posterity to regard as the only genu- 
 ine and accredited productions of " the Author of the Night 
 Thoughts." The brief " advertisement " which he prefixed to 
 the selection has been generally admired for its modesty and 
 simplicity. But his powers of discrimination must have 
 been at that time greatly enfeebled : for while he considered 
 it a grievous scandal to acknowledge his early and intimate 
 connexion with the profligate Duke of Wharton, and on 
 that account excluded from his collection the dedication 
 of " Busiris " to his Grace ; he tolerated the insertion of the 
 obscene epilogue to that tragedy, and the equally repre- 
 hensible one suffixed to " the Revenge," two pieces which, 
 without adverting to his own casual lapses, have proved 
 intolerable obstructions to those benevolent biographers 
 who are desirous of depicting him, in the decline of life, as 
 the model of a consistent Christian and of a sound divine. 
 
 Soon after the completion of " Resignation," warnings 
 fell thick upon the aged author. He had long been unable 
 to fulfil the duties of his sacred office ; yet he was more 
 inclined, like Baxter, to linger and serve heaven upon 
 
 * The proprietors of his " Works," according to the title-page, were 
 D. Browne, C. Hitch, and L. Hawes, A. Millar, J. and R. Tonson, J. 
 Rivington, S. Crowder and Co., C. Corbett, J. Jackson, R. and J. 
 Dodsley, and J. Richardson.
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. Ixxxiii 
 
 earth, than to sigh, like Baxter's great adversary, John 
 Owen, to be relieved of all service here, and be summoned 
 hence to heaven. He had, indeed, written, in 1761, to his 
 friend Newcome, by an amanuensis, an assurance that he 
 had no desire to live over again one of his past years ; but 
 that he was not unconcerned to reckon some future years, 
 is seen in the doubt expressed that Newcome himself had 
 attained the advanced period of eighty-seven. " I want 
 considerably of that age," he says. He fancied that he and 
 Newcome were of about the same standing, and was not 
 willing that the latter should count too fast. He could not 
 yet be fourscore and seven : " If it be worth your while," 
 he added, "satisfy me in that particular." 
 
 He who had beaten Voltaire in sparkling wit at Bubb 
 Dodington's, who had charmed Warton by the brilliancy 
 of his conversation and the fervour of his piety, and had 
 somewhat shocked the grave Mrs. Carter by his endless 
 vivacity, is said to have passed the last three years of his 
 life at Welwyn in much of that kind of dejection which 
 sometimes accompanies old age. " He was too well-bred a 
 man," said Frederick Young of his father, "not to be 
 cheerful in company; but he was gloomy when alone. 
 He never was cheerful after my mother's death ; and he 
 had met with many disappointments." Whether for good 
 or for ill, Mrs. Hallows reigned supreme ; but neither 
 household nor church seemed to have profited by the 
 ascendancy. A change of eighteen servants in one year 
 betokens a troubled home ; and allusions made by his 
 curate, Mr. Jones, to doubtful speculative opinions, to 
 " strange things not greatly to his credit," to " persons here 
 whose word and honour cannot be depended on," and to 
 measures proposed which the very ill-paid curate could by 
 no means approve, augur ill for the well-being of the flock. 
 
 Such was the sad condition of affairs, as depicted by 
 Mr. Jones, when, in 1765, Young was overtaken by his 
 last illness. Though his cheerfulness had declined, his wit
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 remained unabated. A friend chanced to speak to him 
 of the decease of a person who had long been in a decline, 
 and who " was quite worn to a shell before he died." " I 
 dare say," was the remark of the moribund poet ; " but 
 what has become of the kernel ] " These expressions 
 of his wit only came at intervals between paroxysms of 
 pain which, at length, slew him ; and he died on the 
 night of Good Friday, the 5th of April, 3765, about an 
 hour before midnight ; and, on the following Friday, he 
 was buried in the chancel of the church, close by the 
 remains of his lady, and under the communion-table which 
 had been ornamented by her graceful needle-work. " His 
 pall was supported by the rectors and vicars of the neigh- 
 bouring parishes. The mourners were his son, his nephew, 
 and other near relatives, most of the bearers, and the whole 
 town of Welwyn." 
 
 He bequeathed a thousand pounds to Mrs. Hallows, 
 with an injunction to her, as well as to his executors, to 
 destroy all his manuscripts as soon as he was dead. He 
 also left a legacy to his " friend, Henry Steevens, a hatter 
 at the Temple Gate;" and the remainder of his property 
 was given to his son. 
 
 Much vituperation has been unjustly vented against 
 Young in reference to the treatment of his son. Yet, even 
 with the slight information which we possess on this sub- 
 ject, his conduct seems capable of extenuation, if not of 
 complete exculpation. In some very respectable families, 
 untoward events occur, more frequently the results of 
 passion than of reason or charity, which puzzle both friends 
 and relations ; but if a stranger attempts to intermeddle 
 with them, he usually finds himself unable to explain their 
 origin, and the circumstances by which they are attended, 
 or to account for the motives by which the parties have 
 been actuated. Yet all such matters may be satisfactorily 
 solved, by a philosopher, on the general principles of human 
 nature. Let us try the experiment in this affair.
 
 HFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, Uj.. IxXXV 
 
 When Lady Elizabeth Young died, her son was about 
 eight years of age. Her daughter, Miss Caroline Lee,* the 
 younger sister of Narcissa, had the entire management 
 of his domestic concerns till the period of her marriage 
 with Major Haviland, with whom she went to reside in 
 Ireland. Frederick is conjectured then to have been 
 upwards of twelve years old ; and had always passed his 
 vacations from Winchester most agreeably in the society 
 and under the kind superintendence of his half-sister. On 
 his next visit, he found the place of his beloved mother and 
 sister occupied by a stranger ; an excellent maiden lady, 
 well advanced in years, but destitute of those endearing 
 attractions connected with affectionate relationship, which 
 had previously enchained him to the home of his boyhood. 
 Youthful spirit displays itself more early in some subjects 
 than in others ; and Frederick Young soon felt the noble 
 blood, which he derived from his mother, stirred up to 
 resent what he conceived to be an undue assumption of 
 authority, by one whom he regarded in the light of a 
 menial. The first outbreaks of insubordination were pro- 
 bably curbed or kindly overlooked ; and a return to the 
 duties of a public school would be hailed by him, as it has 
 been by many others, as a happy escape from domestic 
 tyranny. While disclosing to his companions, in the con- 
 fidence of school-friendship, the real or supposed wrongs 
 and insults by which he had been annoyed, he undoubtedly 
 found many generous sympathizers, who would applaud his 
 spirit, and provide him with weapons for future resistance. 
 In a subsequent visit to Welwyn, he furnished fresh in- 
 stances of what the housekeeper called "insubordination;" 
 when she appealed to the worthy rector, who seems to have 
 taken a strong constitutional view of upholding existing 
 
 * This is the young lady, mentioned by Mrs. Montagu in a preceding 
 page, (Ixxxi.,) to whom Young performed "an act of uncommon libe- 
 rality," most probably in augmenting her marriage-dowry. 
 h
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 authority. The consequence was, that his son then, or 
 soon afterwards, left his father's house, and went to reside 
 with his cousin ; by whom and by other relations he would 
 be commended for his conduct. No longer under parental 
 control, the young gentleman chose gay associates, and 
 was guilty of numerous indiscretions, which grieved his 
 father, and served still more to alienate them from each 
 other. This culpable estrangement continued many years. 
 But as doon as Frederick Young heard that his father was 
 on his death-bed, he hastened to the rectory to entreat 
 forgiveness. Of the result of that visit, Dr. Young's curate, 
 whom he appointed executor to his Will, gives the follow- 
 ing account : " I have now the pleasure to acquaint j-ou, 
 that the late Dr. Young, though he had for many years 
 kept his son at a distance from him,-yet has now at last 
 left him all his possessions, after the payment of certain 
 legacies : so that the young gentleman, who bears a fair 
 character and behaves well, as far as I can hear or see, will, 
 I hope, soon enjoy and make a prudent use of a very hand- 
 pome fortune." 
 
 This summary of grievances is derived chiefly from those 
 who avowed themselves to be the father's detractors, and 
 the comrades and defenders of the son. What is there in 
 it which has not been the misfortune, if not the fault, of 
 other parents, less " unaccountable " and eccentric than 
 Young is shown by Richardson and Mrs. Montagu to 
 have been? Let him therefore have the benefit of being 
 judged by the same rules, as those which we apply to other 
 men in similar circumstances. It will then be evident, 
 that, though a man of mighty mind, he was subject to 
 some of the unamiable infirmities of our nature, and suf- 
 fered himself to be unduly irritated by the waywardness of 
 a boy, whom he had not the temper or the tact to manage. 
 
 But the crowning accusation of Young's enemies is his 
 refusal to admit his son to an interview when he was in 
 dying circumstances. Those writers, however, who have
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 Ixxxvii 
 
 on this account loaded his memory with obloquy, are 
 greatly in error when they reason on the false assumption, 
 that he was as capable of reflection and decision on the 
 couch of death, as he had been in the days of his hale and 
 mature age : whereas all existing evidence goes to the dis- 
 proof of this surmise. Mr. Jones the curate, who was of 
 opinion that his son ought to have been ushered into his 
 presence, has himself furnished us with proofs why this 
 course would have been improper. Opiates, he says, had 
 frequently been administered to him, during the preceding 
 fortnight, " to render him less susceptible of pain ; though 
 what effect the frequent use of them may by degrees have 
 upon him, I know not." A youthful friend, some years 
 after Young's decease, thus describes his conduct on that 
 solemn occasion : " Of the last hours of this excellent man 
 I can only give one passage : That when his son arrived to 
 pay the last duties, he sent to him his blessing and forgive- 
 ness ; with an assurance, that he did not refuse to see him 
 from any remains of resentment, but that his bodily pain 
 was so exquisite that he was unable to bear so affecting a 
 meeting ; and that he would find, by his last Will, that lie 
 had always considered him as his son, and never meant to 
 carry his displeasure to the grave." This was not a 
 momentary feeling, but an unceasing thought-fulness, for 
 his son's welfare ; as will appear from a casual expression 
 in one of Kichardson's letters to Lady Bradshaigh, ten 
 years before the death of Young, when his tragedy of " the 
 Brothers " was unsuccessful : " He, finding it did not answer 
 his expectations as to profits, took them to himself, (not 
 400,) and gave a thousand guineas to the Society for pro- 
 pagating the Gospel. I had some talk with him on this 
 great action. 'I always,' said he, 'intended to do some- 
 thing handsome by this Society. Had I deferred it to my 
 demise, I shoitld have given away my son's money.' " 
 
 What is there in Young's conduct which detracts from 
 the sincerity of his affections 1 It was a prudential absti- 
 h 2
 
 IxXXVili LIFE OJ 1 EDWARD YOUNQ, LL.D. 
 
 nence; which is of constant occurrence among relations; 
 among those who have been on the most affectionate terms 
 with the dying, as well as among those who have been long 
 estranged from each other. Having scarcely known a day's 
 sickness during a long life, Young had at length been 
 attacked by acute disease, which proved to be mortal. 
 Exercised with paroxysms of strong pain, in the intervals 
 between them he had to endure a sense of lassitude and 
 weakness which was equally harassing. A man of eighty- 
 five, on the verge of the grave, " the daughters of music 
 having been brought low, and the grass-hopper itself having 
 become a burden," might safely offer these circumstances 
 in excuse for declining such a distressing interview as that 
 which was proposed. 
 
 But though all this may be justly urged in favour of 
 Young at that sad crisis, yet every right-hearted man must 
 feel that his refusal to see his penitent child, and to whisper 
 his dying blessing, will always be regarded by posterity as 
 a great blemish in his character. On the contrary, no son 
 ever showed himself more amiable than Frederick Young, 
 when in deep sorrow he meekly accepted the tardy blessing, 
 conveyed to him in the cold utterance of a stranger ; and 
 then gratefully erected a tablet to the memory of his father, 
 with the significant inscription : 
 
 M. S. 
 
 OPTIMI PARENTIS 
 HUJUS ECOLESIJE RECTORIS, 
 
 ET ELIZABETHS 
 
 FfflMIN^l PR^NOBILI, 
 
 CONJUOI EJUS PRESTANTISSIMJE, 
 
 PIO ET GRATISSIMO ANIMO, 
 
 HOC MARMOR POSUIT 
 
 F. T. 
 FILITJS SUPERSTES. 
 
 The reader will not fail to observe the deep feeling 
 couched under the expression, Et ElizobethcB Fwminoi prco-
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD TOTOG, LL.D. IxXXlX 
 
 nobtti, conjugi ejus prcestantissimce ; and may trace in it 
 the natural regrets of the young gentleman, that his noble 
 mother had not been spared to be the affectionate guide 
 of his boyhood. 
 
 The estimate of Young's religious character, and of his con- 
 duct as a clergyman, will vary according to the differing views 
 of those who engage in the investigation. An evangelical 
 clergyman, of great mental vigour, has drawn the portrait of 
 the author of " the Night Thoughts " in these colours : 
 
 "Young is, of all other men, one of the most striking 
 examples of the sad disunion of Piety from Truth. If we 
 read his most true, impassioned, and impressive estimate 
 of the world and of religion, we shall think it impossible 
 that he was uninfluenced by his subject. It is, however, a 
 melancholy fact, that he was hunting after preferment at 
 eighty years old, and felt and spoke like a disappointed 
 man. The Truth [of the Gospel] was pictured on his mind 
 in most vivid colours. He felt it while he was writing. 
 He felt himself on a retired spot ; and he saw Death, the 
 mighty hunter, pursuing the unthinking world. He saw 
 redemption its necessity and its grandeur ; and, while he 
 looked on it, he spoke as a man would speak whose mind 
 and heart are deeply engaged. Notwithstanding all this, 
 the view did not reach his heart. Had I preached in his 
 pulpit with the fervour and interest that his Night 
 Thoughts discover, he would have been terrified. He told 
 a friend of mine, who went to him under religious fears, 
 that he must go more into the world." * 
 
 But this perhaps is too severe a standard by which to try 
 the personal piety of Dr. Young. He was one of the class 
 of divines who are described in the Spectator, and in other 
 writings of those times ; and the advice which he tendered 
 to Mr. Cecil's friend, who suffered " under religious fears," 
 though not so soothing and salutary as that which Christ 
 himself has delivered in the New Testament, was of the kind 
 
 * CECIL'S "Remains." 
 h 3
 
 LIFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 then in vogue among most of his clerical brethren. They 
 were men in whose orthodoxy no flaw could be detected ; 
 but they seem never to have understood, or too soon to have 
 forgotten, the design and tendency of the gospel, which 
 
 " Lays the rough path of peevish nature even, 
 And opens in each breast a little heaven." 
 
 The commendable improvement in the morals of the 
 great body of the clergy, and the increasing consistency 
 between their faith and their practice, are pleasing traita 
 by which the present age is as much distinguished, as it is 
 by our astonishing progress in the arts and sciences. But 
 we are not to depreciate the piety of our grandfathers, and 
 of those who were their spiritual instructors, because their 
 training and their privileges were inferior to ours. Young 
 had been a man of the world, and had spent the best part 
 of his life in gay society. At the advanced age of forty 
 seven he entered on the duties of a clergyman with appa 
 rently very inadequate preparation for the sacred office ; 
 yet, from youth to old age, he is represented as having 
 ably maintained and zealously defended the essential veri- 
 ties of the Christian religion, in all companies, and against 
 all adversaries. Though he cannot be said to have been in 
 all points such a clergyman as our best wishes would have 
 made him, yet we prefer to take our estimate of the sound- 
 ness and maturity of his religious attainments from the 
 very satisfactory correspondence with his friend Richard- 
 son, from the sentiments embodied in his latest poem, 
 (on Resignation,) and from the testimony of Mrs. Mon- 
 tagu in a preceding page, (Ixxxi.,) and of Dr. Joseph 
 Warton, who declares, " Dr. Young was one of the most 
 amiable and benevolent of men, most exemplary in his 
 life, and sincere in his religion." This is evidence inci- 
 dentally given by those virtuous and gifted persons who 
 had known him long and intimately, and who had, within 
 four years of his decease, enjoyed opportunities of personal 
 intercourse with him, and admired his ripening piety.
 
 1IFE OP EDWARD YOUNG, LL.D. 
 
 The taste of critics has also differed much, while seve- 
 rally adjudicating upon the merits of Young as a poet and 
 a man of genius. Not attempting to enter on a 'discussion 
 concerning the relative value of their contradictory opi- 
 nions, I feel more inclined to record my assent, with a 
 slight modification or two, to the judgment delivered by 
 two eminent writers, in one of our most popular Maga- 
 zines. The first says, 
 
 " In no volume of our sacred poetry is the efficacy of a 
 Christian's faith more powerfully demonstrated. It has 
 been objected to the Elegy of Gray, that we cannot read it 
 without a sensation of despondency. But the Muse of 
 Young is not obnoxious to a like censure : the sweetest 
 tones of her harp are awakened to accompany the depart- 
 ing Christian ; the fairest flowers of her garden are scattered 
 upon his tomb. An angel of peace sits ever, in his verse, 
 by the pillow of the righteous. 
 
 " Perhaps no man ever wrote so much, and yet bor- 
 rowed so little [as Dr. Young]. His materials, like bis 
 style, belong to himself alone. Unlike his great predeces- 
 sor Milton, his footsteps are rarely or never to be traced in 
 the paths of the old mythology, or among the flowers of the 
 old Tuscan song. His illustrations are all furnished by 
 deep meditation, and watchful observance of manners and 
 life. He is one of the most original, because one of the 
 most thoughtful, of poets." * 
 
 The other critic justly observes : " With all his faults 
 of taste, and they were many, Young was a striking, a 
 noble, an original writer. He is the greatest didactic poet 
 in our language; and, after Shakspeare and Milton, the 
 most sublime. His fertility is exhaustless, his brilliancy 
 is unquenchable, his strength invincible by fatigue. He has 
 (so to speak) the same unwieldy gait that marks the intel- 
 lectual motion of Ben Jonson. But, like that illustrious dra- 
 matist, he has also the giant's stature. His poem for when 
 
 # PHASER'S " Magazine," vol. xiv. p. 674.
 
 LIFE OF EDWAHD YOUNO, LL.D. 
 
 we speak of Young, we speak of the author of the Night 
 Thoughts is a mine of gold : dig where we will, a rich 
 vein rewards our toil. 
 
 Do we seek for sentences sharpened into epigrams 1 They 
 
 are there. 
 For thoughts of vivid force and_ beauty 1 They stud every 
 
 page. 
 For grand and startling descriptions? Michael Angelo 
 
 might have modelled from his lines. 
 For images of thrilling terror and mysterious solemnity] 
 
 Dante would have found many to light up his Inferno. 
 For glimpses of human nature under its darker aspect 1 
 
 Rochefoucauld would have applauded him. 
 
 " When Boswell said, that he esteemed the Night Thoughts 
 as a mass of the greatest and richest poetry that human 
 genius had ever produced, he only displayed his want of dis- 
 crimination : It contains the principle of immortality, 
 if we may employ the metaphor, but only in fragments. 
 It has been the misfortune of Young to be criticised by 
 persons who never read, in all probability, twenty pages 
 of his writings."* 
 
 Impartial and apparently severe as some of my brief cri- 
 ticisms on the author's -minor poems have been, I may be 
 allowed to conclude this sketch of his Life with the decla- 
 ration, that in the high character which these two judicious 
 writers have given of the productions of Young's mental 
 powers, they seem to confine themselves within the bounds 
 of truth and sobriety ; and that the ample praise which they 
 have bestowed on him does not err in excess, but is barely 
 that which is due to his obvious merits as one of our great 
 poets, and a man of transcendent genius, whose taste and 
 judgment were occasionally overbalanced by the exuberance 
 
 of his imagination. 
 
 JOHN DORAN. 
 
 February 2d, 1853. 
 
 * PHASER'S "Magazine," vol xxiii. p. 416.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 
 
 LIFE, TIME, FRIENDSHIP, DEATH, 
 AND IMMORTALITY: 
 
 IN NINE NIGHTS. 
 
 Sunt lachryma rerum, et mentem mortalta tenpwnt ViRoiuua.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As the occasion of this poem was real, not fictitious ; so 
 the method pursued in it was rather imposed by what spon- 
 taneously arose in the author's mind on that occasion, than 
 meditated or designed : which will appear very probable 
 from the nature of it ; for it differs from the common mode 
 of poetry, which is from long narrations to draw short 
 morals. Here, on the contrary, the narrative is short, and 
 the morality arising from it makes the bulk of the poem. 
 The reason of it is, that the facts mentioned did naturally 
 pour these moral reflections on the thought of the writer.* 
 
 * The Night Thoughts were originally published in separate quarto 
 pamphlets, one Night in each, at intervals of six or eight months, from 
 the year 1741 to 1745. No introduction was prefixed to any of the 
 first three Nights ; but the Fourth had one ; and when the author 
 collected the best of his Works, and published them in four volumes, he 
 transferred this paragraph from the Fourth Night to the First, as a 
 brief preface to the whole of the Night Thoughts. EDIT.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT I. 
 
 ON LIFE. DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ARTHUR 
 ONSLOW, ESQ., SPEAKER OP THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 
 
 B 3
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 NIGHT I. 
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 TIKED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! 
 
 He, like the world, his ready visit pays 
 
 Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; 
 
 Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, 
 
 And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 5 
 
 FKOM short (as usual) and disturb'd repose 
 
 I wake : how happy they who wake no more ! 
 
 Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave. 
 
 I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams 
 
 Tumultuous ; where my wreck'd desponding thought, 10 
 
 From wave to wave of fancied misery, 
 
 At random drove, her helm of reason lost : 
 
 Though now restored, 't is only change of pain, 
 
 (A bitter change !) severer for severe. 
 
 The Day too short for my distress ; and Night, 15 
 
 E'en in the zenith of her dark domain, 
 
 Is sunshine to the colour of my fate. 
 
 NIGHT, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
 
 In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
 
 Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 20 
 
 Silence, how dead ! and darkness, how profound ! 
 
 Nor eye, nor listening ear, an object finds ; 
 
 Creation sleeps. 'T is as the general pulse 
 
 Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; 
 
 An awful pause ! prophetic of her end. '2.5
 
 NIOHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd : 
 Fate ! drop the curtain ; I can lose no more. 
 
 SILENCE and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twins 
 
 From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought 
 
 To reason, and on reason build resolve, 30 
 
 (That column of true majesty in man,) 
 
 Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; 
 
 The grave your kingdom : there this frame shall fall 
 
 A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. 
 
 But what are ye 1 35 
 
 THOU, who didst put to flight 
 Primeval Silence, when the morning stars, 
 Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball ; 
 
 THOU, whose Word from solid darkness struck 
 
 That spark, the sun ! strike wisdom from my soul ; 40 
 
 My soul, which flies to Thee, her trust, her treasure, 
 As misers to their gold, while others rest. 
 
 THROUGH this opaque of Nature and of soul, 
 
 This double night, transmit one pitying ray, 
 
 To lighten and to cheer. lead my mind, 45 
 
 (A mind that fain would wander from its woe,) 
 
 Lead it through various scenes of life and death ; 
 
 And from each scene the noblest truths inspire. 
 
 Nor less inspire my conduct than my song : 
 
 Teach my best reason, reason ; my best will 50 
 
 Teach rectitude ; and fix my firm resolve 
 
 Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear : 
 
 Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd 
 
 On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain. 
 
 THE bell strikes one. We take no note of time 55 
 
 But from its loss.* To give it then a tongue 
 Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, 
 
 1 feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 It is the knell of my departed hours. 
 
 Where are they 1 With the years beyond the flood. 60 
 
 It is the signal that demands despatch : 
 
 How much is to be done ! My hopes and fears 
 
 Start up alann'd, and o'er life's narrow verge 
 
 Look down on what ? A fathomless abyss, 
 
 A dread eternity ! how surely mine ! 65 
 
 And can eternity belong to me, 
 
 Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour 1 
 
 How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
 
 How complicate, how wonderful is man ! 
 
 How passing wonder HE who made him such ! 70 
 
 Who centred in our make such strange extremes ! 
 
 From different natures marvellously mix'd, 
 
 Connexion exquisite of distant worlds ! 
 
 Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain ! 
 
 Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 75 
 
 A beam ethereal, sullied and absorb'd ! 
 
 Though sullied and dishonour'd, still Divine ! 
 
 Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! 
 
 An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! 
 
 Helpless immortal ! insect infinite! 80 
 
 A worm ! a god ! I tremble at myself, 
 
 And in myself am lost ! At home a stranger, 
 
 Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, 
 
 And wondering at her own. How reason reels ! 
 
 what a miracle to man is man, 85 
 
 Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy ! what dread ! 
 
 Alternately transported and alann'd ! 
 
 What can preserve my life ? or what destroy 1 
 
 An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave ; 
 
 Legions of angels can't confine me there. 90 
 
 T is past conjecture ; all things rise in proof : 
 While o'er my limbs Sleep's soft dominion spread,
 
 10 NIGHT THOJGHTS. 
 
 What though my soul fantastic measures trod 
 
 O'er fairy fields ; or mourn'd along the gloom 
 
 Of pathless woods ; or, down the craggy steep 95 
 
 Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool ; 
 
 Or scaled the cliff; or danced on hollow winds, 
 
 With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ? 
 
 Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her nature 
 
 Of subtler essence than the trodden clod ; 100 
 
 Active, aerial, towering, unconfined, 
 
 Unfetter'd with her gross companion's fall. 
 
 E'en silent Night proclaims my soul immortal : 
 
 E'en silent Night proclaims eternal day. 
 
 For human weal, Heaven husbands all events ; 105 
 
 Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. 
 
 WHY then their loss deplore that are not lost 1 
 
 Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around 
 
 In infidel distress ] Are angels there ? 
 
 Slumbers, raked up in dust, ethereal fire? 110 
 
 They live ! they greatly live a life on earth 
 
 Unkindled, unconceived ; and from an eye 
 
 Of tenderness let heavenly pity fall 
 
 On me, more justly number'd with the dead. 
 
 This is the desert, this the solitude : 115 
 
 How populous, how vital is the grave ! 
 
 This is creation's melancholy vault, 
 
 The vale funereal, the sad cypress-gloom ; 
 
 The land of apparitions, empty shades ! 
 
 All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond 120 
 
 Is substance ; the reverse is Folly's creed : 
 
 How solid all, where change shall be no more ! 
 
 THIS is the bud of being, the dim dawn, 
 
 The twilight of our day, the vestibule : 
 
 Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, 125 
 
 Strong Death, alone can heave the massy bar,
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 11 
 
 This gross impediment of clay remove, 
 
 And make us embryos of existence free. 
 
 From real life but little more remote 
 
 Is he, not yet a candidate for light, 130 
 
 The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. 
 
 Embryos we must be till we burst the shell, 
 
 Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, 
 
 The life of gods (0 transport !) and of man. 
 
 YET man (fool man !) here buries all his thoughts ; 135 
 
 Inters celestial hopes without one sigh ; 
 
 Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon, 
 
 Here pinions all his wishes ; wing'd by Heaven 
 
 To fly at infinite ; and reach it there 
 
 Where seraphs gather immortality, 140 
 
 On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. 
 
 What golden joys ambrosial clustering glow 
 
 In His full beam, and ripen for the just, 
 
 Where momentary ages are no more ! 
 
 Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death expire ! 
 
 And is it in the flight of threescore years 146 
 
 To push eternity from human thought, 
 
 And smother souls immortal in the dust ] 
 
 A soul immortal, spending all her fires, 
 
 Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 150 
 
 Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, 
 
 At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, 
 
 Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, 
 
 To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. 
 
 WHERE falls this censure ? It o'erwhelms myself. 155 
 
 How was my heart incrusted by the world ! 
 
 how self-fetter'd was my grovelling soul ! 
 
 How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round 
 
 In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, 
 
 Till darken'd Eeason lay quite clouded o'er 160
 
 12 XIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 With soft conceit of endless comfort here, 
 Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies ! 
 
 Night visions may befriend (as sung above) : 
 
 Our waking dreams are fatal. How I dreamt 
 
 Of things impossible ! (could sleep do more ?) 165 
 
 Of joys perpetual in perpetual change ! 
 
 Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave ! 
 
 Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! 
 
 How richly were my noon-tide trances hung 
 
 With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys ! 170 
 
 Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! 
 
 Till at Death's toll, whose restless iron tongue 
 
 Calls daily for his millions at a meal, 
 
 Starting I woke, and found myself undone. 
 
 Where now my frenzy's pompous furniture? 175 
 
 The cobwebb'd cottage, with its ragged wall 
 
 Of mouldering mud, is royalty to me ! 
 
 The spider's most attenuated thread 
 
 Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
 
 On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze. 180 
 
 YE blest scenes of permanent delight ! 
 
 Full above measure ! lasting beyond bound '. 
 
 A perpetuity of bliss is bliss. 
 
 Could you, so rich in rapture, fear an end, 
 
 That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy, 185 
 
 And quite unparadise the realms of light. 
 
 Safe are you lodged above these rolling spheres ; 
 
 The baleful influence of whose giddy dance 
 
 Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. 
 
 Here teems with revolutions every hour, 190 
 
 And rarely for the better ; or the best 
 
 More mortal than the common births of fate. 
 
 Each Moment has its sickle, emulous 
 
 Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 13 
 
 Strikes empires from the root ; each Moment plays 195 
 His little weapon in the narrower sphere 
 Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down 
 The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. 
 
 Bliss! sublunary bliss! proud words, and vain! 
 
 Implicit treason to Divine decree ! 200 
 
 A bold invasion of the rights of Heaven ! 
 
 I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air. 
 
 had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace, 
 
 What darts of agony had miss'd my heart ! 
 
 DEATH ! great proprietor of all ! 't is thine 205 
 
 To tread out empire, and to quench the stars. 
 
 The sun himself by thy permission shines ; 
 
 And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere. 
 
 Amid such mighty plunder, why exhaust 
 
 Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean 1 210 
 
 Why thy peculiar rancour wreak'd on me 1 
 
 Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? 
 
 Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; 
 
 And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn. 
 
 Cynthia ! why so pale 1 dost thou lament 215 
 
 Thy wretched neighbour ? grieve to see thy wheel 
 
 Of ceaseless change outwhirl'd in human life ? 
 
 How wanes my borrow'd bliss ! from Fortune's smile, 
 
 Precarious courtesy ! not Virtue's sure, 
 
 Self-given, solar ray of sound delight. 220 
 
 IN every varied posture, place, and hour, 
 
 How widow'd every thought of every joy ! 
 
 Thought, busy thought ! too busy for my peace ! 
 
 Through the dark postern of time long elapsed, 
 
 Led softly by the stillness of the night, 225 
 
 Led like a murderer, (and such it proves !) 
 
 Strays (wretched rover !) o'er the pleasing past ;
 
 14 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT I. ! 
 
 In quest of wretchedness perversely strays ; 
 
 
 And finds all desert now ; and meets the ghosts 
 
 
 Of my departed joys ; a numerous train ! 
 
 230 
 
 I rue the riches of my former fate ; 
 
 
 Sweet comfort's blasted clusters I lament ; * 
 
 
 I tremble at the blessings once so dear ; 
 
 
 And every pleasure pains me to the heart. 
 
 
 YET why complain 1 or why complain for one 1 
 
 235 
 
 Hangs out the sun his lustre but for me, 
 
 
 The single man ? Are angels all beside 1 
 
 
 I mourn for millions : 't is the common lot ; 
 
 
 In this shape, or in that, has Fate entail'd 
 
 
 The mother's throes on all of woman born, 
 
 240 
 
 Not more the children, than sure heirs, of Pain. 
 
 
 WAR, Famine, Pest, Volcano, Storm, and Fire, 
 
 
 Intestine Broils, Oppression with her heart 
 
 
 Wrapt up in triple brass, besiege mankind. 
 
 
 God's image, disinherited of day, 
 
 245 
 
 Here, plunged in mines, forgets a sun was made. 
 
 
 There, beings, deathless as their haughty lord, 
 
 
 Are hammer'd to the galling oar for life ; 
 
 
 And plough the winter's wave, and reap despair. 
 
 
 Some, for hard masters, broken under arms, 
 
 250 
 
 In battle lopp'd away, with half their limbs, 
 
 
 Beg bitter bread through realms their valour saved, 
 
 
 If so the tyrant, or his minion, doom. 
 
 
 Want, and incurable Disease, (fell pair !) 
 
 
 On hopeless multitudes remorseless seize 
 
 255 
 
 At once, and make a refuge of the grave. 
 
 
 How groaning hospitals eject their dead ! 
 
 
 What numbers groan for sad admission there ! 
 
 
 What numbers, once in Fortune's lap high-fed, 
 
 
 * " Sweet comfort's blaated clusters make me sigh," 
 
 
 is the reading of the early quarto impressions. EDIT. 

 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 15 
 
 Solicit the cold hand of Charity ! 260 
 
 To shock us more, solicit it in vain ! 
 
 Ye silken sons of Pleasure ! since in pains 
 
 You rue more modish visits, visit here, 
 
 And breathe from your debauch : give, and reduce 
 
 Surfeit's dominion o'er you : but so great 265 
 
 Your impudence, you blush at what is right. 
 
 HAPPY, did sorrow seize on such alone ! 
 
 Not Prudence can defend, or Virtue save ; 
 
 Disease invades the chastest temperance ; 
 
 And punishment the guiltless ; and alarm, 270 
 
 Through thickest shades, pursues the fond of peace. 
 
 Man's caution often into danger turns, 
 
 And his guard, falling, crushes him to death. 
 
 Not Happiness itself makes good her name ; 
 
 Our very wishes give us not our wish. 275 
 
 How distant oft the thing we dote on most 
 
 From that for which we dote, felicity ! 
 
 The smoothest course of nature has its pains ; 
 
 And truest friends, through error, wound our rest. 
 
 Without misfortune, what calamities ! 280 
 
 And what hostilities, without a foe ! 
 
 Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth. 
 
 But endless is the list of human ills, 
 
 And sighs might sooner fail than cause to sigh. 
 
 A PART how small of the terraqueous globe 285 
 
 Is tenanted by man ! the rest a waste, 
 Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands ; 
 Wild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death ! 
 Such is earth's melancholy map ! But, far 
 More sad ! this earth is a true map of man. 290 
 
 So bounded are its haughty lord's delights 
 To Woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles toss, 
 Loud sorrows howl, envenom'd passions bite, 
 o 2
 
 16 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Ravenous calamities our vitals seize, 
 
 And threatening fate wide opens to devour. 295 
 
 WHAT then am I, who sorrow for myself? 
 
 In age, in infancy, from others' aid 
 
 Is all our hope ; to teach us to be kind : 
 
 That Nature's first, last lesson to mankind : 
 
 The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels. 300 
 
 More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalte ; 
 
 And conscious virtue mitigates the pang. 
 
 Nor Virtue, more than Prudence, bids me give 
 
 Swollen thought a second channel ; who divide, 
 
 They weaken too, the torrent of their grief. 305 
 
 Take then, world ! thy much-indebted tear : 
 
 How sad a sight is human happiness 
 
 To those whose thought can pierce beyond an hour ! 
 
 thou, whate'er thou art, whose heart exults ! 
 
 "\Vouldst thou I should congratulate thy fate 1 310 
 
 1 know thou wouldst ; thy pride demands it from me. 
 Let thy pride pardon, what thy nature needs, 
 
 The salutary censure of a friend. 
 
 Thou happy wretch ! by blindness art thou blest ; 
 
 By dotage dandled to perpetual smiles. 315 
 
 Know, smiler, at thy peril art thou pleased ; 
 
 Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain. 
 
 Misfortune, like a creditor severe, 
 
 But rises in demand for her delay ; 
 
 She makes a scourge of past prosperity, 320 
 
 To sting thee more, and double thy distress. 
 
 LORENZO, Fortune makes her court to thee. 
 
 Thy fond heart dances, while the siren sings. 
 
 Dear is thy welfare ; think me not unkind ; 
 
 I would not damp, but to secure, thy joys. 325 
 
 Think not that fear is sacred to the storm : 
 
 Stand on thy guard against the smiles of Fate.
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 17 
 
 Is Heaven tremendous in its frowns 1 Most sure ; 
 
 
 And in its favours formidable too : 
 
 
 Its favours here are trials, not rewards ; 
 
 330 
 
 A call to duty, not discharge from care ; 
 
 
 And should alarm us full as much as woes ; 
 
 
 Awake us to their cause and consequence ;* 
 
 
 And make us tremble, weigh'd with our desert ; 
 
 
 Awe Nature's tumult, and chastise her joys, 
 
 335 
 
 Lest, while we clasp, we kill them ; nay, invert 
 
 
 To worse than simple misery their charms. 
 
 
 Revolted joys, like foes in civil war, 
 
 
 Like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, 
 
 
 With rage envenom'd rise against our peace. 
 
 340 
 
 Beware what earth calls happiness ; beware 
 
 
 All joys, but joys that never can expire. 
 
 
 Who builds on less than an immortal base, 
 
 
 Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. 
 
 
 MINE died with thee, PHILANDER ! thy last sigh 
 
 345 
 
 Dissolved the charm ; the disenchanted earth 
 
 
 Lost all her lustre. Where her glittering towers 1 
 
 
 Her golden mountains, where ? All darken'd down 
 
 
 To naked waste ; a dreary vale of tears : 
 
 
 The great magician 's dead ! Thou poor, pale piece 
 
 350 
 
 Of out-cast earth, in darkness ! what a change 
 
 
 From yesterday ! Thy darling hope so near, 
 
 
 (Long-labour'd prize !) how ambition flush'd 
 
 
 Thy glowing cheek ! ambition, truly great, 
 
 
 Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within, 
 
 355 
 
 (Sly, treacherous miner !) working in the dark, 
 
 
 Smiled at thy well-concerted scheme, and beckon'd 
 
 
 The worm to riot on that rose so red, 
 
 
 Unfaded ere it fell ; one moment's prey ! 
 
 
 * " O'er our scann'd conduct give a jealous eye." 
 
 
 This verse follows in all the early quarto editions. EDIT. 
 
 
 c 3 

 
 18 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 MAN'S foresight is conditionally wise; 360 
 
 LORENZO ! wisdom into folly turns 
 
 Oft the first instant its idea fair 
 
 To labouring thought is born. How dim our eye ! 
 
 The present moment terminates our sight ; 
 
 Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the next ; 365 
 
 We penetrate, we prophesy in vain. 
 
 Time is dealt out by particles ; and each, 
 
 Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life, 
 
 By Fate's inviolable oath is sworn 
 
 Deep silence, " where eternity begins." 370 
 
 BY Nature's law, what may be, may be now ; 
 
 There 's no prerogative in human hours. 
 
 In human hearts what bolder thought can rise 
 
 Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn ? 
 
 Where is to-morrow 1 In another world. 375 
 
 For numbers this is certain ; the reverse 
 
 Is sure to none ; and yet on this Perhaps, 
 
 This Peradventure, infamous for lies, 
 
 As on a rock of adamant we build 
 
 Our mountain-hopes ; spin out * eternal schemes, 380 
 
 As we the Fatal Sisters could out-spin, 
 
 And, big with life's futurities, expire. 
 
 NOT e'en PHILANDER had bespoke his shroud. 
 
 Nor had he cause ; a warning was denied : 
 
 How many fall as sudden, not as safe ! 385 
 
 As sudden, though for years admonish'd home ! 
 
 Of human ills the last extreme beware; 
 
 Beware, LORENZO ! a slow-sudden death. 
 
 How dreadful that deliberate surprise ! 
 
 Be wise to-day, 't is madness to defer ; 390 
 
 Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 
 
 * This ia the reading of all the authentic editions, from 1741 to 1749, 
 as well as of the edition which Young himself superintended in 176i 
 Some modern impressions have substituted " our." EDIT.
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 19 
 
 Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life. 
 
 Procrastination is the thief of time ; 
 
 Year after year it steals, till all are fled, 
 
 And to the mercies of a moment leaves 395 
 
 The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 
 
 If not so frequent, would not this be strange 1 
 
 That 't is so frequent, this is stranger still. 
 
 OF man's miraculous mistakes, this bears 
 
 The palm, " That all men are about to live," 400 
 
 For ever on the brink of being born. 
 
 All pay themselves the compliment to think 
 
 They one day shall not drivel ; and their pride 
 
 On this reversion takes up ready praise, 
 
 At least their own ; their future selves applauds ; 405 
 
 How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! 
 
 Time lodged in their own hands is folly's vails ; 
 
 That lodged in Fate's, to wisdom they consign ; 
 
 The thing they can't but purpose they postpone. 
 
 'T is not in folly not to scorn a fool ; 410 
 
 And scarce in human wisdom to do more. 
 
 All promise is poor dilatory man, 
 
 And that through every stage : when young, indeed, 
 
 In full content we sometimes nobly rest, 
 
 Unanxious for ourselves ; and only wish, 415 
 
 As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 
 
 At thirty, man suspects himself a fool ; 
 
 Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; 
 
 At fifty, chides his infamous delay, 
 
 Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 420 
 
 In all the magnanimity of thought 
 
 Eesolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same. 
 
 AND why ] Because he thinks himself immortal. 
 All men think all men mortal but themselves ; 
 Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fate 425
 
 20 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread. 
 
 But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, 
 
 Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. 
 
 As from the wing no scar the sky retains, 
 
 The parted wave no furrow from the keel, 430 
 
 So dies in human hearts the thought of death. 
 
 E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds 
 
 O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. 
 
 Can I forget PHILANDER 1 ? That were strange. 
 
 my full heart ! But should I give it vent, 435 
 The longest night, though longer far, would fail, 
 
 And the lark listen to my midnight song. 
 
 THE sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the morn ; 
 Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast, 
 
 1 strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer 440 
 The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee, 
 
 And call the stars to listen : every star 
 
 Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. 
 
 Yet be not vain ; there are who thine excel, 
 
 And charm through distant ages. Wrapt in shade, 445 
 
 Prisoner of darkness ! to the silent hours, 
 
 How often I repeat their rage Divine, 
 
 To lull my griefs, and steal my heart from woe ! 
 
 I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire ; 
 
 Dark, though not blind, like thee, Maeonides ! 450 
 
 Or, Milton, thee ! Ah ! could I reach your strain ! 
 
 Or his who made Maeonides our own ! 
 
 Man ? too, he sung : immortal man I sing : 
 
 Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life ; 
 
 What now but immortality can please 1 455 
 
 had he press'd his theme, pursued the track 
 
 Which opens out of darkness into day ; 
 
 had he mounted on his wing of fire, 
 
 Soar'd where I sink, and sung immortal man ; 
 
 How had it bless'd mankind, and rescued me ! 460
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NiGHT IT, 
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 BCMBLT INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EAS1 
 OF WILMINGTON.
 
 23. 
 NIGHT II, 
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 "WHEN the cock crew, he wept," smote by that eye 
 
 Which looks on me, on all : that Power who bids 
 
 This midnight sentinel, with clarion shrill, 
 
 (Emblem of that which shall awake the dead,) 
 
 Rouse souls from slumber, into thoughts of heaven. 5 
 
 Shall I too weep 1 Where then is fortitude 1 
 
 And, fortitude abandon'd, where is man? 
 
 I know the terms on which he sees the light : 
 
 He that is born is listed ; life is war, 
 
 Eternal war with woe. Who bears it best, 10 
 
 Deserves it least. On other themes I '11 dwell. 
 
 LORENZO ! let me turn my thoughts on thee, 
 
 And thine on themes may profit ; profit there 
 
 Where most thy need : themes, too, the genuine growth 
 
 Of dear PHILANDER'S dust. He thus, though dead, 15 
 
 May still befriend. What themes ? Time's wondrous price, 
 
 Death, friendship, and PHILANDER'S^WZCIZ scene.* 
 
 So could I touch these themes as might obtain 
 
 Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengaged, 
 
 The good deed would delight me ; half-impress 20 
 
 On my dark cloud an Iris ; and from grief 
 
 Call glory. Dost thou mourn PHILANDER'S fate 1 
 
 * " Themes meet for man ! and meet at every hour ; 
 But most at this, at midnight, ever clad 
 In Death's own sables, silent as his realms, 
 And prone to weep, profuse of dewy tears 
 O'er Nature in her temporary tomb ! " 
 
 These five lines, in the early quarto editions, follow " Philander's final 
 
 scene," EDIT.
 
 24 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT II. 
 
 I know thou say'st it : says thy life the same ? 
 
 He mourns the dead who lives as they desire. 
 
 Where is that thrift,* that avarice of TIME, 25 
 
 (0 glorious avarice !) thought of death inspires, 
 
 As rumour'd robberies endear our gold 1 
 
 Time ! than gold more sacred ; more a load 
 
 Than lead to fools ; and fools reputed wise. 
 
 What moment granted man without account? 30 
 
 What years are squander'd, Wisdom's debt unpaid ! 
 
 Our wealth in days all due to that discharge. 
 
 Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he 's at the door, 
 
 Insidious Death ! should his strong hand arrest, 
 
 No composition sets the prisoner free. 36 
 
 Eternity's inexorable chain 
 
 Fast binds ; and vengeance claims the full arrear. 
 
 How late I shudder'd on the brink ! how late 
 
 Life call'd for her last refuge in despair ! 
 
 That time is mine, MEAD, to thee I owe ; 40 
 
 Fain would I pay thee with eternity. 
 
 But ill my genius answers my desire ; 
 
 My sickly song is mortal, past thy cure. 
 
 Accept the will ; that dies not with my strain. 
 
 FOB what calls thy disease, LORENZO ? Not 46 
 
 For jEsculapian, but for moral aid. 
 
 Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon. 
 
 Youth is not rich in time, it may be poor ; 
 
 Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay 
 
 No moment but in purchase of its worth ; 60 
 
 And what its worth, ask death-beds ; they can tell. 
 
 Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
 
 With holy hope of nobler time to come ; 
 
 Time higher-aim'd, still nearer the great mark 
 
 * " Thirtt" is the reading of the collected Works in 1762. EDIT.
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 25 
 
 Of men and angels, virtue more Divine. 55 
 
 Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain? 
 
 (These Heaven benign in vital union binds :) 
 
 And sport we like the natives of the bough, 
 
 When vernal suns inspire ? Amusement reigns 
 
 Man's great demand : to trifle is to live : 60 
 
 And is it then a trifle, too, to die ? 
 
 THOU say'st I preach, LORENZO ! 'T is confess'd. 
 
 What, if, for once, I preach thee quite awake ? 
 
 Who wants amusement in the flame of battle ? 
 
 Is it not treason to the soul immortal, 65 
 
 Her foes in arms, eternity the prize ] 
 
 Will toys amuse when medicines cannot cure ? 
 
 When spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes 
 
 Their lustre lose, and lessen in our sight, 
 
 (As lands and cities with their glittering spires, 70 
 
 To the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden storm 
 
 Thrown off" to sea, and soon to perish there,) 
 
 Will toys amuse ] No ; thrones will then be toys, 
 
 And earth and skies seem dust upon the scale. 
 
 KEDEEM we time ? Its loss we dearly buy. 75 
 
 What pleads Lorenzo for his high-prized sports ] 
 
 He pleads time's numerous blanks ; he loudly pleads 
 
 The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. 
 
 From whom those blanks and trifles but from thee 1 
 
 No blank, no trifle, Nature made, or meant. 80 
 
 Virtue, or purposed virtue, still be thine ; 
 
 This cancels thy complaint at once ; this leaves 
 
 In act no trifle, and no blank in time. 
 
 This greatens, fills, immortalizes all ; 
 
 This the blest art of turning all to gold ; 86 
 
 This the good heart's prerogative to raise 
 
 A royal tribute from the poorest hours ; 
 
 Immense revenue ! every moment pays.
 
 26 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 If nothing more than purpose in thy power, 
 
 Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed : 90 
 
 Who does the best his circumstance allows, 
 
 Does well, acts nobly ; angels could no more. 
 
 Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint ; 
 
 'T is not in things o'er thought to domineer. 
 
 Guard well thy thought ; our thoughts are heard in heaven. 
 
 ON all-important time, through every age, 96 
 
 Though much, and warm, the wise have urged, the man 
 
 Is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour. 
 
 "I've lost a day" the prince who nobly cried, 
 
 Had been an emperor without his crown ; 100 
 
 " Of Rome V say, rather, lord of human race : 
 
 He spoke as if deputed by mankind. 
 
 So should all speak : so Eeason speaks in all. 
 
 From the soft whispers of that god in man, 
 
 Why fly to Folly, why to Frenzy fly, 105 
 
 For rescue from the blessing we possess ? 
 
 Time, the supreme ! time is eternity ; 
 
 Pregnant with all eternity can give ; 
 
 Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile. 
 
 Who murders time, he crushes in the birth 110 
 
 A power ethereal, only not adored. 
 
 AH ! how unjust to Nature and himself 
 
 Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man ! 
 
 Like children babbling nonsense in their sports, 
 
 We censure Nature for a span too short ; 115 
 
 That span too short we tax as tedious too ; 
 
 Torture invention, all expedients tire, 
 
 To lash the lingering moments into speed, 
 
 And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves. 
 
 Art, brainless Art ! our furious charioteer, 120 
 
 (For Nature's voice unstifled would recall,) 
 
 Drives headlong towards the precipice of death ;
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 27 
 
 Death, most our dread ; death thus more dreadful made. 
 
 what a riddle of absurdity ! 
 
 
 Leisure is pain ; takes off our chariot- wheels ; 
 
 125 
 
 How heavily we drag the load of life ! 
 
 
 Blest leisure is our curse ; like that of Cain, 
 
 
 It makes us wander ; wander earth around 
 
 
 To fly that tyrant, Thought. As Atlas groan'd 
 
 
 The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour. 
 
 130 
 
 We cry for mercy to the next amusement ; 
 
 
 The next amusement mortgages our fields ; 
 
 
 Slight inconvenience ! Prisons hardly frown, 
 
 
 From hateful time if prisons set us free. 
 
 
 Yet when Death kindly tenders us relief, 
 
 135 
 
 We call him cruel : years to moments shrink, 
 
 
 Ages to years. The telescope is turn'd. 
 
 
 To man's false optics (from his folly false) 
 
 
 Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
 
 
 And seems to creep, decrepit with his age. 
 
 140 
 
 Behold him, when pass'd by ; what then is seen 
 
 
 But his broad pinions, swifter than the winds 1 
 
 
 And all mankind, in contradiction strong, 
 
 
 Kueful, aghast, cry out on his career. 
 
 
 LEAVE to thy foes these errors, and these ills ; 
 
 145 
 
 To Nature just, their cause and cure explore. 
 
 
 Not short Heaven's bounty, boundless our expense ; 
 
 
 No niggard, Nature ; men are prodigals.* 
 
 
 We waste, not use, our time ; we breathe, not live. 
 
 
 Time wasted is existence, used is life. 
 
 150 
 
 And bare existence man, to live ordain'd, 
 
 
 * " As bold Alphonsus threaten'd in his pride, 
 
 
 We throw away our suns, as made for sport, 
 
 
 And not to light us on our way to scenes 
 
 
 Whose lustre turns their lustre into shade." 
 
 
 These illustrative lines appear in the early quarto editions. EDIT. 
 
 
 D 2 

 
 28 KIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT II. 
 
 Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight. 
 
 And why 1 Since time was given for use, not waste, 
 
 Enjoin'd to fly, with tempest, tide, and stars, 
 
 To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man ; 155 
 
 Time's use was doom'd a pleasure ; waste, a pain ; 
 
 That man might feel his error, if unseen ; 
 
 And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure ; 
 
 Not, blundering, split on idleness for ease. 
 
 Life's cares are comforts ; such by Heaven design'd ; 1 60 
 
 He that has none, must make them, or be wretched. 
 
 Cares are employments ; and without employ 
 
 The soul is on a rack ; the rack of rest, 
 
 To souls most adverse ; action all their joy. 
 
 HERB, then, the riddle, mark'd above, unfolds : 165 
 
 Then time turns torment, when man turns a fool. 
 
 We rave, we wrestle with great Nature's plan ; 
 
 We thwart the Deity ; and 't is decreed, 
 
 Who thwart His will shall contradict their own. 
 
 Hence our unnatural quarrel with ourselves ; 170 
 
 Our thoughts at enmity ; our bosom-broil : 
 
 We push Time from us, and we wish him back ; 
 
 Lavish of lustrums, and yet fond of life ; 
 
 Life we think long and short ; Death seek and shun ; 
 
 Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, 175 
 
 United jar, and yet are loath to part. 
 
 THE dark days of vanity ! while here 
 
 How tasteless, and how terrible when gone ! 
 
 Gone! they ne'er go ; when past, they haunt us still ; 
 
 The spirit walks of every day deceased, 180 
 
 And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns. 
 
 Nor death nor life delight us. If time past, 
 
 And time possess'd, both pain us, what can please 1 
 
 That which the Deity to please ordain'd, 
 
 Time used. The man who consecrates his hours 185
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 29 
 
 By vigorous effort, and an honest aim, 
 
 At once he draws the sting of life and death ; 
 
 He walks with Nature, and her paths are peace. 
 
 OTJR error's cause and cure are seen : see next 
 Time's nature, origin, importance, speed ; 190 
 
 And thy great gain from urging his career. 
 All-sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, 
 He looks on time as nothing. Nothing else 
 Is truly man's : 't is Fortune's. Time 's a god. 
 Hast thou ne'er heard of Time's omnipotence? 195 
 
 For, or against, what wonders can he do ! 
 And will : to stand blank neuter he disdains. 
 Not on those terms was Time (Heaven's stranger !) sent 
 On his important embassy to man. 
 
 LORENZO ! no ; on the long-destined hour, 200 
 
 From everlasting ages growing ripe, 
 That memorable hour of wondrous birth, 
 When the DREAD SIRE, on emanation bent, ' 
 And big with Nature, rising in his might, 
 Call'd forth Creation, (for then Time was born,) 205 
 
 By Godhead streaming through a thousand worlds : 
 Not on those terms, from the great days of heaven, 
 From old Eternity's mysterious orb, 
 Was Time cut off, and cast beneath the skies ; 
 The Skies, which watch him in his new abode, 210 
 
 Measuring his motions by revolving spheres ; 
 That horologe machinery Divine. 
 Hours, Days, and Months, and Years, his children, play 
 Like numerous wings around him, as he flies : 
 Or, rather, as unequal plumes, they shape 215 
 
 His ample pinions, swift as darted flame, 
 To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest, 
 And join anew Eternity his sire ; 
 In his immutability to nest, 
 
 When worlds, that count his circles now, unhinged, 220 
 D 3
 
 30 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IL 
 
 (Fate the loud signal sounding,) headlong rush 
 To timeless Night and Chaos, whence they rose. 
 
 WHY spur the speedy 1 Why with levities 
 
 New-wing thy short, short day's too rapid flight ? 
 
 Know'st thou or what thou dost, or what is done 1 225 
 
 Man flies from time, and time from man ; too soon 
 
 In sad divorce this double flight must end ; 
 
 And then, where are we 1 where, LORENZO, then 
 
 Thy sports *? thy pomps 1 I grant thee, in a state 
 
 Not unambitious ; in the ruffled shroud, 230 
 
 Thy Parian tomb's triumphant arch beneath. 
 
 Has Death his fopperies 1 Then well may Life 
 
 Put on her plume, and in her rainbow shine. 
 
 YE well-array'd ! ye lilies of our land ! 
 
 Ye lilies male, who neither toil, nor spin, 235 
 
 (As sister lilies might,) if not so wise 
 
 As Solomon, more sumptuous to the sight ! 
 
 Ye delicate ! who nothing can support, 
 
 Yourselves most insupportable ! for whom 
 
 The winter rose must blow, the Sun put on 240 
 
 A brighter beam in Leo ; silky-soft 
 
 Favonius breathe still softer, or be chid ; 
 
 And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song, 
 
 And robes, and notions, framed in foreign looms ! 
 
 ye LORENZOS of our age! who deem 245 
 
 One moment unamused a misery 
 
 Not made for feeble man ; who call aloud 
 
 For every bauble drivell'd o'er by sense ; 
 
 For rattles, and conceits of every cast, 
 
 For change of follies, and relays of joy, 250 
 
 To drag you patient through the tedious length 
 
 Of a short winter's day ; say, sages ; say, 
 
 Wit's oracles ; say, dreamers of gay dreams !
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 31 
 
 How will you weather an eternal night, 
 
 Where such expedients fail ]* 255 
 
 TREACHEROUS Conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
 
 On rose and myrtle, lull'd with siren song ; 
 
 While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop 
 
 On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein, 
 
 And give us up to licence, unrecall'd, 260 
 
 Unmark'd ; see,t from behind her secret stand, 
 
 The sly informer minutes every fault, 
 
 And her dread diary with horror fills. 
 
 Not the gross act alone employs her pen ; 
 
 She reconnoitres Fancy's airy band, 265 
 
 A watchful foe ! the formidable spy, 
 
 Listening, o'erhears the whispers of our camp ; 
 
 Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
 
 And steals our embryos of iniquity. 
 
 As all-rapacious usurers conceal 270 
 
 Their Doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs ; 
 
 Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats 
 
 Us spendthrifts of inestimable time ; 
 
 Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied ; 
 
 In leaves more durable than leaves of brass, 275 
 
 Writes our whole history ; which Death shall read 
 
 In every pale delinquent's private ear ; 
 
 And Judgment publish ; publish to more worlds 
 
 Than this ; and endless Age in groans resound. 
 
 LORENZO, such that sleeper in thy breast ! 280 
 
 Such is her slumber ; and her vengeance such 
 
 For slighted counsel ; such thy future peace ! 
 
 And think'st thou still thou canst be wise too soon 1 ? 
 
 # " Where such expedients fail ? where Wit 's a fool, 
 
 Mirth mourns, Dreams vanish, Laughter drops a tear." 
 This is the reading of the first quarto impression. EDIT. 
 
 t In the early editions As is found instead of See. EDIT.
 
 32 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 BUT why on Time so lavish is my song] 
 
 On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school, 285 
 
 To teach her sons herself. Each night we die ; 
 
 Each morn are born anew : each day a life ! 
 
 And shall we kill each day 1 If trifling kills, 
 
 Sure vice must butcher. what heaps of slain 
 
 Cry out for vengeance on us ! Time destroy'd 290 
 
 Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt. 
 
 Time flies, Death urges, knells call, Heaven invites, 
 
 Hell threatens : all exerts ; in effort, all ; 
 
 More than creation labours ! labours more ! 
 
 And is there in creation what, amidst 295 
 
 This tumult universal, wing'd despatch, 
 
 And ardent energy, supinely yawns 1 
 
 Man sleeps, and man alone ; and man, whose fate, 
 
 Fate irreversible, entire, extreme, 
 
 Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulf 300 
 
 A moment trembles ; drops ! and man, for whom 
 
 All else is in alarm ; man, the sole cause 
 
 Of this surrounding storm ! and yet he sleeps, 
 
 As the storm rock'd to rest. " Throw years away]" 
 
 Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seize ; 305 
 
 Heaven 's on their wing : a moment we may wish 
 
 When worlds want wealth to buy. Bid Day stand still, 
 
 Bid him drive back his car,* and re-import 
 
 The period past, re-give the given hour. 
 
 LORKNZO, more than miracles we want : 310 
 
 LORENZO for yesterdays to come ! 
 
 SUCH is the language of the man awake ; 
 His ardour such for what oppresses thee. 
 
 * " Bid him drive back his car, recall, retake 
 Fate's hasty prey : implore him, Re-import 
 The period past," &c. 
 This is the reading of the early quarto editions. EDIT.
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 33 
 
 And is his ardour vain, LORENZO? No; 
 
 That more than miracle the gods indulge : 815 
 
 To-day is yesterday return'd ; return'd 
 
 Full-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, 
 
 And reinstate us on the rock of peace. 
 
 Let it not share its predecessor's fate ; 
 
 Nor, like its elder sisters, die a fool. 320 
 
 Shall it evaporate in fume 1 fly off 
 
 Fuliginous, and stain us deeper still 1 
 
 Shall we be poorer for the plenty pour*d 1 
 
 More wretched for the clemencies of Heaven ? 
 
 WHERE shall I find him 1 Angels ! tell me where. 325 
 
 You know him : he is near you : point him out : 
 
 Shall I see glories beaming from his brow, 
 
 Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers 1 
 
 Tour golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed 
 
 Protection ; now are waving in applause 330 
 
 To that blest Son of Foresight ! Lord of Fate ! 
 
 That awful Independent on To-morrow ! 
 
 Whose work is done ; who triumphs in the past ; 
 
 Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile ; 
 
 Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly ; 335 
 
 That common, but opprobrious lot ! Past hours, 
 
 If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight, 
 
 If folly bounds our prospect by the grave, 
 
 All feeling of futurity benumb'd ; 
 
 All god-like passion for eternals quench'd ; 340 
 
 All relish of realities expired ; 
 
 Renounced all correspondence with the skies ; 
 
 Our freedom chain'd ; quite wingless our desire ; 
 
 In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar ; 
 
 Prone to the centre ; crawling in the dust ; 845 
 
 Dismounted every great and glorious aim ; 
 
 Embruted every faculty Divine ; 
 
 Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world :
 
 34 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 The world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls, 
 
 Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire 350 
 
 To reach the distant skies, and triumph there 
 
 On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changed ; 
 
 Though we from earth, ethereal they that fell. 
 
 Such veneration due, man, to man. 
 
 WHO venerate themselves, the world despise. &5o 
 
 For what, gay friend, is this escutcheon'd world, 
 
 Which hangs out DEATH in one eternal night ] 
 
 A night that glooms us in the noon-tide ray, 
 
 And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud. 
 
 Life's little stage is a small eminence, 360 
 
 Inch-high the grave above ; that home of man, 
 
 Where dwells the multitude : we gaze around ; 
 
 We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while 
 
 We sigh, we sink, and are what we deplored : 
 
 Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot ! 365 
 
 Is Death at distance ? No : he has been on thee ; 
 
 And given sure earnest of his final blow. 
 
 Those hours that lately smiled, where are they now 1 
 
 Pallid to thought, and ghastly ! drown'd, all drown'd 
 
 In that great deep, which nothing disembogues ! 370 
 
 And, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown. 
 
 The rest are on the wing : how fleet their flight ! 
 
 Already has the fatal train took fire ; 
 
 A moment, and the world 's blown up to thee, 
 
 The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. 375 
 
 'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours ; * 
 And ask them, what report they bore to Heaven ; 
 
 * " Time passes like a post : we nothing send 
 
 But poor Belleroplion's express, our doom." 
 
 In the early quarto editions, the paragraph commences with these two 
 lines. EDIT.
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 35 
 
 And how they might have borne more welcome news. 
 
 Their answers form what men Experience call ; 
 
 If Wisdom's friend, her best ; if not, worst foe. 380 
 
 reconcile them ! Kind Experience cries, 
 
 " There 's nothing here, but what as nothing weighs ; 
 
 The more our joy, the more we know it vain, 
 
 And by success are tutor'd to despair." 
 
 Nor is it only thus, but must be so. 385 
 
 Who knows not this, though grey, is still a child. 
 
 Loose then from earth the grasp of fond desire, 
 
 Weigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. 
 
 ART thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage, 
 
 Nor give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes 1 390 
 
 Since, by life's passing breath, blown up from earth, 
 
 Light, as the summer's dust, we take in air 
 
 A moment's giddy flight, and fall again ; 
 
 Join the dull mass, increase the trodden soil, 
 
 And sleep till Earth herself shall be no more ; 395 
 
 Since, then, (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown,) 
 
 We, sore amazed, from out earth's ruins crawl, 
 
 And rise to fate extreme of foul or fair, 
 
 As man's own choice, (controller of the skies !) 
 
 As man's despotic will, perhaps one hour, 400 
 
 (0 how omnipotent is time !) decrees ; 
 
 Should not each warning give a strong alarm ] 
 
 Warning, far less than that of bosom torn 
 
 From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead ! 
 
 Should not each dial strike us as we pass, 405 
 
 Portentous, as the written wall, which struck, 
 
 O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale, 
 
 Erewhile high-flush'd with insolence and wine ? 
 
 Like that the dial speaks ; and points to thee, 
 
 LORENZO ! loath to break thy banquet up : 410 
 
 " man, thy kingdom is departing from thee ; 
 
 And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade."
 
 86 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT II. 
 
 Its silent language such : nor need'st thou call 
 
 Thy Magi to decipher what it means. 
 
 Know, like the Median, Fate is in thy walls : 415 
 
 Dost ask, " How 1" "Whence?" Belshazzar-like, amazed 1 
 
 Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death ; 
 
 Life feeds * the murderer. Ingrate ! he thrives 
 
 On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. 
 
 BUT here, LORENZO, the delusion lies ; 420 
 
 That solar shadow, as it measures life, 
 
 It life resembles too : Life speeds away 
 
 From point to point, though seeming to stand still. 
 
 The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth : 
 
 Too subtle is the movement to be seen ; 425 
 
 Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. 
 
 Warnings point out our danger ; gnomons, time : 
 
 As these are useless when the sun is set ; 
 
 So those, but when more glorious Reason shines. 
 
 Reason should judge in all ; in Reason's eye, 430 
 
 That sedentary shadow travels hard. 
 
 But snch our gravitation to the wrong, 
 
 So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
 
 'T is later with the wise than he 's aware ; 
 
 A WILMINGTON goes slower than the sun : 435 
 
 And all mankind mistake their time of day ; 
 
 E'en age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown 
 
 In furrow'd brows. So gentle life's descent, 
 
 We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. 
 
 We take fair days in Winter for the Spring ; 440 
 
 And turn our blessings into bane. Since oft 
 
 Man must compute that age he cannot feel, 
 
 He scarce believes he 's older for his years. 
 
 Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store 
 
 * " Peelt" is the reading of the collected Works in 1762; but 
 "/eedt," in all the editions prior to that date, seems most in agreement 
 with the context. EDIT.
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 37 
 
 One disappointment sure, to crown the rest, 445 
 
 The disappointment of a promised hour. 
 
 OR this, or similar, PHILANDER ! thou 
 
 Whose mind was moral as the Preacher's tongue, 
 
 And strong to wield all science worth the name ; 
 
 How often we talk'd down the summer's sun, 450 
 
 And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream ! 
 
 How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve, 
 
 By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth, 
 
 Best found, so sought ; to the recluse more coy ! 
 
 Thoughts disentangle, passing o'er the lip ; 455 
 
 Clean runs the thread ; if not, 't is thrown away, 
 
 Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song ; 
 
 Song, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains 
 
 The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires ; 
 
 Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane. 460 
 
 KNOW'ST thou, LORENZO, what a friend contains ? 
 
 As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers, 
 
 So men, from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight ; 
 
 Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die. 
 
 Hast thou no friend to set thy mind * abroach ? 465 
 
 Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want air, 
 
 And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. 
 
 Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied ; 
 
 Speech, thought's canal ! speech, thought's criterion too ! 
 
 Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross ; 470 
 
 When coin'd in word, we know its real worth. 
 
 If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 
 
 'T will buy thee benefit ; perhaps, renown. 
 
 Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd : 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto editions, in this place, is mine t 
 which seems to find some countenance in the sentence which follows: 
 " Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross." EDIT. 
 E
 
 38 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT II. 
 
 Teaching we learn ; and giving we retain 
 
 475 
 
 The births of intellect ; when dumb, forgot. 
 
 
 Speech ventilates our intellectual fire ; 
 
 
 Speech burnishes our mental magazine, 
 
 
 Brightens for ornament, and whets for use. 
 
 
 What numbers, sheathed in erudition, lie, 
 
 480 
 
 Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes, 
 
 
 And rusted in ; who might have borne an edge, 
 
 
 And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech ; 
 
 
 If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue ! 
 
 
 'T is thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push 
 
 
 Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, 
 
 486 
 
 And defecates the student's standing pool. 
 
 
 IN contemplation is his proud resource ? 
 
 
 'T is poor as proud, by converse unsustain'd. 
 
 
 Kude thought runs wild in contemplation's field ; 
 
 490 
 
 Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit 
 
 
 Of due restraint ; and emulation's spur 
 
 
 Gives graceful energy, by rivals awed. 
 
 
 'T is converse qualifies for solitude, 
 
 
 As exercise for salutary rest. 
 
 495 
 
 By that untutor'd, Contemplation raves ;* 
 
 
 And Nature's fool by Wisdom's is outdone. 
 
 
 WISDOM, though richer than Peruvian mines, 
 
 
 And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, 
 
 
 What is she but the means of happiness 1 
 
 500 
 
 That unobtain'd, than Folly more a fool ; 
 
 
 A melancholy fool, without her bells. 
 
 
 Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives 
 
 
 * " By that untutor'd, Contemplation raves 
 
 
 A lunar prince, or famish'd beggar dies ; 
 
 
 And Nature's fool," &c. 
 
 
 This is the reading of the early quarto impressions. EDIT. 

 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 39 
 
 The precious end which makes our wisdom wise.* 
 
 Nature, in zeal for human amity, 505 
 
 Denies or damps an undivided joy. 
 
 Joy is an import ; joy is an exchange ; 
 
 Joy flies monopolists ; it calls for two ; 
 
 Rich fruit, heaven-planted, never pluck'd by one ! 
 
 Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give 510 
 
 To social man true relish of himself. 
 
 Full on ourselves descending in a line, 
 
 Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight : 
 
 Delight intense is taken by rebound ; 
 
 Reverberated pleasures fire the breast. 515 
 
 CELESTIAL Happiness, whene'er she stoops 
 
 To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds, 
 
 And one alone, to make her sweet amends 
 
 For absent heaven, the bosom of a friend ; 
 
 Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, 520 
 
 Each other's pillow to repose Divine. 
 
 Beware the counterfeit : in Passion's flame 
 
 Hearts melt ; but melt like ice, soon harder froze. 
 
 True love strikes root in Reason, Passion's foe : 
 
 Virtue alone entenders us for life ; 525 
 
 I wrong her much entenders us for ever : 
 
 Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most foir 
 
 Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire, 
 
 And emulously rapid in her race. 
 
 O the soft enmity ! endearing strife ! 530 
 
 This carries friendship to her noon-tide point, 
 
 And gives the rivet of eternity. 
 
 FROM Friendship, which outlives my former themes, 
 Glorious survivor of old Time and Death ! 
 
 * " Friendship the means, and friendship richly gives 
 The precious end, which makes our wisdom wise." 
 This is the reading of the early impressions. EDIT. 
 
 E 2
 
 40 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 From Friendship, thus, that flower of heavenly seed, 535 
 The wise extract earth's most Hyblasan bliss, 
 Superior wisdom, crown'd with smiling joy.* 
 
 BUT for whom blossoms this Elysian flower ? 
 
 Abroad they find, who cherish it at home. 
 
 LORENZO, pardon what my love extorts, 540 
 
 An honest love, and not afraid to frown. 
 
 Though choice of follies fasten on the great, 
 
 None clings more obstinate, than fancy fond 
 
 That sacred Friendship is their easy prey ; 
 
 Caught by the wafture of a golden lure, 545 
 
 Or fascination of a high-born smile. 
 
 Their smiles the great and the coquette throw out 
 
 For others' hearts, tenacious of their own ; 
 
 And we no less of ours, when such the bait. 
 
 Ye Fortune's cofferers, ye powers of wealth,+ 550 
 
 Can gold gain friendship ? Impudence of hope ! 
 
 As well mere man an angel might beget. 
 
 Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 
 
 LORENZO ! pride repress ; nor hope to find 
 
 A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 555 
 
 All like the purchase ; few the price will pay ; 
 
 And this makes friends such miracles below. 
 
 WHAT, if (since daring on so nice a theme) 
 
 I show thee Friendship delicate as dear, 
 
 Of tender violations apt to die ? 560 
 
 Eeserve will wound it, and Distrust destroy. 
 
 Deliberate on all things with thy friend. 
 
 * The early impressions contain the following additional lines : 
 
 " For Joy, from Friendship born, abounds in smiles: 
 
 O store it in the soul's most golden cell ! " EDIT. 
 
 t " You do your rent-roll* most felonious wrong 
 
 By taking our attachment to yoursclvet." 
 These verses occur In all the early editions. EDIT.
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 41 
 
 But since friends grow not thick on every bough, 
 
 Nor every friend unrotten at the core ; 
 
 First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself ; 565 
 
 Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, 
 
 N T or jealous of the chosen : fixing, fix ; 
 
 Judge before friendship ; then confide till death. 
 
 Well for thy friend ; but nobler far for thee ; 
 
 How gallant danger for earth's highest prize ! 570 
 
 A friend is worth all hazards we can run. 
 
 " Poor is the friendless master of a world : 
 
 A world in purchase for a friend is gain." 
 
 So sung he : (angels hear that angel sing ! 
 
 Angels from friendship gather half their joy :) 575 
 
 So sung PHILANDER, as his friend went round 
 
 In the rich ichor, in the generous blood 
 
 Of BACCHUS, purple god of joyous wit, 
 
 A brow solute, and ever-laughing eye. 
 
 He drank long health and virtue to his friend ; 580 
 
 His friend, who warm'd him more, who more inspired. 
 
 Friendship 's the wine of life ; but friendship new 
 
 (Not such was his) is neither strong nor pure. 
 
 for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, 
 
 And elevating spirit of a friend, 585 
 
 For twenty summers ripening by my side ; 
 
 All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; 
 
 All social virtues rising in his soul, 
 
 As crystal clear, and smiling as they rise ! 
 
 Here nectar flows ; it sparkles in our sight ; 590 
 
 Eich to the taste, and genuine from the heart. 
 
 High-flavour'd bliss for gods ! on earth how rare ! 
 
 Ou earth how lost ! PHILANDER is no more. 
 
 THINK'ST thou the theme intoxicates my song ] 
 
 Am I too warm 1 Too warm I cannot be. 5P5 
 
 1 loved him much ; but now I love him more. 
 
 E 3
 
 42 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Like birds, whose beauties languish, half conceal'd, 
 
 Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes 
 
 Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold ; 
 
 How blessings brighten as they take their flight ! 600 
 
 His flight PHILANDER took ; his upward flight, 
 
 If ever soul ascended. Had he dropp'd, 
 
 (That eagle genius !) 0, had he let fall 
 
 One feather as he flew, I then had wrote 
 
 What friends might flatter, prudent foes forbear, 605 
 
 llivals scarce damn, and ZOILUS reprieve. 
 
 Yet what I can, I must : it were profane 
 
 To quench a glory lighted at the skies, 
 
 And cast in shadows his illustrious close. 
 
 Strange, the theme most affecting, most sublime, 610 
 
 Momentous most to man, should sleep unsung ! 
 
 And yet it sleeps, by genius unawaked, 
 
 Paynim or Christian, to the blush of wit. 
 
 Man's highest triumph, man's profoundest fall, 
 
 The death-bed of the just, is yet undrawn 615 
 
 By mortal hand ; it merits a Divine ! 
 
 Angels should paint it, angels ever there ; 
 
 There, on a post of honour, and of joy. 
 
 DARE I presume, then ? But PHILANDER bids ; 
 
 And glory tempts, and inclination calls. 620 
 
 Yet am I struck ; as struck the soul beneath 
 
 Aerial groves' impenetrable gloom ; 
 
 Or in some mighty ruin's solemn shade ; 
 
 Or gazing by pale lamps on high-born dust, 
 
 In vaults ; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings ! 625 
 
 Or at the midnight altar's hallow'd flame. 
 
 It is religion to proceed : I pause 
 
 And enter, awed, the temple of my theme. 
 
 Is it his death-bed ] No : it is his shrine : 
 
 Behold him there just rising to a god. 630

 
 The chamber where the gooi. man meets ms fate. 
 
 Is ;prrrale(fe3 "beyond the common walk 
 
 Of virtuous life, quite in the Tertfe of heaven. 
 
 : Unt.631 
 
 . 
 
 Tegg k C?
 
 ON TIMH, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 43 
 
 THE chamber where the good man meets his fate 
 
 Is privileged beyond the common walk 
 
 Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. 
 
 Fly, ye profane ! if not, draw near with awe, 
 
 Receive the blessing, and adore the chance 635 
 
 That threw in this Bethesda your disease : 
 
 If unrestored by this, despair your cure. 
 
 For here resistless Demonstration dwells ; 
 
 A death-bed 's a detector of the heart. 
 
 Here tired Dissimulation drops her mask 640 
 
 Through Life's grimace, that mistress of the scene ! 
 
 Here real and apparent are the same. 
 
 You see the man ; you see his hold on heaven, 
 
 If sound his virtue, as PHILANDER'S sound : 
 
 Heaven waits not the last moment ; owns her friends 645 
 
 On this side death ; and points them out to men, 
 
 A lecture, silent, but of sovereign power ! 
 
 To vice, confusion ; and to virtue, peace. 
 
 WHATEVER farce the boastful hero plays, 
 
 Virtue alone has majesty in death ; 650 
 
 And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. 
 
 PHILANDER ! he severely frown'd on thcc : 
 
 " No warning given ! unceremonious fate ! 
 
 A sudden rush from life's meridian joys ! 
 
 A wrench from all we love, from all we are ! 655 
 
 A restless bed of pain ! a plunge opaque 
 
 Beyond conjecture, feeble Nature's dread ! 
 
 Strong Reason's shudder at the dark unknown ! 
 
 A sun extinguish'd, a just opening grave ! 
 
 And, ! the last, last what 1 (can words express, 660 
 
 Thought reach it T) the last silence of a friend !" * 
 
 Where are those horrors, that amazement where, 
 
 * " And O ! the last, last what? (can words express, 
 
 Thought reach ?) the last, last silence of a friend ! " 
 These slight variations occur in the early impressions. EDIT.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 This hideous group of ills, which singly shock, 
 Demand from man ? I thought him MAN till now. 
 
 THKOUGH Nature's wreck, through vanquish'd agonies, 665 
 
 (Like the stars struggling through this midnight gloom,) 
 
 What gleams of joy, what more than human peace ! 
 
 Where the frail mortal, the poor abject worm ] 
 
 No, not in death the mortal to be found. 
 
 His conduct is a legacy for all ; 670 
 
 Richer than Mammon's for his single heir. 
 
 His comforters he comforts ; great in ruin, 
 
 With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields, 
 
 His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. 
 
 How our hearts burnt within us at the scene ! 675 
 
 Whence this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to man 3 
 
 His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
 
 His final hour brings glory to his God ! 
 
 Man's glory Heaven vouchsafes to call her own. 
 
 We gaze, we weep mix'd tears of grief and joy ! 630 
 
 Amazement strikes, devotion bursts to flame ! 
 
 Christians adore, and infidels believe ! 
 
 As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, 
 
 Detains the sun, illustrious from its height ; 
 
 While rising vapours and descending shades, 685 
 
 With damps, and darkness, drown the spacious vale ; 
 
 Undamp'd by doubt, undarken'd by despair, 
 
 PHILANDER thus augustly rears bis head, 
 
 At that black hour which general horror sheds 
 
 On the low level of the' inglorious throng : 690 
 
 Sweet Peace, and heavenly Hope, and humble Joy, 
 
 Divinely beam on his exalted soul, 
 
 Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies, 
 
 With incommunicable lustre bright.* 
 
 # " LORENZO ! such the good man's misery! 
 Uow dim the ray, the lustre now how pale,
 
 OH TIME, DEATH, FRIENDSHIP. 45 
 
 Of tarnish'd pageantries, of wither'd joy, 
 Of beggar'd opulence, disgraced renown, 
 Decp-darken'd empire, conquest overcome ! 
 Envy's bright butts, the pant of every breast ! 
 Envy, the greatest idiot of all crimes ! 
 Who pains herself for that would pain her more. 
 Is there on earth what can absolve her ? Yes : 
 One radiant mark, the death-bed of the just : 
 That gaze of angels, that glad fame of heaven, 
 That joy to joy celestial ! O my soul, 
 Bless'd, ravish'd with this providential scene ! 
 Heaven plans her gracious stratagems for all. 
 A scene so strong to strike, so sweet to charm, 
 So great to raise, so heavenly to inspire, 
 So solid to support fair Virtue's throne, 
 What transport thine to see, what zeal to sing ! 
 Sing first, and send it through the souls of men ; 
 And sent through theirs with ease, if from our own. 
 Nor hast them sung in vain : PHILANDER hears, 
 LORENZO feels, thy song. LORENZO feels, 
 Or he, and not PHILANDER, is the dead. 
 Life, take thy chance. But, O for such an end .' 
 There point, my wishes ! centre there, and burn. 
 
 SMILE you, ye poor dependents on a pulse ? 
 
 A pulse your salient god ! as that decrees, 
 
 Pleasured or pain'd, exalted or forlorn ! 
 
 Smile on, and prove your misery by your smiles. 
 
 As smiles mistaken, what tear half so sad ? 
 
 Is it your pride ? Would you be praised for this ? 
 
 Bcorn'd be the man who thinks himself a brute, 
 
 Affronts his species, and his God blasphemes ! 
 
 Tile laugher, at whom Pity cannot laugh ; 
 
 Bcorner of all but what deserves his scorn ; 
 
 Who thinks it is ingenious to be mad, 
 
 And is quite fool enough to be a wit ! 
 
 Wits spare not Heaven, O WILMINGTON ! nor thee." 
 In all the quarto editions, these verses close the Second Night. Thej 
 were omitted in the eighth edition, 8vo., in 1749. EDIT.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS, 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT III. 
 
 NARCISSA. 
 
 HUMBLY IN80KIBED TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF 
 PORTLAND. 
 
 Jynoscenla quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes. VIRO.
 
 49 
 NIGHT III. 
 
 NARCISSA. 
 
 FROM dreams, where Thought in Fancy's maze runs mad, 
 
 To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man, 
 
 Once more I wake ; and at the destined hour, 
 
 Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, 
 
 I keep my assignation with my woe. 5 
 
 0, LOST to virtue, lost to manly thought, 
 
 Lost to the noble sallies of the soul, 
 
 Who think it solitude to be alone ! 
 
 Communion sweet ! communion large and high ! 
 
 Our reason, guardian angel, and our God ! 10 
 
 Then nearest these, when others most remote ; 
 
 And all, ere long, shall be remote but these. 
 
 How dreadful then to meet them all alone, 
 
 A stranger, unacknowledged, unapproved ! 
 
 Now woo them, wed them, bind them to thy breast : 15 
 
 To win thy wish, creation has no more. 
 
 Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend 
 
 But friends how mortal ! dangerous the desire.* 
 
 TAKE PHOSBUS to yourselves, ye basking bards ! 
 
 Inebriate at fair Fortune's fountain-head, 20 
 
 * "Alone indeed the banish'd from himself, 
 By day's intrusions loud, and rude assaults, 
 A tide of tumult, and a storm of tongues." 
 
 In the early quarto editions these verses formed the commencement of 
 the next paragraph, but were omitted in the octavo impression of 1749. 
 EDIT. 
 
 P
 
 60 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And reeling through the wilderness of joy; 
 
 Where Sense runs savage, broke from Reason's chain, 
 
 And sings false peace, till smother'd by the palL 
 
 My fortune is unlike, unlike my song, 
 
 Unlike the deity my song invokes. 25 
 
 I to Day's soft-eyed sister pay my court, 
 
 (ENDTMION'S rival !) and her aid implore ; 
 
 Now first implored in succour to the Muse. 
 
 THOU who didst lately borrow CYNTHIA'S form,* 
 
 And modestly forego thine own ! thou 30 
 
 Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! 
 
 Say, why not CYNTHIA, patroness of song ? 
 
 As thou her crescent, she thy character 
 
 Assumes ; still more a goddess by the change. 
 
 ARE there demurring wits, who dare dispute 85 
 
 This revolution in the world inspired ? 
 
 Ye train Pierian ! to the lunar sphere, 
 
 In silent hour, address your ardent call 
 
 For aid immortal ; less her brother's right. 
 
 She, with the spheres harmonious, nightly leads 40 
 
 The mazy dance, and hears their matchless strain ; 
 
 A strain for gods, denied to mortal ear. 
 
 Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of heaven ! 
 
 What title, or what name, endears thee most 1 
 
 " CYNTHIA," " C YLLENB," " PHCEBE 1" or dost hear, 45 
 
 With higher gust, "fair PORTLAND of the skies ]") 
 
 * At the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade. 
 
 t This noble and beautiful lady was the daughter of Edward, the 
 second Earl of Oxford, and had been married to the Duke of Portland 
 about seven years before this extravagant dedication to her was written. 
 Young, witty, and learned, Her Grace seems to have disapproved of the 
 curious niche in which the poet had placed her, between "the com- 
 munion sweet" with "our reason, guardian angel, and our God," and 
 the affecting reflections on the death of Narcissa ; for she would not
 
 NARCISSA. 61 
 
 Is that the soft enchantment calls thee down, 
 
 More powerful than of old Circean charm ] 
 
 Come ; but from heavenly banquets with thee bring 
 
 The soul of song, and whisper in mine ear 60 
 
 The theft divine ; or in propitious dreams 
 
 (For dreams are thine) transfuse it through the breast 
 
 Of thy first votary but not thy last, 
 
 If, like thy namesake, thou art ever kind. 
 
 AND kind thou wilt be, kind on such a theme ; 65 
 
 A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme, 
 
 Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair ! 
 
 A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul 
 
 'T was night ; on her fond hopes perpetual night ; 
 
 A night which struck a damp, a deadlier damp 60 
 
 Than that which smote me from PHILANDER'S tomb. 
 
 NARCISSA follows, ere his tomb is closed. 
 
 Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
 
 They love a train ; they tread each other's heel : 
 
 Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 65 
 
 The grief that started from my lids for him ; 
 
 Seizes the faithless, alienated tear, 
 
 Or shares it ere it falls. So frequent Death, 
 
 Sorrow he more than causes, he confounds ; 
 
 For human sighs his rival strokes contend, 70 
 
 And make distress distraction. PHILANDER ! 
 
 What was thy fate ? A double fate to me ; 
 
 Portent and pain ! a menace and a blow ! 
 
 Like the black raven hovering o'er my peace, 
 
 Not less a bird of omen than of prey. 75 
 
 allow more than the initial letter of her name to be used. Our author, 
 however, contrived to fix her identity, among her contemporaries, by 
 the note, in which they were informed that she was the lady who " bor- 
 rowed Cynthia's form ""at the Duke of Norfolk's masquerade;" and 
 in the first octavo edition, of 1749, he ventured to designate her more 
 
 particularly in this form, P D. EDIT. 
 
 F 2
 
 52 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIOHT IIL 
 
 It call'd NARCISSA long before her hour ; 
 
 It call'd her tender soul by break of bliss, 
 
 From the first blossom, from the buds of joy; 
 
 Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves 
 
 In this inclement clime of human life. 80 
 
 SWEET harmonist ! and beautiful as sweet ! 
 
 And young as beautiful ! and soft as young ! 
 
 And gay as soft ! and innocent as gay ! 
 
 And happy (if aught happy here) as good ! 
 
 For fortune fond had built her nest on high. 85 
 
 Like birds quite exquisite of note and plume, 
 
 Pransfix'd by Fate, (who loves a lofty mark,) 
 
 How from the summit of the grove she fell, 
 
 And left it unharmonious ! all its charm 
 
 Extinguish'd in the wonders of her song ! 90 
 
 Her song still vibrates in my ravish'd ear, 
 
 Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain 
 
 (0 to forget her !) thrilling * through my heart ! 
 
 SONG, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy ! this group 
 
 Of bright ideas, flowers of paradise, 95 
 
 As yet unforfeit, in one blaze we bind, 
 
 Kneel, and present it to the skies ; as all 
 
 We guess of heaven : and these were all her own. 
 
 And she was mine ; and I was was most blcss'd r 
 
 Gay title of the deepest misery ! 100 
 
 As bodies grow more ponderous robb'd of life ; 
 
 Good lost weighs more in grief, than gain'd in joy. 
 
 Like blossom'd trees o'erturn'd by vernal storm, 
 
 Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay ; 
 
 And if in death still lovely, lovelier there ; 105 
 
 Far lovelier ! Pity swells the tide of love. 
 
 And will not the severe excuse a sigh ? 
 
 * The first quarto impression has trilling. EDIT.
 
 NARCISSA. 
 
 53 
 
 Scorn the proud man that is ashamed to weep j 
 
 
 Our tears indulged indeed deserve our shame. 
 
 
 Ye that e'er lost an angel, pity me ! 
 
 110 
 
 SOON as the lustre languish'd in her eye, 
 
 
 Dawning a dimmer day on human sight ; 
 
 
 And on her cheek, the residence of Spring, 
 
 
 Pale Omen sat, and scatter'd fears around 
 
 
 On all that saw ; (and who would cease to gaze, 
 
 115 
 
 That once had seen T) with haste, parental haste, 
 
 
 I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north, 
 
 
 Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, 
 
 
 And bore her nearer to the Sun : the Sun 
 
 
 (As if the Sun could envy) check'd his beam, 
 
 120 
 
 Denied his wonted succour ; nor with more 
 
 
 Eegret beheld her drooping than the bells 
 
 
 Of lilies ! fairest lilies, not so fair ! 
 
 
 QUEEN lilies ! and ye painted populace 
 
 
 Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives ; 
 
 125 
 
 In morn and evening dew your beauties bathe, 
 
 
 And drink the sun ; which gives your cheeks to glow, 
 
 
 And outblush (mine excepted) every fair ! 
 
 
 You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand, 
 
 
 Which often cropp'd your odours, incense meet 
 
 130 
 
 To thought so pure ! * Ye lovely fugitives ! 
 
 
 Coeval race with man ! for man you smile ; 
 
 
 Why not smile at him too ? You share indeed 
 
 
 Hia sudden pass, but not his constant pain. 
 
 
 So man is made, nought ministers delight 
 
 135 
 
 But what his glowing passions can engage ; 
 
 
 * " To thought so pure ; her flowery state of mind 
 
 
 In joy unfallen. Ye lovely fugitives ! " 
 
 
 This is the reading of the early quarto editions, and of the octavo, 1/49. 
 
 EDIT. 
 
 
 P 3 

 
 54 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And glowing passions bent on aught below 
 
 Must, soon or late, with anguish turn the scale ; 
 
 And anguish, after rapture, how severe ! 
 
 Rapture ? Bold man, who tempts the wrath Divine, 140 
 
 By plucking fruit denied to mortal taste, 
 
 While here, presuming on the rights of heaven ! 
 
 For transport dost thou call on every hour, 
 
 LORENZO 1 At thy friend's expense be wise : 
 
 Lean not on earth ; 't will pierce thee to the heart ; 145 
 
 A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ; 
 
 On its sharp point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires. 
 
 TURN, hopeless thought ! turn from her: Thought, repcll'd, 
 
 Resenting rallies, and wakes every woe. 
 
 Snatch'd ere thy prime, and in thy bridal hour ! 1 50 
 
 And when kind Fortune, with thy lover, smiled ! 
 
 And when high-flavour'd thy fresh opening joys ! 
 
 And when blind man pronounced thy bliss complete ! 
 
 And on a foreign shore, where strangers wept! 
 
 Strangers to thee, and, more surprising still, 155 
 
 Strangers to kindness, wept ; their eyes let fall 
 
 Inhuman tears ; strange tears, that trickled down 
 
 From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! 
 
 A tenderness that call'd them more severe, 
 
 In spite of Nature's soft persuasion steel'd. ICO 
 
 While Nature melted, Superstition raved : 
 
 That mourn'd the dead ; and this denied a grave. 
 
 THEIR sighs incensed ; sighs foreign to the will ! 
 
 Their will, the tiger-suck'd, out-raged the storm. 
 
 For, the cursed ungodliness of zeal ! 165 
 
 While sinful flesh relented, spirit nursed 
 
 In blind Infallibility's embrace, 
 
 The sainted spirit petrified the breast ; 
 
 Denied the charity of dust to spread 
 
 O'er dust! a charity their dogs enjoy. 170
 
 NARCISSA. 65 
 
 What could I do ? what succour, what resource ] 
 
 With pious sacrilege a grave I stole ; 
 
 With impious piety that grave I wrong'd ; 
 
 Short in my duty ; coward in my grief ! 
 
 More like her murderer than friend, I crept 175 
 
 With soft-suspended step, and, muffled deep 
 
 In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last sigh. 
 
 I whisper'd what should echo through their realms ; 
 
 Nor writ her name, whose tomb should pierce the skies. 
 
 Presumptuous fear ! how durst I dread her foes ISO 
 
 While Nature's loudest dictates I obey'd ? 
 
 (Pardon necessity, blest shade !) Of grief 
 
 And indignation rival bursts I pour'd ; 
 
 Half execration mingled with my prayer ; 
 
 Kindled at man, while I his God adored ; 185 
 
 Sore grudged the savage land her sacred dust ; 
 
 Stamp'd the cursed soil ; and with humanity 
 
 (Denied NAKCISSA) wish'd them all a grave. 
 
 GLOWS my resentment into guilt ? What guilt 
 
 Can equal violations of the dead ] 190 
 
 The dead how sacred ! sacred is the dust 
 
 Of this heaven-labour'd form, erect, Divine ! 
 
 This heaven-assumed majestic robe of earth 
 
 HE deign'd to wear, who hung the vast expanse 
 
 With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold. 196 
 
 When every passion sleeps that can offend ; 
 
 When strikes us every motive that can melt ; 
 
 When man can wreak his rancour uncontroll'd, 
 
 That strongest curb on insult and ill-will ; 
 
 Then, spleen to dust ? the dust of innocence ? 200 
 
 An angel's dust ] This Lucifer transcends : 
 
 When he contended for the patriarch's bones, 
 
 'T was not the strife of malice, but of pride ; 
 
 The strife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall.
 
 56 HIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 PAR less than this is shocking in a race 205 
 
 Most wretched but from streams of mutual love ; 
 
 And uncreated but for love Divine ; 
 
 And, but for love Divine, this moment lost, 
 
 By fate resorb'd, and sunk in endless night. 
 
 Man hard of heart to man ! of horrid things 210 
 
 Most horrid ! 'mid stupendous, highly strange ! 
 
 Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; 
 
 Pride brandishes the favours he confers, 
 
 And contumelious his humanity : 
 
 What then his vengeance 1 Hear it not, ye stars ! 215 
 
 And thou, pale moon, turn paler at the sound ; 
 
 Man is to man the sorest, surest ill. 
 
 A previous blast foretells the rising storm ; 
 
 Overwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall ; 
 
 Volcanoes bellow ere they disembogue ; 220 
 
 Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour ; 
 
 And smoke betrays the wide-consuming fire : 
 
 Ruin from man is most conceal'd when near, 
 
 And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. 
 
 Is this the flight of fancy ? Would it were ! 225 
 
 Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings, but himself, 
 
 That hideous sight, a naked human heart. 
 
 FIRED is the muse 1 and let the muse be fired : 
 
 Who not inflamed, when what he speaks he feels, 
 
 And in the nerve most tender, in his friends ? 230 
 
 Shame to mankind ! PHILANDER had his foes : 
 
 He felt the truths I sing, and I in him : 
 
 But he, nor I, feel more. Past ills, NAROISSA, 
 
 Are sunk in thee, thou recent wound of heart ! 
 
 Which bleeds with other cares, with other pangs ; 235 
 
 Pangs numerous, as the numerous ills that swarm'd 
 
 O'er thy distinguish'd fate, and, clustering there 
 
 Thick as the locust on the land of Nile, 
 
 Made death more deadly, and more dark the grave.
 
 NARCIS8A. 57 
 
 Reflect, (if not forgot my touching tale,) 240 
 
 How was each circumstance with aspics arm'd ! 
 
 An aspic each ; and all a hydra-woe. 
 
 What strong Herculean virtue could suffice 1 ! 
 
 Or is it virtue to be conquer*d here 1 
 
 This hoary cheek a train of tears bedews ; 245 
 
 And each tear mourns its own distinct distress ; 
 
 And each distress, distinctly mourn'd, demands 
 
 Of grief still more, as heighten'd by the whole. 
 
 A grief like this proprietors excludes : 
 
 Not friends alone such obsequies deplore ; 250 
 
 They make mankind the mourner ; carry sighs 
 
 Far as the fatal Fame can wing her way; 
 
 And turn the gayest thought of gayest age 
 
 Down their right channel, through the vale of death. 
 
 THE vale of death 1 that hush'd Cimmerian vale, 255 
 
 Where darkness, brooding o'er unfinish'd fates, 
 
 With raven wing incumbent, waits the day 
 
 (Dread day !) that interdicts all future change ! 
 
 That subterranean world, that land of ruin ! 
 
 Fit walk, LORENZO, for proud human thought ! 260 
 
 There let my thought expatiate ; and explore 
 
 Balsamic truths, and healing sentiments, 
 
 Of all most wanted and most welcome here. 
 
 For gay LORENZO'S sake, and for thy own, 
 
 My soul, " the fruits of dying friends survey ; 265 
 
 Expose the vain of life ; weigh life and death ; 
 
 Give death his eulogy ; thy fear subdue ; 
 
 And labour that first palm of noble minds, 
 
 A manly scorn of terror from the tomb." 
 
 THIS harvest reap from thy NARCISSA'S grave. 270 
 
 As poets feign'd from AJAX' streaming blood 
 Arose, with grief inscribed, a mournful flower ; 
 Let wisdom blossom from my mortal wound.
 
 58 KIGIIT THOUGniS. NIGHT III. 
 
 And first, of dying friends ; what fruit from these 1* 
 
 It brings us more than triple aid ; an aid 275 
 
 To chase our thoughtlessness, fear, pride, and guilt. 
 
 OUK dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, 
 
 To damp our brainless ardours, and abate 
 
 That glare of life which often blinds the wise. 
 
 Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth 280 
 
 Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars 
 
 Of terror and abhorrence Nature throws 
 
 Cross our obstructed way ; and thus to make 
 
 Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. 
 
 Each friend by Fate snatch'd from us is a plume 285 
 
 Pluck'd from the wing of human vanity, 
 
 Which makes us stoop from our aerial heights, 
 
 And, damp'd with omen of our own decease, 
 
 On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, 
 
 Just skim earth's surface, ere we break it up, 290 
 
 O'er putrid pride t to scratch a little dust, 
 
 And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends 
 
 Are angels sent on errands full of love ; 
 
 For us they languish, and for us they die : 
 
 And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain? 295 
 
 Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades, 
 
 Which wait the revolution in our hearts ? 
 
 Shall we disdain their silent, soft address ; 
 
 Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer 1 
 
 Senseless, as herds that graze their hallow'd graves, 300 
 
 Tread under foot their agonies and groans, 
 
 Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths ? 
 
 * " Rich fruit this tempest in our bosom throws, 
 
 Few minds will gather in our life's serene." 
 These two lines occur in the early quarto impressions. EDIT. 
 
 * Tills, and not " earth," is the reading of all the early impressions. 
 EDIT.
 
 NAROTSSA. 69 
 
 LORENZO ! no ; the thought of death indulge ; 
 
 Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign, 
 
 That kind chastiser of thy soul in joy ! * 305 
 
 Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, 
 
 And still the tumults of thy ruffled breast : 
 
 Auspicious era ! golden days, begin ! 
 
 The thought of death shall, like a god, inspire. 
 
 And why not think on death 1 Is life the theme 310 
 
 Of every thought, and wish of every hour, 
 
 And song of every joy ? Surprising truth ! 
 
 The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange. 
 
 To wave the numerous ills that seize on life 
 
 As their own property, their lawful prey ; 315 
 
 Ere man has measured half his weary stage, 
 
 His luxuries have left him no reserve, 
 
 No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights ; 
 
 On cold-served repetitions he subsists, 
 
 And in the tasteless present chews the past ; 320 
 
 Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down. 
 
 Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
 
 Have disinherited his future hours, 
 
 Which starve on orts,t and glean their former field. 
 
 Live ever here, LORENZO 1 Shocking thought ! 325 
 
 So shocking, they who wish disown it too ; 
 
 Disown from shame what they from folly crave. 
 
 Live ever in the womb, nor see the light ? 
 
 For what live ever here ? With labouring step 
 
 To tread our former footsteps 1 pace the round 330 
 
 Eternal ? to climb life's worn, heavy wheel, J 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto editions, and of the first in octavo, 
 is " to joy ;" which, from the connexion of the argument, aeems to be 
 correct. EDIT. 
 
 t " Oughts," which differs little in signification, is the reading of the 
 early quarto impressions, and of the first in octavo. EDIT. 
 
 $ " To climb daily life's worn wheel," is the more prosaic reading of 
 the early impressions. EDIT.
 
 60 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Which draws up nothing new 1 to beat, and beat 
 
 The beaten track ? to bid each wretched day 
 
 The former mock 1 to surfeit on the same, 
 
 And yawn our joys 1 or thank a misery 335 
 
 For change, though sad ? to see what we have seen 1 
 
 Hear, till unheard, the same old slabber'd* tale 1 ? 
 
 To taste the tasted, and at each return 
 
 Less tasteful 1 o'er our palates to decant 
 
 Another vintage ? strain a flatter year, 340 
 
 Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone 1 
 
 Crazy machines, to grind earth's wasted fruits ! 
 
 Ill-ground, and worse-concocted ! load, not life ! 
 
 The rational foul kennels of excess ! 
 
 Still streaming thoroughfares of dull debauch ! 345 
 
 Trembling each gulp, lest Death should snatch the bowl. 
 
 SUCH of our fine ones is the wish refined ! 
 
 So would they have it. Elegant desire ! 
 
 Why not invite the bellowing stalls and wilds ? 
 
 But such examples might their riot awe. 350 
 
 Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought, 
 
 (Though on bright thought they father all their flights,) 
 
 To what are they reduced ? To love and hate 
 
 The same vain world ; to censure and espouse 
 
 This painted shrew of life, who calls them fool 355 
 
 Each moment of each day ; to flatter bad 
 
 Through dread of worse ; to cling to this rude rock, 
 
 Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills, 
 
 And hourly blacken'd with impending storms, 
 
 And infamous for wrecks of human hope, 360 
 
 Scared at the gloomy gulf, that yawns beneath. 
 
 Such are their triumphs, such their pangs of joy ! 
 
 'T is time, high time, to shift this dismal scene. 
 This hugg*d, this hideous state, what art can cure ? 
 
 * In the early quarto impressions this is written slobber'd. EDIT.
 
 NAECISSA. 61 
 
 One only ; but that one, what all may reach, 365 
 
 VIRTUE. She (wonder-working goddess !) charms 
 
 That rock to bloom ; and tames the painted shrew ; 
 
 And, what will more surprise, LORENZO! gives 
 
 To life's sick, nauseous iteration, change ; 
 
 And straightens Nature's circle to a line. 370 
 
 Believest thou this, LORENZO ? Lend an ear, 
 
 A patient ear, thou 'It blush to disbelieve. 
 
 A LANGUID, leaden iteration reigns, 
 
 And ever must, o'er those whose joys are joys 
 
 Of sight, smell, taste ; the cuckoo-seasons sing 375 
 
 The same dull note to such as nothing prize 
 
 But what those seasons, from the teeming earth, 
 
 To doting sense indulge. But nobler minds, 
 
 Which relish fruits unripen'd by the sun, 
 
 Make their days various ; various as the dyes 380 
 
 On the dove's neck, which wanton in his rays. 
 
 On minds of dove-like innocence possess'd, 
 
 On lighten'd minds, that bask in Virtue's beams, 
 
 Nothing hangs tedious ; nothing old revolves 
 
 In that for which they long, for which they live. 385 
 
 Their glorious efforts, wing'd with heavenly hope, 
 
 Each rising morning sees still higher rise ; 
 
 Each bounteous dawn its novelty presents, 
 
 To worth maturing, new strength, lustre, fame ; 
 
 While Nature's circle, like a chariot- wheel 390 
 
 Boiling beneath their elevated aims, 
 
 Makes their fair prospect fairer every hour ; 
 
 Advancing virtue in a line to bliss ; 
 
 Virtue, which Christian motives best inspire ! 
 
 And bliss, which Christian schemes alone insure ! 395 
 
 AND shall we then, for Virtue's sake, commence 
 Apostates, and turn infidels for joy] 
 A truth it is few doubt, but fewer trust,
 
 62 RIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 " He sins against this life who slights the next." 
 
 What is this life 1 How few their favourite know ! 400 
 
 Fond in the dark, and blind in our embrace, 
 
 By passionately loving life we make 
 
 Loved life unlovely, hugging her to death. 
 
 We give to Time Eternity's regard ; 
 
 And, dreaming, take our passage for our port. 405 
 
 Life has no value as an end, but means ; 
 
 An end deplorable, a means Divine ! 
 
 When 't is our all, 't is nothing ; worse than nought ; 
 
 A nest of pains : when held as nothing, much. 
 
 Like some fair humourists, life is most enjoy'd 410 
 
 When courted least ; most worth, when disesteem'd : 
 
 Then 't is the seat of comfort, rich in peace ; 
 
 In prospect richer far ; important, awful ! 
 
 Not to be mention'd but with shouts of praise ! 
 
 Not to be thought on but with tides of joy ! 415 
 
 The mighty basis of eternal bliss ! 
 
 WHERE now the barren rock, the painted shrew ? 
 
 Where now, LORENZO, life's eternal round t 
 
 Have I not made my triple promise good 1 
 
 Vain is the world ; but only to the vain. 420 
 
 To what compare we then this varying scene, 
 
 Whose worth ambiguous rises, and declines, 
 
 Waxes, and wanes? (In all propitious, Night 
 
 Assists me here.) Compare it to the Moon ; 
 
 Dark in herself, and indigent ; but rich 425 
 
 In borrow'd lustre from a higher sphere. 
 
 When gross guilt interposes, labouring Earth, 
 
 O'ershadoVd, mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; 
 
 Her joys, at brightest, pallid to that font 
 
 Of full effulgent glory, whence they flow. 480 
 
 NOR is that glory distant. 0, LORENZO ! 
 A good man and an angel ! these between
 
 NARCISSA. 63 
 
 How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate 1 
 
 Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year : 
 
 Or if an age, it is a moment still ; 435 
 
 A moment, or eternity 's forgot. 
 
 Then be what once they were who now are gods ; 
 
 Be what PHILANDER was, and claim the skies. 
 
 Starts timid Nature at the gloomy pass] 
 
 " The soft transition " call it ; and be cheer'd : 440 
 
 Such it is often, and why not to thee 7 
 
 To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise ; 
 
 And may itself procure what it presumes. 
 
 Life is much flatter'd, Death is much traduced ; 
 
 Compare the rivals, and the kinder crown. 445 
 
 " Strange competition ! " True, LORENZO ! strange ! 
 
 So little life can cast into the scale. 
 
 LIFE makes the soul dependent on the dust ; 
 
 Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres. 
 
 Through chinks, styled organs, dim Life peeps at light ; 450 
 
 Death bursts the' involving cloud, and all is day ; 
 
 All eye, all ear, the disembodied power. 
 
 Death has feign'd evils Nature shall not feel ; 
 
 Life, ills substantial, Wisdom cannot shun. 
 
 Is not the mighty mind, that son of heaven, 455 
 
 By tyrant Life dethroned, imprison'd, pain'd ? 
 
 By Death enlarged, ennobled, deified 1 
 
 Death but entombs the body ; Life, the souL 
 
 " Is Death then guiltless 1 How he marks his way 
 With dreadful waste of what deserves to shine, 460 
 
 Art, genius, fortune, elevated power ! 
 With various lustres these light up the world, 
 Which Death puts out, and darkens human race." 
 I grant, LORENZO, this indictment just : 
 The sage, peer, potentate, king, conqueror, 465 
 
 Death humbles these ; more barbarous Life, the man. 
 o 2
 
 64 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT 
 
 in. 
 
 Life is the triumph of our mouldering clay ; 
 
 
 Death, of the spirit infinite, Divine. 
 
 
 Death has no dread but what frail Life imparts ; 
 
 
 Nor Life true joy but what kind Death improves. 
 
 470 
 
 No bliss has Life to boast, till Death can give 
 
 
 Far greater ; Life 's a debtor to the grave, 
 
 
 Dark lattice, letting in eternal day. 
 
 
 LORENZO ! blush at fondness for a life 
 
 
 Which sends celestial souls on errands vile, 
 
 475 
 
 To cater for the sense ; and serve at boards, 
 
 
 Where every ranger of the wilds, perhaps 
 
 
 Each reptile, justly claims our upper hand. 
 
 
 Luxurious feast ! a soul, a soul immortal, 
 
 
 In all the dainties of a brute bemired ! 
 
 480 
 
 LORENZO ! blush at terror for a death 
 
 
 Which gives thee to repose in festive bowers, 
 
 
 Where nectars sparkle, angels minister, 
 
 
 And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, 
 
 
 And eternize the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss.* 
 
 485 
 
 What need I more? Death, the palm is thine. 
 
 
 THEN welcome, Death, thy dreaded harbingers, 
 
 
 Age and Disease : Disease, though long my guest, 
 
 
 That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life ; 
 
 
 Which, pluck'd a little more, will toll the bell 
 
 490 
 
 That calls my few friends to my funeral ; 
 
 
 Where feeble Nature drops, perhaps, a tear, 
 
 
 While Keason and Religion, better taught, 
 
 
 Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb 
 
 
 With wreath triumphant. Death is victory ; 
 
 495 
 
 It binds in chains the raging ills of life : 
 
 
 * " O feast indeed luxurious ! Earth, vile earth, 
 
 
 In all the glories of a God array'd ! " 
 
 
 These lines occur in the early quarto impressions. EDIT. 

 
 NARCI9SA. 65 
 
 Lust and Ambition, Wrath* and Avarice, 
 
 Dragg'd at his chariot-wheel, applaud his power. 
 
 That ills corrosive, cares importunate, 
 
 Are not immortal too, Death ! is thine. 600 
 
 Our day of dissolution ! name it right ; 
 
 'T is our great pay-day ; 't is our harvest, rich 
 
 And ripe. What, though the sickle, sometimes keen, 
 
 Just scars us as we reap the golden grain 1 
 
 More than thy balm, Gilead, heals the wound. 505 
 
 Birth's feeble cry, and Death's deep dismal groan, 
 
 Are slender tributes low-tax'd Nature pays 
 
 For mighty gain : the gain of each, a life ! 
 
 But 0, the last the former so transcends, 
 
 Life dies, compared ; Life lives beyond the grave. 510 
 
 AND feel I, Death, no joy from thought of thee ? 
 
 Death, the great counsellor, who man inspires 
 
 With every nobler thought, and fairer deed ! 
 
 Death, the deliverer, who rescues man ! 
 
 Death, the rewarder, who the rescued crowns ! 515 
 
 Death, that absolves my birth ; a curse without it ! 
 
 Rich Death, that realizes all my cares, 
 
 Toils, virtues, hopes j without it, a chimera ! 
 
 Death, of all pain the period, not of joy ! 
 
 Joy's source and subject still subsist unhurt, 520 
 
 One in my soul, and one in her great Sire ; 
 
 Though the four winds were warring for my dust. 
 
 Yes, and from winds, and waves, and central night, 
 
 Though prison'd there, my dust too I reclaim, 
 
 (To dust when drop proud Nature's proudest spheres,) 525 
 
 And live entire. Death is the crown of life : 
 
 Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; 
 
 Were death denied, to live would not be life ; 
 
 Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. 
 
 * Instead of Wrath, the quarto has Rage. EDIT. 
 G3
 
 66 NIGHT THOUGHTS. HIGIIT III. 
 
 Death wounds to cure : we fall ; we rise ; we reign ! 530 
 
 Spring from our fetters ; fasten in the skies, 
 
 Where blooming Eden withers in our sight : 
 
 Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. 
 
 This King of Terrors is the Prince of Peace. 
 
 When shall I die to vanity, pain, death ? 535 
 
 When shall 1 die ? when shall I live for ever ?
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS, 
 
 TIIE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT IV. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 
 
 CONTAINING OUR ONLY CURE FOR THE FEAR OF DEATH, AND 
 PROPER SENTIMENTS OF IIEART ON THAT INESTIMABLE 
 BLESSING. 
 
 HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO THE HONOURABLE MR. YORKE.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As the occasion of this poem was real, not fictitious ; so 
 the method pursued in it was rather imposed by what spon- 
 taneously arose in the author's mind on that occasion, than 
 meditated or designed: which will appear very probable 
 from the nature of it ; for it differs from the common mode 
 of poetry, which is from long narrations to draw short 
 morals. Here, on the contrary, the narrative is short, and 
 the morality arising from it makes the bulk of the poem. 
 The reason of it is, that the facts mentioned did naturally 
 pour these moral reflections on the thought of the writer.* 
 
 It is evident from the First Night, where three deaths 
 are mentioned, that the plan is not yet completed ; for two 
 only of those three have yet been sung. But, since this 
 Fourth Night finishes one principal and important theme, 
 naturally arising from all three, namely, the subduing 
 our fear of death, it will be a proper pausing-place for the 
 reader, and the writer too. And it is uncertain whether 
 Providence, or inclination, will permit him to go any 
 farther. 
 
 * All the early editions, both in quarto and octavo, retained this 
 preface, as it stands here, at the commencement of the Fourth Night. 
 But when the author collected together "the most excusable of all the 
 pieces that he had formerly written," he prefixed this paragraph to the 
 First Night, as a suitable preface to the entire poem, and the other two 
 were omitted. EDIT.
 
 70 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 I Bay "inclination," for this thing was entered on 
 purely as a refuge under uneasiness, when more proper 
 studies wanted sufficient relish to detain the writer's atten- 
 tion to them. And that reason (thanks be to Heaven) 
 ceasing, the writer has no farther occasion I should rather 
 say " excuse " for giving-in so much to the amusements, 
 amid the duties, of life.
 
 NIGHT IV. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 
 
 A MUCH-INDEBTED Muse, YoRKE ! intrudes. 
 Amid the smiles of Fortune, and of youth, 
 Thine ear is patient of a serious song. 
 How deep implanted in the breast of man 
 The Dread of Death ! I sing its sovereign cure. 5 
 
 WHY start at Death ? Where is he ] Death arrived 
 
 Is past ; not come, or gone, he 's never here. 
 
 Ere hope, sensation fails ; black-boding man 
 
 Receives, not suffers, Death's tremendous blow. 
 
 The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; 10 
 
 The deep, damp vault, the darkness, and the worm : 
 
 These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, 
 
 The terrors of the living, not the dead. 
 
 Imagination's fool, and Error's wretch, 
 
 Man makes a Death which Nature never made ; 15 
 
 Then on the point of his own fancy falls, 
 
 And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 
 
 Bur were Death frightful, what has Age to fear 1 
 
 If prudent, Age should meet the friendly foe, 
 
 And shelter in his hospitable gloom. 20 
 
 I scarce can meet a monument but holds 
 
 My younger : every date cries, " Come away." 
 
 And what recalls me ? Look the world around, 
 
 And tell me what : the wisest cannot tell. 
 
 Should any born of woman give his thought 25 
 
 Full range on just dislike's unbounded field ; 
 
 Of things, the vanity ; of men, the flaws ;
 
 72 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IV. 
 
 Flaws in the best ; the many, flaw all o'er ; 
 
 As leopards, spotted ; or as Ethiops, dark ; 
 
 Vivacious ill ; good dying immature ; 30 
 
 (How immature, NARCISSA'S marble tells !) 
 
 And at its death bequeathing endless pain ; 
 
 His heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, 
 
 And spend itself in sighs for future scenes. 
 
 Ben grant to Life (and just it is to grant 35 
 
 To lucky Life) some perquisites of joy ; 
 
 A time there is, when, like a thrice-told tale,* 
 
 Long-rifled Life of sweet can yield no more, 
 
 But from our comment on the comedy, 
 
 Pleasing reflections on parts well-sustain'd, 40 
 
 Or purposed emendations where we fail'd, 
 
 Or hopes of plaudits from our candid Judge, 
 
 When, on their exit, souls are bid unrobe, 
 
 Toss Fortune back her tinsel, and her plume, 
 
 And drop this mask of flesh behind the scene. 45 
 
 WITH me, that time is come ! my world is dead ; 
 
 A new world rises, and new manners reign : 
 
 Foreign comedians, a spruce band, arrive, 
 
 To push me from the scene, or hiss me there. 
 
 What a pert race starts up ! The strangers gaze, 50 
 
 And I at them : my neighbour is unknown ; 
 
 Nor that the worst : ah me ! the dire effect 
 
 Of loitering here, of Death defrauded long ! 
 
 Of old so gracious, (and let that suffice,) 
 
 My very master knows me not. 66 
 
 SHALL I dare say, peculiar is the fate 1 
 
 I 've been so long remember'd, I 'm forgot. 
 
 * " And that of no great moment or delight.' 
 This line occurs in the early quarto editions. EDIT.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 73 
 
 An object ever pressing dims the sight, 
 
 And hides behind its ardour to be seen. 
 
 When in his courtiers' ears I pour my plaint, 60 
 
 They drink it as the nectar of the great ; 
 
 And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow ! 
 
 Refusal ! canst thou wear a smoother form f 
 
 INDULGE me, nor conceive I drop my theme : 
 
 Who cheapens life, abates the fear of death. 65 
 
 Twice-told the period spent on stubborn Troy, 
 
 Court-favour, yet untaken, I besiege ; 
 
 Ambition's ill-judged effort to be rich. 
 
 Alas ! Ambition makes my little less ; 
 
 Embittering the possess'd. Why wish for more ? 70 
 
 Wishing of all employments is the worst ; 
 
 Philosophy's reverse, and health's decay : 
 
 Were I as plump as stall'd Theology, 
 
 Wishing would waste me to this shade again. 
 
 Were I as wealthy as a South-Sea dream, 75 
 
 Wishing is an expedient to be poor. 
 
 Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool, 
 
 Caught at a court ; purged off by purer air, 
 
 And simpler diet ; gifts of rural life ! 
 
 BLESS'D be the Hand Divine, which gently laid 80 
 
 My heart at rest, beneath this humble shed. 
 
 The world 's a stately bark, on dangerous seas, 
 
 With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril. 
 
 Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, 
 
 I hear the tumult of the distant throng, 85 
 
 As that of seas remote, or dying storms ; 
 
 And meditate on scenes more silent still ; 
 
 Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of Death. 
 
 Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hat, 
 
 Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff, 90 
 
 Eager Ambition's fiery chase I see ;
 
 74 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IT. 
 
 I see the circling hunt, of noisy men, 
 
 Burst Law's enclosure, leap the mounds of Right, 
 
 Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey ; 
 
 As wolves, for rapine ; as the fox, for wiles ; 95 
 
 Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. 
 
 WHY all this toil for triumphs of an hour 1 
 
 What, though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ] 
 
 Earth's highest station ends in, " Here he lies : " 
 
 And "Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. 100 
 
 If this song lives, posterity shall know 
 
 One, though in Britain Lorn, with courtiers bred, 
 
 Who thought e'en gold might come a day too late ; 
 
 Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme 
 
 For future vacancies in Church or State ; 105 
 
 Some avocation deeming it to die ; 
 
 Unbit by rage canine of dying rich ; 
 
 Guilt's blunder, and the loudest laugh of hell ! 
 
 MY coe'vals ! remnants of yourselves ! 
 
 Poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave ! 110 
 
 Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, 
 
 Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling, 
 
 Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil 1 
 
 Shall our pale, wither'd hands be still stretch'd out, 
 
 Trembling at once with eagerness and age, 115 
 
 With avarice and convulsions grasping hard ? 
 
 Grasping at air ! for what has earth beside ? 
 
 Man wants but little ; nor that little long :* 
 
 * Upwards of twenty years after this verse was written, Goldsmith 
 seems unconsciously to have adopted it, with a slight variation, in his 
 simple ballad of " Edwin and Angelina," which first appeared in his 
 "Vicar of Wakefield : " 
 
 " Man wants but little here below ; 
 Nor wants that little long." EDIT.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 75 
 
 How soon must he resign his very dust, 
 
 Which frugal Nature lent him for an hour ! 120 
 
 Years unexperienced rush on numerous ills ; 
 
 And soon as man, expert from time, has found 
 
 The key of Life, it opes the gates of Death. 
 
 WHEN in this vale of years I backward look, 
 
 And miss such numbers, numbers too of such, 125 
 
 Firmer in health, and greener in their age, 
 
 And stricter on their guard, and fitter far 
 
 To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe 
 
 I still survive. And am I fond of life, 
 
 Who scarce can think it possible I live 1 130 
 
 Alive by miracle; or, what is next, 
 
 Alive by MEAD ! if I am still alive, 
 
 Who long have buried what gives life to live, 
 
 Firmness of nerve, and energy of thought. 
 
 Life's lee is not more shallow than impure 135 
 
 And vapid : Sense and Reason show the door, 
 
 Call for my bier, and point me to the dust. 
 
 THOU great Arbiter of Life and Death ! 
 Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun ! 
 
 Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth 140 
 
 From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay 
 
 The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath 
 
 The dust I tread on ; high to bear my brow, 
 
 To drink the spirit of the golden day, 
 
 And triumph in existence ; and couldst know 145 
 
 "No motive but my bliss ; and hast ordain'd 
 
 A rise in blessing! with the patriarch's joy, 
 
 Thy call I follow to the land unknown ; 
 
 1 trust in Thee, and know in whom I trust : 
 
 Or life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs ; 150 
 
 All weight in this let me live to Thee ! 
 
 H 2
 
 76 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THOUGH Nature's terrors thus may be repress'd, 
 
 Still frowns grim Death ; guilt points the tyrant's spear. 
 
 And whence all human guilt ] From Death forgot. 
 
 Ah me ! too long I set at nought the swarm 1 55 
 
 Of friendly warnings which around me flew ; 
 
 And smiled unsmitten. Small my cause to smile ! 
 
 Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot, 
 
 More dreadful by delay, the longer ere 
 
 They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound. 1 60 
 
 think how deep, LORENZO ! here it stings : 
 
 Who can appease its anguish ! How it burns ! 
 
 What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw 1 
 
 What healing hand can pour the balm of peace, 
 
 A nd turn my sight undaunted on the tomb 1 165 
 
 WITH joy, with grief, that healing hand I see ; 
 
 Ah ! too conspicuous ! it is fix'd on high. 
 
 On high ? What means my frenzy 1 I blaspheme ! 
 
 Alas ! how low ! how far beneath the skies ! 
 
 The skies it form'd ; and now it bleeds for me 170 
 
 But bleeds the balm I want, yet still it bleeds ; 
 
 Draw the dire steel ah no ! the dreadful blessing 
 
 What heart or can sustain, or dares forego ? 
 
 There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports 
 
 The falling universe : that gone, we drop ; 175 
 
 Horror receives us, and the dismal wish 
 
 Creation had been smother'd in her birth 
 
 Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust ; 
 
 When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne ! 
 
 In heaven itself can such indulgence dwell 1 180 
 
 what a groan was there ! a groan not His. 
 
 He seized our dreadful right ; the load sustain'd ; 
 
 And heaved the mountain from a guilty world. 
 
 A thousand worlds, so bought, were bought too dear : 
 
 Sensations new in angels' bosoms rise, 185 
 
 Suspend their song, and make a pause in bliss.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 77 
 
 FOK their song, to reach my lofty theme ! 
 
 Inspire me, Night ! with all thy tuneful spheres ;* 
 
 Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes, 
 
 And show to men the dignity of man ; 1 90 
 
 Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song. 
 
 Shall Pagan pages glow celestial flame, 
 
 And Christian languish ? On our hearts, not heads, 
 
 Falls the foul infamy. My heart, awake ! 
 
 What can awake thee, una waked by this, 195 
 
 " Expended Deity on human weal ? " 
 
 Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night 
 
 Of Heathen error, with a golden flood 
 
 Of endless day. To feel, is to be fired ; 
 
 And to believe, LORENZO, is to feel. 200 
 
 THOC most indulgent, most tremendous Power ! 
 
 Still more tremendous, for Thy wondrous love, 
 
 That arms, with awe more awful, Thy commands ; 
 
 And foul transgression dipp'd in sevenfold guilt : 
 
 How our hearts tremble at Thy love immense ! 205 
 
 In love immense, inviolably just! 
 
 Thou, rather than Thy justice should be stain'd, 
 
 Didst stain the cross ; and work of wonders far 
 
 The greatest, that Thy Dearest far might bleed. 
 
 BOLD thought! shall I dare speak it, or repress] 210 
 
 Should man more execrate or boast the guilt 
 
 Which roused such vengeance, which such love inflamed '? 
 
 O'er guilt (how mountainous !) with outstretch'd anus, 
 
 Stern Justice, and soft-smiling Love, embrace, 
 
 Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne, 2] 5 
 
 When seem'd its majesty to need support, 
 
 Or that, or man, inevitably lost : 
 
 What but the fathomless of thought Divine 
 
 * "Much rather THOU, who dost those spheres inspire ! " 
 This line is found in all the quarto impressions. EDIT. 
 B 3
 
 78 KIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Could labour such expedient from despair, 
 
 And rescue both 1 Both rescue ! both exalt ! 220 
 
 how are both exalted by the deed ! 
 
 The wondrous deed ! or shall I call it more ? 
 
 A wonder in Omnipotence itself ! 
 
 A mystery no less to gods than men ! 
 
 NOT thus our infidels the' Eternal draw, 225 
 
 A God all o'er, consummate, absolute, 
 
 Full-orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete : 
 
 They set at odds Heaven's jarring attributes, 
 
 And with one excellence another wound ; 
 
 Maim Heaven's perfection, break its equal beams, 230 
 
 Bid Mercy triumph over God himself, 
 
 Undeified by their opprobrious praise : 
 
 A God all mercy, is a God unjust. 
 
 YE brainless wits, ye baptized infidels 1 
 
 Ye worse for mending, wash'd to fouler stains ! 235 
 
 The ransom was paid down ; the fund of Heaven, 
 
 Heaven's inexhaustible, exhausted fund, 
 
 Amazing and amazed, pour'd forth the price, 
 
 All price beyond : though curious to compute, 
 
 Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum : 240 
 
 Its value vast, ungrasp'd by minds create, 
 
 For ever hides and glows in the Supreme. 
 
 AND was the ransom paid 2 It was : and paid 
 
 (What can exalt the bounty more ?) for you. 
 
 The Sun beheld it No, the shocking scene 245 
 
 Drove back his chariot : midnight veil'd his face ; 
 
 Not such as this, not such as Nature makes ; 
 
 A midnight Nature shudder'd to behold ; 
 
 A midnight new ! a dread eclipse, (without 
 
 Opposing spheres,) from her Creator's frown ! 250 
 
 Sun ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain ? or start
 
 THE --CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 79 
 
 At that enormous load of human guilt 
 
 Which bow'd His blessed head, o'erwhelm'd His cross, 
 
 Made groan the centre, burst earth's marble womb 
 
 With pangs, strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ] 255 
 
 Hell howl'd ; and Heaven that hour let fall a tear ; 
 
 Heaven wept, that men might smile ! Heaven bled, that 
 
 man 
 Might never die ! 
 
 AND is devotion virtue 1 'T is compell'd : 
 What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? 260 
 Such contemplations mount us, and should mount 
 The mind still higher ; nor ever glance on man 
 Unraptured, uninflamed. Where roll my thoughts 
 To rest from wonders] Other wonders rise; 
 And strike where'er they roll : my soul is caught ; 265 
 Heaven's sovereign blessings, clustering from the Cross, 
 Rush on her in a throng, and close her round, 
 The prisoner of amaze ! In His bless' d life 
 I see the path, and in His death the price, 
 And in His great ascent the proof supreme, 270 
 
 r >f immortality. And did He rise? 
 Hear, ye nations ! Hear it, ye dead ! 
 He rose ! He rose ! He burst the bars of death. 
 Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, 
 And give the King of Glory to come in ! 275 
 
 Who is the King of glory 1 He who left 
 His throne of glory for the pang of death. 
 Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, 
 And give the King of glory to come in! 
 Who is the King of Glory '* He who slew 280 
 
 The ravenous foe that gorged all human race ! 
 The King of Glory, He whose glory fill'd 
 Heaven with amazement at His love to man ; 
 And with Divine complacency beheld 
 Towers most illumined wikler'd in the theme ! 285
 
 80 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain'! 
 
 the burst gates, crush'd sting, deinolish'd throne, 
 
 Last gasp, of vanquish'd Death ! Shout, Earth and Heaven, 
 
 This sum of good to man ! whose nature then 
 
 Took wing, and mounted with Him from the tomb. 290 
 
 Then, then I rose ; then first humanity 
 
 Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, 
 
 (Stupendous guest !) and seized eternal youth, 
 
 Seized in our name. E'er since, 't is blasphemous 
 
 To call man mortal. Man's mortality 295 
 
 Was then transferred to Death ; and Heaven's duration 
 
 Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, 
 
 This child of dust. Man, all immortal, hail ! 
 
 Hail, Heaven, all lavish of strange gifts to man ! 
 
 Thine all the glory ; man's the boundless bliss. 300 
 
 WHERE am I rapt by this triumphant theme, 
 
 On Christian joy's exulting wing, above 
 
 The' Aonian mount 1 Alas, small cause for joy ! 
 
 What, if to pain immortal 1 if extent 
 
 Of being, to preclude a close of woe 1 305 
 
 Where, then, my boast of immortality 1 ? 
 
 1 boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt : 
 For guilt, not innocence, His life He pour'd ; 
 'T is guilt alone can justify His death ; 
 
 Nor that, unless His death can justify 310 
 
 Kelenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight. 
 
 If, sick of folly, I relent, He writes 
 
 My name in heaven with that inverted spear 
 
 (A spear deep dipp'd in blood !) which pierced His side, 
 
 And open'd there a font for all mankind 315 
 
 Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink and live : 
 
 This, only this, subdues the fear of death. 
 
 AND what is this ] Survey the wondrous cure : 
 And at each step let higher wonder rise !
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 81 
 
 " Pardon for infinite offence ; and pardon 320 
 
 Through means that speak its value infinite ! 
 
 A pardon bought with blood ; with blood Divine ! 
 
 With blood Divine of Him I made my foe ! 
 
 Persisted to provoke ! though woo'd and awed, 
 
 Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still ! 325 
 
 A rebel, 'midst the thunders of His throne ! 
 
 Nor I alone j a rebel universe ! 
 
 My species up in arms ; not one exempt ! 
 
 Yet for the foulest of the foul He dies : 
 
 Most joy"d, for the redeem'd from deepest guilt ! 330 
 
 As if our race were held of highest rank ; 
 
 And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man ! " 
 
 BOUND, every heart ! and every bosom, burn ! 
 
 what a scale of miracles is here ! 
 
 Its lowest round high-planted on the skies ; S35 
 
 Its towering summit lost beyond the thought 
 
 Of man or angel ! that I could climb 
 
 The wonderful ascent, with equal praise ! 
 
 Praise ! flow for ever, (if astonishment 
 
 Will give thee leave,) my praise! for ever flow; y40 
 
 Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heaven 
 
 More fragrant than Arabia sacrificed, 
 
 And all her spicy mountains in a flame. 
 
 So dear, so due to Heaven, shall Praise descend, 
 
 With her soft plume (from plausive angel's wing 345 
 
 First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears, 
 
 Thus diving in the pockets of the great ] 
 
 Is Praise the perquisite of every paw, 
 
 Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold 1 
 
 love of gold ! thou meanest of amours ! 350 
 
 Shall Praise her odours waste on VIRTUE'S dead. 
 
 Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt. 
 
 Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair,
 
 82 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIQIIT IV. 
 
 Kemoving filth, or sinking it from sight, 
 
 A scavenger in scenes where vacant posts, 355 
 
 Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect 
 
 Their future ornaments ] From courts and thrones 
 
 Keturn, apostate Praise ! thou vagabond ! 
 
 Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return ; 
 
 Thy first, thy greatest, once unrivall'd theme. 360 
 
 THERE flow redundant ; like Meander, flow 
 
 Back to thy fountain ; to that parent Power 
 
 Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar, 
 
 The soul to be. Men homage pay to men ; 
 
 Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow 365 
 
 In mutual awe profound, of clay to clay, 
 
 Of guilt to guilt ; and turn their backs on Thee, 
 
 Great Sire ! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing ; 
 
 To prostrate angels an amazing scene ! 
 
 the presumption of man's awe for man ! 370 
 
 Man's Author, End, Restorer, Law, and Judge ! 
 
 Thine, all ; Day thine, and thine this gloom of Night, 
 
 With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds. 
 
 What night eternal, but a frown from Thee ? 
 
 What heaven's meridian glory, but Thy smile 1 375 
 
 And shall not praise be Thine ? not human praise, 
 
 While Heaven's high host on hallelujahs live ? 
 
 MAY I breathe no longer than I breathe 
 
 My soul in praise to Him who gave my soul, 
 
 And all her infinite of prospect fair, 380 
 
 Cut through the shades of hell, great Love, by thee, 
 
 most adorable, most unadored ! 
 
 Where shall that praise begin which ne'er should end 1 
 
 Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause ! 
 
 How is Night's sable mantle labour'd o'er! 385 
 
 How richly wrought with attributes Divine ! 
 
 What wisdom shines, what love ! This midnight pomp,
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TKIUMPH. 83 
 
 This gorgeous arch with golden worlds inlaid ! 
 
 Built with Divine ambition ! nought to Thee ; 
 
 For others this profusion. Thou, apart, 390 
 
 Above, beyond ! tell me, mighty Mind, 
 
 Where art Thou 1 Shall I dive into the deep 1 
 
 Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds, 
 
 For their Creator 1 Shall I question loud 
 
 The thunder, if in that the* Almighty dwells ? 395 
 
 Or holds HE furious storms in straighten'd * reins, 
 
 And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car ? 
 
 WHAT mean these questions 1 Trembling I retract , 
 
 My prostrate soul adores the present God. 
 
 Praise I a distant Deity 1 He tunes 400 
 
 My voice (if tuned) ; the nerve that writes, sustains : 
 
 Wrapt in His being, I resound His praise : 
 
 But though past all diffused, without a shore, 
 
 His essence ; local is His throne (as meet) 
 
 To gather the dispersed ; (as standards call 405 
 
 The listed from afar ;) to fix a point, 
 
 A central point, collective of His sons, 
 
 Since finite every nature but His own. 
 
 THE nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth ; 
 
 And Nature's shield, the shadow of His hand ; 410 
 
 Her dissolution, His suspended smile ! 
 
 The great First-Last ! pavilion'd high He sits 
 
 In darkness, from excessive splendour born, 
 
 By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost. 
 
 His glory, to created glory, bright 41 5 
 
 * The early editions have straightened, in the signification of 
 " stretched ; " for every one who is accustomed to any form of chariot- 
 eering knows, that when his reins are at full stretch, and pulled quite 
 straight, he has the greatest power over the steeds which he is trying to 
 guide or restrain. EDIT.
 
 84 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IT. 
 
 As that to central horrors ; He looks down 
 On all that soars, and spans immensity. 
 
 THOUGH Night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view, 
 
 Boundless Creation ! what art thou ] A beam, 
 
 A mere effluvium of His majesty. 420 
 
 And shall an atom of this atom-world 
 
 Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of Heaven ? 
 
 Down to the centre should I send my thought 
 
 Through beds of glittering ore, and glowing gems, 
 
 Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay ; 425 
 
 Goes out in darkness. If, on towering wing, 
 
 I send it through the boundless vault of stars ; 
 
 The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to Thee, 
 
 Great, good, wise, wonderful, eternal King ! 
 
 If to those conscious stars Thy throne around, 430 
 
 Praise ever pouring, and imbibing bliss, 
 
 And ask their strain ; they want it, more they want, 
 
 Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 
 
 Languid their energy, their ardour cold : 
 
 Indebted still, their highest rapture burns, 435 
 
 Short of its mark, defective, though Divine. 
 
 STILL more, this theme is man's, and man's alone ; 
 
 Their vast appointments reach it not : they see 
 
 On earth a bounty not indulged on high, 
 
 And downward look for Heaven's superior praise ! 40 
 
 First-born of ether, high in fields of light, 
 
 View man, to see the glory of your God ! 
 
 Could angels envy, they had envied here ; 
 
 And some did envy : and the rest, though gods, 
 
 Yet still gods unredeem'd, (there triumphs man, 445 
 
 Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies,) 
 
 They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme. 
 
 They sung Creation (for in that they shared) ; 
 
 How rose in melody that child of love !
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 85 
 
 Creation's great superior, man ! is thine ; 450 
 
 Thine is Redemption. They just gave the key ; 
 
 'T is thine to raise and eternize the song, 
 
 Though human, yet Divine ; for should not this 
 
 Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here 1 
 
 Eedemption ! 't was creation more sublime ; 455 
 
 Redemption ! 't was the labour of the skies ; 
 
 Far more than labour, it was Death in heaven. 
 
 A truth so strange, 't were bold to think it true, 
 
 If not far bolder still to disbelieve. 459 
 
 HERE pause, and ponder. Was there death in heaven 1 
 
 What then on earth 1 on earth, whioh struck the blow 1 
 
 Who struck it ? Who 1 how is man enlarged, 
 
 Seen through this medium ! How the pigmy towers ! 
 
 How counterpoised his origin from dust ! 
 
 How counterpoised to dust his sad return ! 465 
 
 How voided his vast distance from the skies ! 
 
 How near he presses on the seraph's wing ! 
 
 Which is the seraph 1 ! which the born of clay? 
 
 How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud 
 
 Of guilt and clay condensed, the son of Heaven ; 470 
 
 The double son ; the made, and the re-made ! 
 
 And shall Heaven's double property be lost] 
 
 Man's double madness only can destroy. 
 
 To man the bleeding Cross has promised all ; 
 
 The bleeding Cross has sworn eternal grace ; 475 
 
 Who gave His life, what grace shall He deny 1 
 
 ye, who from this Rock of Ages leap, 
 
 Disdainful,* plunging headlong in the deep ! 
 
 What cordial joy, what consolation strong, 
 
 Whatever winds arise, or billows roll, 480 
 
 Our interest in the Master of the storm ! 
 
 * This is the reading of the early quarto and octavo impressions. In 
 the collected Works, (17fi2.) it is changed into apostatet. EDIT. 
 
 I
 
 86 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Cling there, and in wreck'd Nature's ruins smile, 
 While vile apostates tremble in a calm. 
 
 " MAN, know thyself ! " All wisdom centres there ; 
 
 To none man seems ignoble but to man. 485 
 
 Angels that grandeur men o'erlook admire ; 
 
 How long shall human nature be their book, 
 
 Degenerate mortal, and unread by thee ] 
 
 The beam dim Reason sheds shows wonders there ; 
 
 What high contents, illustrious faculties ! 490 
 
 But the grand comment, which displays at full 
 
 Our human height, scarce sever'd from Divine, 
 
 By Heaven composed, was publish'd on the Cross. 
 
 WHO looks on that, and sees not in himself 
 
 An awful stranger, a terrestrial god ? 495 
 
 A glorious partner with the Deity 
 
 In that high attribute, immortal life ? 
 
 If a God bleeds, He bleeds not for a worm : 
 
 I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul 
 
 Catches strange fire, Eternity ! at thee ; 500 
 
 And drops the world, or rather, more enjoys. 
 
 How changed the face of Nature ! how improved ! 
 
 What seem'd a chaos, shines a glorious world ; 
 
 Or what a world, an Eden ; heighten'd all ! 
 
 It is another scene, another self; 505 
 
 And still another, as time rolls along ; 
 
 And that a self far more illustrious still. 
 
 Beyond long ages, yet roll'd up in shades 
 
 Unpierced by bold Conjecture's keenest ray, 
 
 What evolutions of surprising fate ! 510 
 
 How Nature opens, and receives my soul 
 
 In boundless walks of raptured thought ! where gods 
 
 Encounter and embrace me ! What new births 
 
 Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun ; 
 
 Where what now charms, perhaps whate'er exists, 51 5 
 
 Old Time and fair Creation, are forgot !
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 87 
 
 Is this extravagant 1 Of man we form 
 
 Extravagant conception, to be just : 
 
 Conception unconfined wants wings to reach him : 
 
 Beyond its reach the Godhead only more. 520 
 
 He, the great Father, kindled at one flame 
 
 The world of rationals ; one spirit pour'd 
 
 From Spirit's awful fountain ; pour'd Himself 
 
 Through all their souls ; but not in equal stream ; 
 
 Profuse or frugal of the' inspiring God, 525 
 
 As His wise plan demanded ; and, when past 
 
 Their various trials in their various spheres, 
 
 If they continue rational, as made, 
 
 Kesorbs them all into Himself again ; 
 
 His throne their centre, and His smile their crown. 530 
 
 Wnr doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing, 
 
 Though yet unsung, as deem'd, perhaps, too bold ] 
 
 Angels are men of a superior kind ; 
 
 Angels are men in lighter habit clad, 
 
 High o'er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; 535 
 
 And men are angels loaded for an hour, 
 
 Who wade this miry vale, and climb, with pain 
 
 And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. 
 
 Angels their failings, mortals have their praise ; 
 
 While here, of corps ethereal, such enroll'd, 540 
 
 And summon'd to the glorious standard soon, 
 
 Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. 
 
 Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, 
 
 Yet absent ; but not absent from their love. 
 
 MICHAEL has fought our battles ; RAPHAEL sung 545 
 
 Our triumphs ; GABRIEL on our errands flown, 
 
 Sent by the SOVEREIGN : and are these, man, 
 
 Thy friends, thy warm allies 1 and thou (shame burn 
 
 The cheek to cinder !) rival to the brute ] 
 
 RELIGION 's all. Descending from the skies 550 
 
 To wretched man, the goddess in her left 
 i 2
 
 88 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IV. 
 
 Holds out this world, and in her right the next. 
 
 Eeligion ! the sole voucher man is man ; 
 
 Supporter sole of man above himself; 
 
 E'en in this night of frailty, change, and death, 555 
 
 She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. 
 
 Religion ! Providence ! an after-state ! 
 
 Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ; 
 
 This can support us : all is sea besides ; 
 
 Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. 560 
 
 His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
 
 And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. 
 
 As when a wretch, from thick, polluted air, 
 
 Darkness, and stench, and suffocating damps, 
 
 And dungeon-horrors, by kind Fate discharged, 565 
 
 Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure 
 
 Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise, 
 
 His heart exults, his spirits cast their load ; 
 
 As if new-born, he triumphs in the change ; 
 
 So joys the soul, when, from inglorious aims, 570 
 
 And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth 
 
 Of ties terrestrial, set at large, she mounts 
 
 To Reason's region, her own element, 
 
 Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. 
 
 RELIGION! thou the soul of happiness, 575 
 
 And, groaning Calvary, of thee ! There shine 
 
 The noblest truths ; there strongest motives sting ; 
 
 There sacred violence assaults the soul ; 
 
 There nothing but compulsion is forborne. 
 
 Can love allure us, or can terror awe 1 580 
 
 He weeps ! the falling drop puts out the sun ; 
 
 He sighs ! the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. 
 
 If in His love so terrible, what then 
 
 His wrath inflamed, His tenderness on fire 1 
 
 Like soft, smooth oil, outblazing other fires ! 585
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 89 
 
 Can prayer, can praise avert it ? Thou, my all ! 
 
 My theme, my inspiration, and my crown ! 
 
 My strength in age, my rise in low estate ! 
 
 My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth, my world ! 
 
 My light in darkness, and my life in death ! 590 
 
 My boast through time, bliss through eternity ! 
 
 Eternity, too short to speak Thy praise,* 
 
 Or fathom Thy profound of love to man ! 
 
 To man of men the meanest, e'en to me ; 
 
 My Sacrifice, my God ! what things are these] 595 
 
 WHAT then art THOU ] By what name shall I call Thee 1 
 
 Knew I the name devout archangels use, 
 
 Devout archangels should the name enjoy, 
 
 By me unrivall'd : thousands more sublime, 
 
 None half so dear as that which, though unspoke, 600 
 
 Still glows at heart. how Omnipotence 
 
 Is lost in Love ! Thou great PHILANTHROPIST ! 
 
 Father of angels, but the friend of man ! 
 
 Like JACOB, fondest of the younger born ! 
 
 Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smoking brand 605 
 
 From out the flames, and quench it in Thy blood ! 
 
 How art Thou pleased, by bounty to distress, 
 
 To make us groan beneath our gratitude, 
 
 Too big for birth ! to favour, and confound ! 
 
 To challenge and to distance all return ! 610 
 
 Of lavish love stupendous heights to soar, 
 
 And leave Praise panting in the distant vale ! 
 
 Thy right too great defrauds Thee of Thy due ; 
 
 And sacrilegious our sublimest song. 
 
 But since the naked will obtains Thy smile, 615 
 
 Beneath this monument of praise unpaid, 
 
 * Young seems to have borrowed this phrase from the last verse 
 of his friend Addison's " Hymn on Providence : " 
 " For, O ! eternity 'g too short 
 
 To utter all Thy praise." EDIT. 
 I 3
 
 90 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IV. 
 
 And future life symphonious to my strain, 
 
 (That noblest hymn to Heaven,) for ever lie 
 
 Entomb'd my Fear of Death ! and every fear, 
 
 The dread of every evil, but Thy frown. 620 
 
 WHOM see I yonder so demurely smile 1 
 
 Laughter a labour, and might break their rest. 
 
 Ye Quietists, in homage to the skies ! 
 
 Serene, of soft address ! who mildly make 
 
 An unobtrusive tender of your hearts, 625 
 
 Abhorring violence ! who halt indeed, 
 
 But for the blessing wrestle not with Heaven ! 
 
 Think you my song too turbulent, too warm ? 
 
 Are passions, then, the Pagans of the soul ] 
 
 Reason alone baptized ? alone ordain'd 630 
 
 To touch things sacred 1 O for warmer still ! 
 
 Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumbs my powers : 
 
 O for an humbler heart, and prouder song ! 
 
 THOU, my much-injured theme ! with that soft eye 
 
 Which melted o'er doom'd Salem, deign to look 635 
 
 Compassion to the coldness of my breast, 
 
 And pardon to the winter in my strain. 
 
 YE cold-hearted, frozen formalists ! 
 
 On such a theme, 't is impious to be calm ; 
 
 Passion is reason, transport temper, here. 640 
 
 Shall Heaven, which gave us ardour, and has shown 
 
 Her own for man so strongly, not disdain 
 
 What smooth emollients in theology 
 
 Recumbent Virtue's downy doctors preach, 
 
 That prose of piety, a lukewarm praise 1 615 
 
 Rise odours sweet from incense uninflamed 1 
 
 Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout ; 
 
 But when it glows, its heat is struck to heaven ; 
 
 To human hearts her golden harps are strung ; 
 
 High heaven's orchestra chants Amen to man. 650
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 91 
 
 HEAR I, or dream I hear, their distant strain, 
 
 Sweet to the soul, and tasting strong of heaven, 
 
 Soft-wafted on celestial Pity's plume, 
 
 Through the vast spaces of the universe, 
 
 To cheer me in this melancholy gloom ? 655 
 
 when will Death, (now stingless,) like a friend, 
 
 Admit me of their choir 1 when will Death 
 
 This mouldering, old partition-wall throw down 1 
 
 Give beings, one in nature, one abode ? 
 
 Death Divine ! that giv'st us to the skies ! 660 
 
 Great Future ! glorious Patron of the Past 
 
 And Present ! when shall I thy shrine adore ? 
 
 From Nature's continent, immensely wide, 
 
 Immensely bless'd, this little isle of life, 
 
 This dark, incarcerating colony, 665 
 
 Divides us. Happy day that breaks our chain ! 
 
 That manumits ; that calls from exile home ; 
 
 That leads to Nature's great metropolis, 
 
 And re-admita us, through the guardian hand 
 
 Of elder brothers, to our Father's throne, 670 
 
 Who hears our Advocate, and, through his wounds 
 
 Beholding man, allows that tender name. 
 
 'T is this makes Christian triumph a command ; 
 
 'T is this makes joy a duty to the wise : 
 
 'T is impious in a good man to be sad. 675 
 
 SEEST thou, LORENZO, where hangs all our hope ? 
 
 Touch'd by the Cross, we live, or more than die ; 
 
 That touch which touch'd not angels ; more Divine 
 
 Than that which touch'd confusion into form, 
 
 And darkness into glory : partial touch ! 680 
 
 Ineffably pre-eminent regard ! 
 
 Sacred to man, and sovereign through the whole 
 
 Long golden chain of miracles, which hangs 
 
 From heaven through all duration, and supports, 
 
 In one illustrious and amazing plan, 685
 
 92 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Thy welfare, Nature, and thy God's renown ; 
 That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul 
 Diseased, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death, 
 Turns earth to heaven, to heavenly thrones transforms 
 The ghastly ruins of the mouldering tomb. 690 
 
 DOST ask me when? When HE who died returns! 
 
 Returns, how changed ! Where then the Man of Woe 1 
 
 In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns ; 
 
 And all His courts, exhausted by the tide 
 
 Of deities triumphant in His train, 695 
 
 Leave a stupendous solitude in heaven ; 
 
 Replenish'd soon, replenish'd with increase 
 
 Of pomp and multitude ; a radiant band 
 
 Of angels new, of angels from the tomb. 
 
 Is this by Fancy thrown remote ? and rise 700 
 
 Dark doubts between the promise and event ] 
 
 I send thee not to volumes for thy cure ; 
 
 Read Nature ; Nature is a friend to truth ; 
 
 Nature is Christian ; preaches to mankind, 
 
 And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 705 
 
 Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight? 
 
 The' illustrious stranger, passing, terror sheds 
 
 On gazing nations, from his fiery train 
 
 Of length enormous ; takes his ample round 
 
 Through depths? of ether ; coasts unnumber'd worlds 710 
 
 Of more than solar glory ; doubles wide 
 
 Heaven's mighty cape ; and then revisits earth, 
 
 From the long travel of a thousand years. 
 
 Thus, at the destined period, shall return 
 
 HE, once on earth, who bids the comet blaze ; 715 
 
 And, with Him, all our triumph o'er the tomb. 
 
 NATURE is dumb on this important point, 
 Or Hope precarious in low whisper breathes : 
 Faith speaks aloud, distinct ; e'en adders hear,
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 
 
 But turn, and dart into the dark again. 720 
 
 Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of Death, 
 
 To break the shock blind Nature cannot shun, 
 
 And lands Thought smoothly on the farther shore. 
 
 Death's terror is the mountain Faith removes, 
 
 That mountain-barrier between man and peace. 725 
 
 'T is Faith disarms Destruction, and absolves 
 
 From every clamorous charge the guiltless tomb. 
 
 WHY disbelieve, LORENZO? "Reason bids, 
 
 All-sacred Reason." Hold her sacred still ; 
 
 Nor shalt thou want a rival in thy flame. 730 
 
 All-sacred Reason ! source and soul of all 
 
 Demanding praise, on earth, or earth above ! 
 
 My heart is thine : deep in its inmost folds 
 
 Live thou with life ; live dearer of the two. 
 
 Wear I the blessed Cross, by Fortune stamp'd 735 
 
 On passive Nature before Thought was born 1 
 
 My birth's blind bigot ! fired with local zeal ! 
 
 No ; Reason re-baptized me when adult, 
 
 Weigh'd true and false in her impartial scale ; 
 
 My heart became the convert of my head, 740 
 
 And made that choice which once was but my fate. 
 
 " On argument alone my faith is built : " 
 
 Reason pursued is Faith ; and, unpursued, 
 
 Where proof invites, 't is Reason then no more ; 
 
 And such our proof, that or our Faith is right, 745 
 
 Or Reason lies, and Heaven design'd it wrong. 
 
 Absolve we this 1 what then is blasphemy 1 
 
 FOND as we are, and justly fond, of Faith, 
 
 Reason, we grant, demands our first regard ; 
 
 The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear. 750 
 
 Reason the root, fair Faith is but the flower : 
 
 The fading flower shall die, but Reason lives 
 
 Immortal as her Father in the skies.
 
 94 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IV. 
 
 When Faith is virtue, Keason makes it so. 
 
 Wrong not the Christian : think not Reason yours ; 755 
 
 'T is Reason our great Master holds so dear ; 
 
 'T is Reason's injured rights His -wrath resents ; 
 
 'T is Reason's voice obey'd His glories crown : 
 
 To give lost Reason life, He pour'd His own. 
 
 Believe, and shc-w the reason of a man ; 760 
 
 Believe, and taste the pleasure of a God ; 
 
 Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
 
 Through Reason's wounds alone thy Faith can die ; 
 
 Which, dying, tenfold terror gives to Death, 
 
 And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting. 765 
 
 LEARN hence what honours, what loud paeans, due 
 
 To those who push our antidote aside ; 
 
 Those boasted friends to Reason and to man, 
 
 Whose fatal love stabs every joy, and leaves 
 
 Death's terror heighten'd, gnawing on his heart. 770 
 
 These pompous sons of Reason idolized, 
 
 And vilified at once ; of Reason dead, 
 
 Then deified, as monarchs were of old ; 
 
 What conduct plants proud laurels on their brow ? 
 
 While love of truth through all their camp resounds, 775 
 
 They draw Pride's curtain o'er the noon-tide ray, 
 
 Spike up their inch of reason on the point 
 
 Of philosophic wit, call'd Argument, 
 
 And then, exulting in their taper, cry, 
 
 " Behold the sun ! " and, Indian-like, adore. 780 
 
 TALK they of morals ] Thou bleeding Love ! 
 
 Thou Maker of new morals to mankind ! 
 
 The grand morality is love of Thee. 
 
 As wise as SOCRATES, if such they were, 
 
 (Nor will they 'bate of that sublime renown,) 785 
 
 "As wise as SOCRATES," might justly stand 
 
 The definition of a modern fool.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 95 
 
 A CHRISTIAN is the highest style of man. 
 
 And is there who the blessed cross wipes off, 
 
 As a foul blot, from his dishonour'd brow ? 790 
 
 If angels tremble, 't is at such a sight ; 
 
 The wretch they quit, desponding of their charge, 
 
 More struck with grief or wonder who can tell 1 
 
 YE sold to sense ! ye citizens of earth ! 
 
 (For such alone the Christian banner fly,) 795 
 
 Know ye how wise your choice, how great your gain ? 
 
 Behold the picture of earth's happiest man : 
 
 " He calls his wish, it comes ; he sends it back, 
 
 And says he call'd another ; that arrives, 
 
 Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on ; 800 
 
 Till One calls him, who varies not His call, 
 
 But holds him fast in chains of darkness bound, 
 
 Till Nature dies, and Judgment sets him free ; 
 
 A freedom far less welcome than his chain." 
 
 BUT grant man happy ; grant him happy long; 805 
 
 Add to life's highest prize her latest hour ; 
 
 That hour, so late, is nimble in approach, 
 
 That, like a post, comes on in full career. 
 
 How swift the shuttle flies that weaves thy shroud ! 
 
 Where is the fable of thy former years ? 810 
 
 Thrown down the gulf of time ; as far from thee 
 
 As they had ne'er been thine ; the day in hand, 
 
 Like a bird struggling to get loose, is going ; 
 
 Scarce now possess'd, so suddenly 't is gone ; 
 
 And each swift moment, fled, is death advanced 815 
 
 By strides as swift. Eternity is ail ; 
 
 And whose eternity 1 who triumphs there ? 
 
 Bathing for ever in the font of bliss ! 
 
 For ever basking in the Deity ! 
 
 LORENZO, who 1 Thy conscience shall reply. 820
 
 96 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IV. 
 
 GIVE it leave to speak ; 't will speak ere long, 
 
 Thy leave unask'd : LOKENZO, hear it now, 
 
 While useful its advice, its accent mild. 
 
 By the great edict, the Divine decree, 
 
 Truth is deposited with man's last hour ; 825 
 
 An honest hour, and faithful to her trust. 
 
 Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity ! 
 
 Truth, of His council when He made the worlds ; 
 
 Nor less, when He shall judge the worlds He made ! 
 
 Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 830 
 
 Smother'd with errors, and oppress'd with toys, 
 
 That heaven-commission'd hour no sooner calls 
 
 But from her cavern in the soul's abyss, 
 
 Like him they fahle under ^Etna whelm'd, 
 
 The goddess bursts in thunder and in flame, 835 
 
 Loudly convinces, and severely pains. 
 
 Dark demons I discharge, and hydra-stings ; 
 
 The keen vibration of bright Truth is hell : 
 
 Just definition ! though by schools untaught. 
 
 Ye deaf to Truth, peruse this parson'd page, 840 
 
 And trust, for once, a prophet and a priest : 
 
 " Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die."
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NiGHT V. 
 
 THE RELAPSE. 
 
 HCMBI.Y INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON. THE KARL OJf 
 LICHPIELD.
 
 NIGHT V. 
 
 THE RELAPSE. 
 
 LORENZO ! to recriminate is just. 
 
 Fondness for fame is avarice of air. 
 
 I grant the man is vain who writes for praise. 
 
 Praise no man e'er deserved, who sought no more. 
 
 As just thy second charge. I grant the Muse 5 
 
 Has often blush'd at her degenerate sons, 
 
 Retain'd hy Sense to plead her filthy cause ; 
 
 To raise the low, to magnify the mean, 
 
 And subtilize the gross into refined : 
 
 As if to magic numbers' powerful charm 10 
 
 'T was given to make a civet of their song 
 
 Obscene, and sweeten ordure to perfume. 
 
 Wit, a true Pagan, deifies the brute, 
 
 And lifts our swine-enjoyments from the mire. 
 
 THE fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. 15 
 
 We wear the chains of Pleasure and of Pride : 
 
 These share the man ; and these distract him too ; 
 
 Draw different ways, and clash in their commands. 
 
 Pride, like an eagle, builds among the stars ; 
 
 But Pleasure, lark-like, nests upon the ground. 20 
 
 Joys shared by brute-creation Pride resents, 
 
 Pleasure embraces. Man would both enjoy, 
 
 And both at once : a point how hard to jrain ! 
 
 But what can't Wit, when stung by strong desire ? 
 
 WIT dares attempt this arduous enterprise. 25 
 
 Since joys of Sense can't rise to Reason's taste, 
 K 2
 
 100 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 In subtle Sophistry's laborious forge 
 
 Wit hammers out a reason new, that stoops 
 
 To sordid scenes, and greets* them with applause. 
 
 Wit calls the Graces the chaste zone to loose, 30 
 
 Nor less than a plump god to fill the bowl ; 
 
 A thousand phantoms, and a thousand spells, 
 
 A thousand opiates scatters to delude, 
 
 To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep, 
 
 And the fool'd mind delightfully confound. 35 
 
 Thus that which shock'd the Judgment, shocks no more ; 
 
 That which gave Pride offence, no more offends. 
 
 Pleasure and Pride, by nature mortal foes, 
 
 At war eternal which in man shall reign, 
 
 By Wit's address, patch up a fatal peace, 40 
 
 And hand in hand lead on the rank debauch, 
 
 From rank refined to delicate and gay. 
 
 Art, cursed Art ! wipes off the' indebted blush 
 
 From Nature's cheek, and bronzes every shame. 
 
 Man smiles in ruin, glories in his guilt, 45 
 
 And Infamy stands candidate for praise. 
 
 ALL writ by man in favour of the soul 
 
 These sensual ethics far in bulk transcend. 
 
 The flowers of eloquence profusely pour'd 
 
 O'er spotted Vice, fill half the letter' d world. 50 
 
 Can powers of genius exorcise their page, 
 
 And consecrate enormities with song 1 
 
 BUT let not these inexpiable strains 
 
 Condemn the Muse that knows her dignity ; 
 
 Nor meanly stops at Time, but holds the world 55 
 
 As 't is, in Nature's ample field, a point 
 
 A point in her esteem ; from whence to start, 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto and octavo impressions ; but meclt 
 occurs first in the text of the collected Works, in 1762. EDIT.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 101 
 
 And run the round of universal space, 
 
 To visit being universal there, 
 
 And Being's Source, that utmost flight of mind ! 60 
 
 Yet, spite of this so vast circumference, 
 
 Well knows, but what is moral, nought is great. 
 
 Sing sirens only ] Do not argels sing 1 
 
 There is in Poesy a decent pride, 
 
 Which well becomes her when she speaks to Prose, 65 
 
 Her younger sister ; haply, not more wise. 
 
 THINK'ST thou, LORENZO, to find pastimes here ? 
 
 No guilty passion blown into a flame, 
 
 No foible flatter'd, dignity disgraced, 
 
 No fairy field of fiction, all on flower, 70 
 
 No rainbow colours here, or silken tale; 
 
 But solemn counsels, images of awe, 
 
 Truths which Eternity lets fall on man 
 
 With double weight, through these revolving spheres, 
 
 This death-deep silence, and incumbent shade : 75 
 
 Thoughts such as shall revisit your last hour ; 
 
 Tisit uncall'd, and live when life expires : 
 
 And thy dark pencil, Midnight, darker still 
 
 In melancholy dipp'd, embrowns the whole. 
 
 YET this, e'en this, my laughter-loving friends ! 80 
 
 LORENZO, and thy brothers of the smile ! 
 
 If what imports you most can most engage, 
 
 Shall steal your ear, and chain you to my song 
 
 Or if you fail me, know, the wise shall taste 
 
 The truths I sing ; the truths I sing shall feel ; 85 
 
 And, feeling, give assent ; and their assent 
 
 Is ample recompence ; is more than praise. 
 
 But chiefly thine, LICHFIELD ! nor mistake : 
 
 Think not unintroduced I force my way ; 
 
 NAKCTSSA, not unknown, not unallied, 90 
 
 By virtue or by blood, illustrious youth, 
 
 K 3
 
 102 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIG1IT Y. 
 
 To thee, from blooming amaranthine bowers, 
 
 Where all the language harmony, descends 
 
 Uneall'd, and asks admittance for the Muse ; 
 
 A Muse that will not pain thee with thy praise ; 95 
 
 Thy praise she drops, by nobler still inspired. 
 
 THOU blest Spirit ! whether the supreme, 
 
 Great antemundane Father ! in whose breast 
 
 Embryo-creation, unborn being, dwelt, 
 
 And all its various revolutions roll'd 100 
 
 Present, though future, prior to themselves ; 
 
 Whose breath can blow it into nought again,- 
 
 Or from His throne some delegated Power, 
 
 Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought 
 
 From vain and vile to solid and sublime ! 105 
 
 Unseen Thou lead'st me to delicious draughts 
 
 Of inspiration, from a purer stream, 
 
 And fuller of the God, than that which burst 
 
 From famed Castalia : nor is yet allay'd 
 
 My sacred thirst; though long my soul has ranged 110 
 
 Through pleasing paths of moral and Divine, 
 
 By Thee sustain'd, and lighted by the STARS. 
 
 BY them best lighted are the paths of thought : 
 
 Nights are their days, their most illumined hours. 
 
 By day the soul, o'erborne by life's career, 115 
 
 Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, 
 
 Heels far from reason, jostled by the throng. 
 
 By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts 
 
 Imposed, precarious, broken, ere mature. 
 
 By night, from objects free, from passion cool. 120 
 
 Thoughts uncontroll'd and unimpress'd, the births 
 
 Of pure election, arbitrary range, 
 
 Not to the limits of one world confined, 
 
 But from ethereal travels light on earth, 
 
 As voyagers drop anchor, for repose. 125
 
 THE RELAPSE. 103 
 
 LET Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond 
 
 Of feather 'd fopperies, the sun adore : 
 
 Darkness has more divinity for me : 
 
 It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the soul 
 
 To settle on herself, our point supreme ! 130 
 
 There lies our theatre ; there sits our judge. 
 
 Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene ; 
 
 'T is the kind hand of Providence stretch'd out 
 
 Twixt man and vanity ; 't is Reason's reign, 
 
 And Virtue's too ; these tutelary shades 135 
 
 Are man's asylum from the tainted throng. 
 
 Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too ; 
 
 It no less rescues Virtue than inspires. 
 
 VIKTUK for ever frail, as fair, below, 
 
 Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, .140 
 
 Nor touches on the world without a stain. 
 
 The world '& infectious ; few bring back at eve, 
 
 Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 
 
 Something we thought, is blotted ; we resolved, 
 
 Is shaken; we renounced, returns again. 145 
 
 Each salutation may slide-in a siu 
 
 Uuthought before, or fix a former flaw. 
 
 Nor is it strange ; light, motion, concourse, noise, 
 
 All scatter us abroad ; Thought, outward-bound. 
 
 Neglectful of our home-affairs, flies off 150 
 
 In fume and dissipation, quits her charge, 
 
 And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe. 
 
 PKESENT example gets within our guard, 
 
 And acts with double force, by few repell'd. 
 
 Ambition fires ambition ; love of gain 155 
 
 Strikes like a pestilence, from breast to breast ; 
 
 Riot, pride, perfidy, blue vapours breathe ; 
 
 And inhumanity is caught from man, 
 
 From smiling man ! A slight, a single glance,
 
 104 BIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And shot at random, often has brought home 160 
 
 A sudden fever to the throbbing heart 
 
 Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 
 
 We see, we hear, with peril ; Safety dwells 
 
 Remote from multitude ; the world 's a school 
 
 Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around ! 165 
 
 We must or imitate or disapprove ; 
 
 Must list as their accomplices, or foes ; 
 
 That stains our innocence, this wounds our peace. 
 
 From Nature's birth, hence, Wisdom has been smit 
 
 With sweet recess, and languish'd for the shade. 170 
 
 THIS sacred shade and solitude, what is it* 
 
 'T is the felt presence of the Deity. 
 
 Few are the faults we flatter when alone. 
 
 Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt, 
 
 And looks, like other objects, black by night : 175 
 
 By night an Atheist half-believes a God. 
 
 NIGHT is fair Virtue's immemorial friend ; 
 
 The conscious Moon, through every distant age, 
 
 Has held a lamp to Wisdom, and let fall 
 
 On Contemplation's eye her purging ray. 180 
 
 The famed Athenian, he who woo'd from heaven 
 
 Philosophy the fair, to dwell with men, 
 
 And form their manners, not inflame their pride, 
 
 While o'er his head, as fearful to molest 
 
 His labouring mind, the stars in silence slide, 185 
 
 And seem all gazing on their future guest, 
 
 See him soliciting his ardent suit 
 
 In private audience : all the live-long night, 
 
 Eigid in thought, and motionless, he stands ; 
 
 Nor quits his theme or posture till the sun 190 
 
 (llude drunkard ! rising rosy from the main) 
 
 Disturbs his nobler intellectual beam, 
 
 And gives him to the tumult of the world.
 
 All ih.- W-lcmg-Trighl. 
 Rigirl in tJuni^ht. and motionless, he stands. 
 

 
 THE RELAPSE. 105 
 
 Hail, precious moments, stolen from the black waste 
 
 Of murder'd Time! auspicious Midnight, hail ! 195 
 
 The world excluded, every passion hush'd, 
 
 And open'd a calm intercourse with Heaven, 
 
 Here the soul sits in council ; ponders past, 
 
 Predestines future action ; sees, not feels, 
 
 Tumultuous life, and reasons with the storm ; 200 
 
 All her lies answers, and thinks down her charms. 
 
 WHAT awful joy ! what mental liberty ! 
 
 I am not pent in darkness : rather say, 
 
 (If not too bold,) in darkness I 'm embower'd. 
 
 Delightful gloom ! the clustering thoughts around 205 
 
 Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade ; 
 
 But droop by day, and sicken in the sun. 
 
 Thought borrows light elsewhere ; from that first fire, 
 
 Fountain of animation, whence descends 
 
 UKANIA, my celestial guest ! who deigns 210 
 
 Nightly to visit me, so mean ; and now, 
 
 Conscious how needful discipline to nnn, 
 
 From pleasing dalliance with the charms of Night, 
 
 My wandering thought recalls, to what excites 
 
 Far other beat of heart, NARCISSA'S tomb ! 215 
 
 OR is it feeble Nature calls me back, 
 
 And breaks my spirit into grief again ? 
 
 Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood, 
 
 A cold, slow puddle, creeping through my veins I 
 
 Or is it thus with all men 1 Thus with all. 220 
 
 What are we] how unequal ! now we soar, 
 
 And now we sink. To be the same, transcend* 
 
 Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul 
 
 For lodging ill ; too dearly rents her clay. 
 
 Reason, a baffled counsellor, but adds 225 
 
 The blush of weakness to the bane of woe. 
 
 The noblest spirit,, fighting her hard fate
 
 106 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms, 
 
 But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly ; 
 
 Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall. 230 
 
 Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again ; 
 
 And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise. 
 
 'T is vain to seek in men for more than man. 
 
 Though proud in promise, big in previous thought, 
 
 Experience damps our triumph. I, who late, 235 
 
 Emerging from the shadows of the grave, 
 
 Where Grief detain' d me prisoner, mounting high, 
 
 Threw wide the gates of everlasting day, 
 
 And call'd mankind to glory, shook off pain, 
 
 Mortality shook off, in ether pure, 240 
 
 And struck the stars ; now feel my spirits fail : 
 
 They drop me from the zenith ; down I rush. 
 
 Like him whom Fable fledged with waxen wings, 
 
 In sorrow drown'd but not in sorrow lost. 
 
 How wretched is the man who never mourn'd ! 245 
 
 I dive for precious pearl in sorrow's stream : 
 
 Not so the thoughtless man that only grieves ; 
 
 Takes all the torment, and rejects the gain, 
 
 (Inestimable gain !) and gives Heaven leave 
 
 To make him but more wretched, not more wise. 250 
 
 IP wisdom is our lesson, (and what else 
 
 Ennobles man ? what else have angels learnt 1) 
 
 Grief, more proficients in thy school are made 
 
 Than Genius, or proud Learning, e'er could boast. 
 
 Voracious Learning, often over-fed, 255 
 
 Digests not into sense her motley meal. 
 
 This Book-case, with dark booty almost burst, 
 
 This forager on others' wisdom, leaves 
 
 Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd. 
 
 With mix'd manure she surfeits the rank soil, 260 
 
 Dung'd, but not dress'd, and rich to beggary.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 107 
 
 A pomp untameable of weeds prevails. 
 
 Her servant's wealth encumber'd AVisdom mourns. 
 
 AND what says Genius ? " Let the dull be wise." 
 
 Genius, too hard for right, can prove it wrong ; 265 
 
 And loves to boast where blush men less inspired. 
 
 It pleads exemption from the laws of Sense ; 
 
 Considers Reason as a leveller ; 
 
 And scorns to share a blessing with the crowd ; 
 
 That wise it coidd be, thinks an ample claim 270 
 
 To Glory, and to Pleasure gives the rest. 
 
 CRASSUS but sleeps, ARUELIO is undone. 
 
 Wisdom less shudders at a fool than wit. 
 
 BUT Wisdom smiles when humbled mortals weep. 
 
 When Sorrow wounds the breast, as ploughs the glebe, 275 
 
 And hearts obdurate feel her softening shower j 
 
 Her seed celestial, then, glad Wisdom sows ; 
 
 Her golden harvest triumphs in the soil. 
 
 If so, NAHCISSA ! welcome my Relapse : 
 
 1 11 raise a tax on my calamity, 280 
 
 And reap rich compensation from my pain. 
 
 I '11 range the plenteous intellectual field ; 
 
 And gather every thought of sovereign power, 
 
 To chase the moral maladies of man ; 
 
 Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, 285 
 
 Though natives of this coarse penurious soil ; 
 
 Nor wholly wither there, where seraphs sing, 
 
 Refined, exalted, not aunull'd, in heaven : 
 
 Reason, the sun that gives them birth, the same 
 
 In either clime, though more illustrious there. 290 
 
 These, choicely cull'd, and elegantly ranged, 
 
 Shall form a garland for NARCISSA'S tomb j 
 
 And, peradventure, of no fading flowers. 
 
 SAT, on what themes shall puzzled choice descend 1 
 
 " The' importance of contemplating the tomb ; 295
 
 108 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIQIIT V. 
 
 Why men decline it ; Suicide's foul birth ; 
 The various kinds of Grief; the faults of Age ; 
 And Death's dread character," invite my song. 
 
 AND, first, the' importance of our end survey 'd. 
 
 Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief. 300 
 
 Mistaken kindness ! our hearts heal too soon. 
 
 Are they more kind than He who struck the blow, 
 
 Who bid it do His errand in our hearts, 
 
 And banish peace, till nobler guests arrive, 
 
 And bring it back a true and endless peace 1 305 
 
 Calamities are friends : as glaring day 
 
 Of these unnumber'd lustres robs our sight, 
 
 Prosperity puts out unnumber'd thoughts 
 
 Of import high, and light Divine, to man. 
 
 THE man how bless'd, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 310 
 
 (Scenes apt to thrust between us and ourselves !) 
 
 Is led by choice to take his favourite walk 
 
 Beneath Death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, 
 
 Unpierced by Vanity's fantastic ray ; 
 
 To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 315 
 
 Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 
 
 LORENZO ! read with me NAKCISSA'S stone ; 
 
 (NAKCISSA was thy favourite ;) let us read 
 
 Her moral stone : few doctors preach so well ; 
 
 Few orators so tenderly can touch 320 
 
 The feeling heart. What pathos in the date ! 
 
 Apt words can strike ; and yet in them we see 
 
 Faint images of what we here enjoy. 
 
 What cause have we to build on length of life ? 
 
 Temptations seize when Fear is laid asleep, 325 
 
 And 111 foreboded is our strongest guard. 
 
 SEE, from her tomb, as from an humble shrine, 
 Truth, radiant goddess, sallies on my soul,
 
 THE RELAPSE. 109 
 
 And puts Delusion's dusky train to flight ; 
 
 Dispels the mists our sultry passions raise, 330 
 
 From objects low, terrestrial, and obscene ; 
 
 And shows the real estimate of things, 
 
 Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw ; 
 
 Pulls off the veil from Virtue's rising charms ; 
 
 Detects Temptation in a thousand lies. 335 
 
 Truth bids me look on men as autumn leaves, 
 
 And all they bleed for as the summer's dust, 
 
 Driven by the whirlwind. Lighted by her beams, 
 
 I widen my horizon, gain new powers, 
 
 See things invisible, feel things remote, 340 
 
 Am present with futurities ; think nought 
 
 To man so foreign as the joys possess'd, 
 
 Nought so much his as those beyond the grave. 
 
 No folly keeps its colour in her sight ; 
 
 Pale worldly Wisdom loses all her charms ; 345 
 
 In pompous promise from her schemes profound, 
 
 If future fate she plans, 't is all in leaves, 
 
 Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss ! 
 
 At the first blast it vanishes in air. 
 
 Not so celestial. Wouldst thou know, LOKENZO, 350 
 
 How differ worldly Wisdom and Divine ? 
 
 Just as the waning and the waxing moon. 
 
 More empty worldly Wisdom every day, 
 
 And every day more fair her rival shines. 
 
 When later, there 's less time to play the fool. 355 
 
 Soon our whole term for Wisdom is expired, 
 
 (Thou know'st she calls no council in the grave,) 
 
 And "everlasting fool" is writ in fire, 
 
 Or real Wisdom wafts us to the skies. 
 
 As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, 360 
 
 The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare, 
 (In ancient story read, thou know'st the tale,)
 
 110 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 In price still rising, as in number less ; 
 
 Inestimable quite his final hour. 
 
 For that, who thrones can offer, offer thrones : 3C5 
 
 Insolvent worlds the purchase cannot pay. 
 
 " let me die his death ! " all Nature cries. 
 
 " Then live his life ! " all Nature falters there. 
 
 Our great Physician daily to consult, 
 
 To commune with the Grave, our only cure. 370 
 
 WHAT grave prescribes the best 1 A friend's ; and yet 
 
 From a friend's grave how soon we disengage ! 
 
 E'en to the dearest, as his marble, cold. 
 
 Why are friends ravish'd from us ] 'T is to bind, 
 
 By soft Affection's ties, on human hearts, 375 
 
 The thought of death, which Reason, too supine, 
 
 Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens there. 
 
 Nor Reason, nor Affection, no, nor both 
 
 Combined, can break the witchcrafts of the world. 
 
 Behold the' inexorable hour at hand ! 380 
 
 Behold the' inexorable hour forgot ! 
 
 And to forget it the chief aim of life, 
 
 Though well to ponder it is life's chief end. 
 
 Is Death, that ever threatening, ne'er remote, 
 
 That all-important, and that only sure, 385 
 
 (Come when he will,) an unexpected guest 1 
 
 Nay, though invited by the loudest calls 
 
 Of blind Imprudence, unexpected still 1 
 
 Though numerous messengers are sent before, 
 
 To warn his great arrival. What the cause, 390 
 
 The wondrous cause, of this mysterious ill 1 
 
 All heaven looks down, astonish'd at the sight. 
 
 IB it, that Life has sown her joys so thick, 
 We can't thrust in a single care between ? 
 Is it, that Life has such a swarm of cares, 395
 
 THE RELAPSE. Ill 
 
 The thought of death can't enter for the throng ? 
 
 Is it, that Time steals on with downy feet, 
 
 Nor wakes Indulgence from her golden dream ? 
 
 To-day is so like yesterday, it cheats ; 
 
 We take the lying sister for the same. 400 
 
 Life glides away, LORENZO, like a brook ; 
 
 For ever changing, unperceived the change. 
 
 In the same brook none ever bathed him twice : 
 
 To the same life none ever twice awoke. 
 
 We call the brook the same ; the same we think 405 
 
 Our life, though still more rapid in its flow ; 
 
 Nor mark the much irrevocably lapsed, 
 
 And mingled with the sea. Or shall we say, 
 
 (Retaining still the brook to bear us on,) 
 
 That life is like a vessel on the stream ?- 410 
 
 In life embark'd, we smoothly down the tide 
 
 Of time descend, but not on time intent ; 
 
 Amused, unconscious of the gliding wave ; 
 
 Till on a sudden we perceive a shock ; 
 
 We start, awake, look out ; what see we there 1 415 
 
 Our brittle bark is burst on Charon's shore. 
 
 Is this the cause Death flies all human thought ] 
 Or is it Judgment by the Will struck blind, 
 (That domineering mistress of the soul,) 
 Like him so strong, by Delilah the fair? 420 
 
 Or is it Fear turns startled Reason back, 
 From looking down a precipice so steep 1 
 'T is dreadful ; and the dread is wisely placed, 
 By Nature, conscious of the make of man. 
 A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind, 425 
 
 A flaming sword to guard the tree of life. 
 By that unawed, in life's most smiling hour, 
 The good man would repine ; would suffer joys, 
 And burn impatient for his promised skies. 
 The bad, on each punctilious pique of Pride, 430 
 
 L 2
 
 112 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT T. 
 
 Or gloom of Humour, would give Rage the rein. 
 
 
 Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark, 
 
 
 And mar the schemes* of Providence below. 
 
 
 WHAT groan was that, LORENZO ? Furies ! rise ; 
 
 
 And drown, in your less execrable yell, 
 
 435 
 
 Britannia's shame. There took her gloomy flight, 
 
 
 On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul, 
 
 
 Blasted from hell, with horrid lust of death, 
 
 
 Thy friend, the brave, the gallant Altamont, 
 
 
 So call'd, so thought : and then he fled the field. 
 
 440 
 
 Less base the fear of death than fear of life. 
 
 
 Britain, infamous for suicide ! 
 
 
 An island in thy manners ! far disjoin'd 
 
 
 From the whole world of rationals beside ! 
 
 
 In ambient waves plunge thy polluted head, 
 
 445 
 
 Wash the dire stain, nor shock the Continent. 
 
 
 BUT thou be shock'd, while I detect the cause 
 
 
 Of Self-Assault, expose the monsters birth, 
 
 
 And bid Abhorrence hiss it round the world. 
 
 
 Blame not thy clime, nor chide the distant sun ; 
 
 450 
 
 The sun is innocent, thy clime absolved : 
 
 
 Immoral climes kind Nature never made. 
 
 
 The cause I sing in Eden might prevail, 
 
 
 And proves it is thy folly, not thy fate. 
 
 
 THE soul of man, (let man in homage bow, 
 
 455 
 
 Who names his soul,) a native of the skies, 
 
 
 High-born and free, her freedom should maintain, 
 
 
 Unsold, unmortgaged for Earth's little bribes. 
 
 
 The' illustrious stranger, in this foreign land, 
 
 
 Like strangers, jealous of her dignity, 
 
 4CO 
 
 * This is the reading of the early quarto and octavo impressions. 
 
 In 
 
 the collected Works, (1762,) it was altered to scenes. EDIT. 

 
 THE RKLAPSE. 118 
 
 Studious of home, and ardent to return, 
 
 Of Earth suspicious, Earth's enchanted cup 
 
 With cool reserve light touching, should indulge 
 
 On Immortality her godlike taste ; 
 
 There take large draughts ; make her chief banquet there. 
 
 BUT some reject this sustenance Divine ; 466 
 
 To beggarly vile appetites descend ; 
 
 Ask alms of Earth for guests that came from heaven ; 
 
 Sink into slaves; and sell, for present hire, 
 
 Their rich reversion, and (what shares its fate) 470 
 
 Their native freedom, to the prince who sways 
 
 This nether world ; and, when his payments fail, 
 
 When his foul basket gorges them no more, 
 
 Or their pall'd palates loathe the basket full, 
 
 Are instantly, with wild demoniac rage, 475 
 
 For breaking all the chains of Providence, 
 
 And bursting their confinement ; though fast barr'd 
 
 By laws Divine and human ; guarded strong 
 
 With horrors doubled to defend the pass 
 
 The blackest Nature or dire Guilt can raise ; 480 
 
 And moated round with fathomless destruction, 
 
 Sure to receive and whelm them in their fall. 
 
 SUCH, Britons ! is the cause, to you unknown, 
 Or worse, o'erlook'd ; o'erlook'd by magistrates, 
 Thus criminals themselves. I grant the deed 485 
 
 Is madness ; but the madness of the heart. 
 And what is that 1 Our utmost bound of guilt. 
 A sensual, unreflecting life is big 
 With monstrous births, and Suicide, to crown 
 The black infernal brood. The bold to break 490 
 
 Heaven's law supreme, and desperately rush 
 Through sacred Nature's murder on their own, 
 Because they never think of death, they die. 
 'T is equally man's duty, glory, gain, 
 L 3
 
 114 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 At once to shun and meditate his end. 495 
 
 When by the bed of languishment we sit, 
 
 (The seat of wisdom ! if our choice, not fate,) 
 
 Or o'er our dying friends in anguish hang, 
 
 Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head, 
 
 Number their moments, and in every clock 500 
 
 Start at the voice of an eternity ; 
 
 See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift 
 
 An agonizing beam, at us to gaze, 
 
 Then sink again, and quiver into death, 
 
 That most pathetic herald of our own : 505 
 
 How read we such sad scenes 1 as sent to man 
 
 In perfect vengeance 1 No ; in pity sent, 
 
 To melt him down, like wax, and then impress, 
 
 Indelible, Death's image on his heart j 
 
 Bleeding for others, trembling for himself. 510 
 
 We bleed, we tremble ; we forget, we smile : 
 
 The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry. 
 
 Our quick-returning folly cancels all ; 
 
 As the tide rushing rases what is writ 
 
 In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore. 515 
 
 LOKENZO ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh, 
 
 Or studied the philosophy of tears ] 
 
 (A science yet unlectured in our schools :) 
 
 Hast thou descended deep into the breast, 
 
 And seen their source ? If not, descend with me, 520 
 
 And trace these briny rivulets to their springs. 
 
 OUR funeral tears from different causes rise. 
 
 As if from separate cisterns in the soul, 
 
 Of various kinds, they flow. From tender hearts, 
 
 By soft contagion call'd, some burst at once, 525 
 
 And stream obsequious to the leading eye. 
 
 Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd. 
 
 Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt,
 
 THE RELAPSE. 115 
 
 Struck by the magic of the public eye, 
 
 Like MOSES' smitten rock, gush out amain. 530 
 
 Some weep to share the fame of the deceased, 
 
 So high in merit, and to them so dear. 
 
 They dwell on praises which they think they share ; 
 
 And thus, without a blush, commend themselves. 
 
 Some mourn in proof that something they could love ; 535 
 
 They weep, not to relieve their grief, but show. 
 
 Some weep in perfect justice to the dead, 
 
 As conscious all their love is in arrear. 
 
 Some mischievously weep, not unapprized 
 
 Tears sometimes aid the conquest of an eye. 540 
 
 With what address the soft Ephesians draw 
 
 Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts ! 
 
 As seen through crystal, how their roses glow, 
 
 While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek ! 
 
 Of hers not prouder Egypt's wanton queen, 545 
 
 Carousing gems, herself dissolved in love. 
 
 Some weep at Death, abstracted from the dead, 
 
 And celebrate, like CHABLES, their own decease. 
 
 By kind construction some are deem'd to weep, 
 
 Because a decent veil conceals their joy. 55C 
 
 SOME weep in earnest, and yet weep in vain ; 
 
 As deep in indiscretion as in woe. 
 
 Passion, blind Passion, impotently pours 
 
 Tears that deserve more tears, while Keason sleeps, 
 
 Or gazes, like an idiot, unconcern'd, 555 
 
 Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm ; 
 
 Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone. 
 
 Irrationals all sorrow are beneath, 
 
 That noble gift, that privilege of man ! 
 
 From Sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy. 560 
 
 But these are barren of that birth Divine : 
 
 They weep impetuous as the summer storm, 
 
 And full as short ! The cruel grief soon tamed,
 
 116 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 They make a pastime of the stingless tale ; 
 
 Far as the deep-resounding knell, they spread 565 
 
 The dreadful news, and hardly feel it more : 
 
 No grain of wisdom pays them for their woe. 
 
 HALF round the globe, the tears pump'd up by Death 
 
 Are spent in watering vanities of life ; 
 
 In making Folly flourish still more fair. 570 
 
 When the sick soul, her wonted stay withdrawn, 
 
 Eeclines on earth, and sorrows in the dust, 
 
 Instead of learning there her true support, 
 
 Though there thrown down her true support to learn, 
 
 Without Heaven's aid impatient to be bless'd, 575 
 
 She crawls to the next shrub or bramble vile, 
 
 Though from the stately cedar's arms she fell ; 
 
 With stale, forsworn embraces clings anew, 
 
 The stranger weds, and blossoms, as before, 
 
 In all the fruitless fopperies of life ; 580 
 
 Presents her weed, well fancied, at the ball, 
 
 And raffles for the death's-head on the ring. 
 
 So wept AURELIA, till the destined youth 
 
 Stepp'd in with his receipt for making smiles, 
 
 And blanching sables into bridal bloom. 585 
 
 So wept LORENZO fair CLARISSA'S fate, 
 
 Who gave that angel boy on whom he dotes ; 
 
 And died to give him, orphan'd in his birth ! 
 
 Not such, NARCISSA, my distress for thee ; 
 
 I '11 make an altar of thy sacred tomb, 590 
 
 To sacrifice to Wisdom. What wast thou 1 
 
 " Young, gay, and fortunate ! " Each yields a theme : 
 
 I '11 dwell on each, to shun thought more severe ; 
 
 (Heaven knows I labour with severer still !) 
 
 I '11 dwell on each, and quite exhaust thy death. 595 
 
 A soul without reflection, like a pile 
 
 Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 117 
 
 AND, first, thy youth : what says it to grey hairs 1 
 
 NARCISSA, I 'm become thy pupil now. 
 
 Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 600 
 
 She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven. 
 
 Time on this head has snow'd, yet still 't is borne 
 
 Aloft, nor thinks but on another's grave. 
 
 Cover'd with shame I speak it, Age severe 
 
 Old worn-out Vice sets down for Virtue fair ; 605 
 
 With graceless gravity chastising Youth, 
 
 That Youth chastised surpassing in a fault, 
 
 Father of all, forgetfulness of Death ! 
 
 As if, like objects pressing on the sight, 
 
 Death had advanced too near us to be seen ; 610 
 
 Or, that life's loan Time ripen'd into right, 
 
 And men might plead prescription from the grave ; 
 
 Deathless, from repetition of reprieve. 
 
 Deathless ? far from it ! such are dead already ; 
 
 Their hearts are buried ; and the world their grave. 615 
 
 TELL me, some god ! my guardian angel, tell, 
 
 What thus infatuates '! what enchantment plants 
 
 The phantom of an age 'twixt us and Death 
 
 Already at the door ] He knocks ; we hear him, 
 
 And yet we will not hear. What mail defends 620 
 
 Our untouch'd hearts ] What miracle turns off 
 
 The pointed thought, which from a thousand quivers 
 
 Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd ] 
 
 We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs 
 
 Around us falling ; wounded oft ourselves ; 625 
 
 Though bleeding with our wounds, immortal still ! 
 
 We see Time's furrows on another's brow, 
 
 And Death, intrench'd, preparing his assault : 
 
 How few themselves in that just mirror see ! 
 
 Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong ! 630 
 
 There Death is certain ; doubtful here : he must, 
 
 And soon we may, within an age expire.
 
 118 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT V. 
 
 Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green ; 
 
 Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent ; 
 
 Folly sings six, while Nature points at twelve. 635 
 
 ABSURD longevity ! " More, more," it cries : 
 
 More life, more wealth, more trash of every kind. 
 
 And wherefore mad for more, when relish fails ? 
 
 Object and Appetite must club for joy. 
 
 Shall Folly labour hard to mend the bow, 640 
 
 (Baubles I mean, that strike us from without,) 
 
 While Nature is relaxing every string 1 ? 
 
 Ask Thought for joy ; grow rich, and hoard within. 
 
 Think you the soul, when this life's rattles cease, 
 
 Has nothing of more manly to succeed? 645 
 
 Contract the taste immortal ; learn e'en now 
 
 To relish what alone subsists hereafter. 
 
 Divine or none, henceforth, your joys for ever. 
 
 Of age the glory is, to wish to die ; 
 
 That wish is praise and promise ; it applauds 650 
 
 Past life, and promises our future bliss. 
 
 What weakness see not children in their sires 1 
 
 Grand-climacterical absurdities ! 
 
 Grey-hair'd authority to faults of youth, 
 
 How shocking ! it makes Folly thrice a fool ; 655 
 
 And our first childhood might our last despise. 
 
 Peace and esteem is all that age can hope. 
 
 Nothing but wisdom gives the first ; the last, 
 
 Nothing but the repute of being wise. 
 
 Folly bars both : our age is quite undone. 660 
 
 WHAT folly can be ranker 1 Like our shadows, 
 
 Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines. 
 
 No wish should loiter, then, this side the grave. 
 
 Our hearts should leave the world before the knell 
 
 Calls for our carcasses to mend the soil. 665 
 
 Enough to live in tempest, die in port.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 119 
 
 Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat 
 
 Defects of judgment, and the will's subdue ; 
 
 Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore 
 
 Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon, 670 
 
 And put good works on board, and wait the wind 
 
 That shortly blows us into worlds unknown ; 
 
 If unconsider'd too, a dreadful scene ! 
 
 ALL should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
 
 Their future fate ; their future fate foretaste : 675 
 
 This art would waste the bitterness of death. 
 
 The thought of death alone the fear destroys. 
 
 A disaffection to that precious thought 
 
 Is more than midnight darkness on the soul, 
 
 Which sleeps beneath it, on a precipice, 680 
 
 Puff'd off by the first blast, and lost for ever. 
 
 DOST ask, LORENZO, why so warmly press'd, 
 
 By repetition hammer'd on thine ear, 
 
 The thought of Death 1 That thought is the machine, 
 
 The grand machine that heaves us from the dust, 685 
 
 And rears us into men ! That thought plied home 
 
 Will soon reduce the ghastly precipice 
 
 O'erhanging hell, will soften-the descent, 
 
 And gently slope our passage to the grave. 
 
 How warmly to be wish'd ! What heart of flesh 690 
 
 Would trifle with tremendous, dare extremes, 
 
 Yawn o'er the fate of infinite 1 What hand, 
 
 Beyond the blackest brand of censure bold, 
 
 (To speak a language too well known to thee,) 
 
 Would at a moment give its all to chance, 695 
 
 And stamp the die for an eternity ? 
 
 AID me, NARCISSA ! aid me to keep pace 
 
 With Destiny ; and ere her scissors cut 
 
 My thread of life, to break this tougher thread 
 
 Of moral death, that ties me to the world. 700
 
 120 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT V. 
 
 Sting thou my slumbering Reason to send forth 
 
 A thought of observation on the foe ; 
 
 To sally, and survey the rapid march 
 
 Of his ten thousand messengers to man ; 
 
 Who, JEHU-like, behind him turns them all. 705 
 
 All accident apart, by Nature sign'd, 
 
 My warrant is gone out, though dormant yet ; 
 
 Perhaps behind one moment lurks my fate. 
 
 MUST I then forward only look for Death ? 
 
 Backward I turn mine eye, and find him there. 710 
 
 Man is a self-survivor every year. 
 
 Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. 
 
 Death 's a destroyer of quotidian prey. 
 
 My youth, my noon-tide, his ; my yesterday ; 
 
 The bold invader shares the present hour. 715 
 
 Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
 
 While man is growing, life is in decrease, 
 
 And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
 
 Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; 
 
 As tapers waste that instant they take fire. 720 
 
 SHALL we then fear lest that should come to pass, 
 
 Which comes to pass each moment of our lives ? 
 
 If fear we must, let that death turn us pale 
 
 Which murders strength and ardour ; what remains 
 
 Should rather call on Death, than dread his call. 725 
 
 Ye partners of my fault and my decline ! 
 
 Thoughtless of death, but when your neighbour's knell 
 
 (Rude visitant !) knocks hard at your dull sense, 
 
 And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear ! 
 
 Be death your theme in every place and hour ; 730 
 
 Nor longer want, ye monumental sires, 
 
 A brother-tomb to tell you, you shall die. 
 
 That death you dread, (so great is Nature's skill !) 
 
 Know, you shall court, before you shall enjoy.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 121 
 
 BUT you are learn'd ; in volumes deep you sit, 735 
 
 In wisdom shallow. Pompous ignorance ! 
 
 Would you be still more learned than the learn'd ? 
 
 Learn well to know how much need not be known, 
 
 And what that knowledge which impairs your sense. 
 
 Our needful knowledge, like our needful food, 740 
 
 Unhedged, lies open in life's common field, 
 
 And bids all welcome to the vital feast. 
 
 You scorn what lies before you in the page 
 
 Of Nature and Experience, moral truth, 
 
 Of indispensable, eternal fruit ; 745 
 
 Fruit on which mortals, feeding, turn to gods, 
 
 And dive in science for distinguish'd names, 
 
 Dishonest fomentation of your pride, 
 
 Sinking in virtue as you rise in fame. 
 
 Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords 750 
 
 Light, but not heat ; it leaves you undevout, 
 
 Frozen at heart, while speculation shines. 
 
 Awake, ye curious indagators, fond 
 
 Of knowing all, but what avails you known. 
 
 If you would learn Death's character, attend. 755 
 
 All casts of conduct, all degrees of health, 
 
 All dies of fortune, and all dates of age, 
 
 Together shook in his impartial urn, 
 
 Come forth at random ; or, if choice is made, 
 
 The choice is quite sarcastic, and insults 760 
 
 All bold conjecture and fond hopes of man. 
 
 What countless multitudes not only leave 
 
 But deeply disappoint us by their deaths ! 
 
 Though great our sorrow, greater our surprise. 
 
 LIKE other tyrants, Death delights to smite 765 
 
 What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of power 
 And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 
 To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 
 The feeble wrap the' athletic in his shroud ;
 
 122 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And weeping fathers build their children's tomb 770 
 
 Me thine, NARCISSA! What, though short thy date? 
 
 Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures. 
 
 That life is long which answers life's great end. 
 
 The time that bears no fruit deserves no name. 
 
 The man of wisdom is the man of years. 775 
 
 In hoary youth METHUSELAHS may die ; 
 
 how misdated on their flattering tombs! 
 
 NARCISSA'S youth has lectured me thus far. 
 
 And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 
 
 That, like the Jews' famed oracle of gems, 780 
 
 Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light, 
 
 And opens more the character of Death, 
 
 111 known to thee, LORENZO ! This thy vaunt : 
 
 " Give death his due, the wretched and the old ; 
 
 E'en let him sweep his rubbish to the grave : 785 
 
 Let him not violate kind Nature's laws, 
 
 But own man born to live, as well as die." 
 
 Wretched and old thou givest him : young and gay 
 
 He takes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 
 
 What if I prove, " The farthest from the fear 790 
 
 Are often nearest to the stroke of Fate ? " 
 
 ALL more than common, menaces an end. 
 
 A blaze betokens brevity of life : 
 
 As if bright embers should emit a flame, 
 
 Glad spirits sparkled from NARCISSA'S eye, 795 
 
 And made youth younger, and taught life to live. 
 
 As Nature's opposites wage endless war, 
 
 For this offence, as treason to the deep 
 
 Inviolable stupor of his reign, 
 
 Where Lust and turbulent Ambition sleep, 800 
 
 Death took swift vengeance. As he life detests, 
 
 More life is still more odious ; and, reduced 
 
 By conquest, aggrandizes more his power.
 
 THE KELAPSE. 123 
 
 But wherefore aggrandized ] By Heaven's decree, 
 
 To plant the soul on her eternal guard, 805 
 
 In awful expectation of our end. 
 
 Thus runs Death's dread commission : " Strike, but so 
 
 As most alarms the living by the dead." 
 
 Hence stratagem delights him, and surprise, 
 
 And cruel sport with man's securities. 810 
 
 Not simple conquest, triumph is his aim ; 
 
 And where least fear'd, there conquest triumphs most. 
 
 This proves my bold assertion not too bold. 
 
 WHAT are his arts to lay our fears asleep ] 
 
 Tiberian arts his purposes wrap up 815 
 
 In deep dissimulation's darkest night. 
 
 Like princes unconfess'd in foreign courts, 
 
 Who travel under cover, Death assumes 
 
 The name and look of Life, and dwells among us ; 
 
 He takes all shapes that serve his black designs ; 820 
 
 Though master of a wider empire far 
 
 Than that o'er which the Eoman eagle flew, 
 
 Like Nero, he 's a fiddler, charioteer : 
 
 Or drives his phaeton in female guise ; 
 
 Quite unsuspected, till, the wheel beneath, 825 
 
 His disarray'd oblation he devours. 
 
 HE most affects the forms least like himself, 
 
 His slender self : hence burly corpulence 
 
 Is his familiar wear, and sleek disguise. 
 
 Behind the rosy bloom he loves to lurk, 830 
 
 Or ambush in a smile ; or, wanton, dive 
 
 In dimples deep : Love's eddies, which draw-in 
 
 Unwary hearts, and sink them in despair. 
 
 Such on NARCISSA'S couch he loiter'd long 
 
 Unknown, and, when detected, still was seen 835 
 
 To smile : such peace has Innocence in death ! 
 
 M 2
 
 124 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 MOST happy they whom least his arts deceive ! 
 
 One eye on Death, and one full fix'd on Heaven, 
 
 Becomes a mortal and immortal man. 
 
 Long on his wiles a piqued and jealous spy, 840 
 
 I 've seen, or dreamt I saw, the tyrant dress, 
 
 Lay by his horrors, and put on his smiles. 
 
 Say, Muse, for thou remember'st, call it back ; 
 
 And show LOKENZO the surprising scene : 
 
 If 't was a dream, his genius can explain. 845 
 
 'T WAS in a circle of the gay I stood : 
 
 Death would have enter'd ; Nature push'd him back ; 
 
 Supported by a Doctor of renown, 
 
 His point he gain'd ; then artfully dismiss'd 
 
 The sage, for Death design'd to be conceal'd. 850 
 
 He gave an old vivacious usurer 
 
 His meagre aspect, and his naked bones ; 
 
 In gratitude for plumping up his prey, 
 
 A pamper'd spendthrift, whose fantastic air, 
 
 Well-fashion'd figure, and cockaded brow, 855 
 
 He took in change, and underneath the pride 
 
 Of costly linen tuck'd his filthy shroud. 
 
 His crooked bow he straighten'd to a cane, 
 
 And hid his deadly shafts in MYBA'S eye. 
 
 THE dreadful masquerader, thus equipp'd, 860 
 
 Out-sallies on adventures. Ask you where 1 
 
 Where is he not ] For his peculiar haunts 
 
 Let this suffice : Sure as night follows day, 
 
 Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world, 
 
 When Pleasure treads the paths which Reason shuns. 865 
 
 When against Reason Riot shuts the door, 
 
 And Gaiety supplies the place of Sense, 
 
 Then foremost, at the banquet and the ball, 
 
 Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die : 
 
 Nor ever fails the midnight bowl to crown. 870
 
 THE RELAPSE. 125 
 
 Gaily carousing to his gay compeers, 
 
 Inly he laughs to see them laugh at him, 
 
 As absent far ; and when the revel burns, 
 
 When Fear is banish'd, and triumphant Thought, 
 
 Calling for all the joys beneath the moon, 875 
 
 Against him turns the key, and bids him sup 
 
 With their progenitors, he drops his mask, 
 
 Frowns out at full ; they start, despair, expire. 
 
 SCARCE with more sudden terror and surprise 
 
 From his black mask of nitre, touch'd by fire, 880 
 
 He bursts, expands, roars, blazes, and devours. 
 
 And is not this triumphant treachery, 
 
 And more than simple conquest, in the fiend 1 
 
 AND now, LORENZO, dost thou wrap thy soul 
 
 In soft security, because unknown 885 
 
 Which moment is commission'd to destroy ] 
 
 In Death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 
 
 Is Death uncertain ? Therefore thou be fix'd, 
 
 Fix'd as a sentinel, all eye, all ear, 
 
 All expectation of the coming foe. 890 
 
 Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear, 
 
 Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul, 
 
 And Fate surprise thee nodding. Watch, be strong : 
 
 Thus give each day the merit and renown 
 
 Of dying well, though doom'd but once to die. 895 
 
 Nor let life's period hidden (as from most) 
 
 Hide, too, from thee the precious use of life. 
 
 EARLY, not sudden, was NARCISSA'S fate : 
 Soon, not surprising, Death his visit paid : 
 Her Thought went forth to meet him on his way, 900 
 
 Nor Gaiety forgot it was to die ; 
 Though Fortune, too, (our third and final theme,) 
 As an accomplice, play'd her gaudy plumes, 
 M 3
 
 126 KIQHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT V. 
 
 And every glittering gewgaw, on her sight, 
 
 To dazzle and debauch it from its mark. 905 
 
 Death's dreadful advent is the mark of man, 
 
 And every thought that misses it is blind. 
 
 Fortune, with Youth and Gaiety, conspired 
 
 To weave a triple wreath of happiness 
 
 (If happiness on earth) to crown her brow. 910 
 
 And could Death charge through such a shining shield ] 
 
 THAT shining shield invites the tyrant's spear, 
 
 As if to damp our elevated aims, 
 
 And strongly preach humility to man. 
 
 how portentous is prosperity ! 915 
 
 How, comet-like, it threatens while it shines ! 
 
 Few years but yield us proof of Death's ambition, 
 
 To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 
 
 And sheathe his shafts in all the pride of life. 
 
 When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er 920 
 
 With recent honours, bloom'd with every bliss, 
 
 Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
 
 The gaudy centre, of the public eye ; 
 
 When Fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
 
 Snatcb'd from the covert of an humble state, 925 
 
 How often have I seen him dropp'd at once, 
 
 Our morning's envy, and our evening's sigh; 
 
 As if her bounties were the signal given, 
 
 The flowery wreath, to mark the sacrifice, 
 
 And call Death's arrows on the destined prey ! 930 
 
 HIGH Fortune seems in cruel league with Fate. 
 
 Ask you for what ? To give his war on man 
 
 The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ; 
 
 Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe. 
 
 And burns LOEENZO still for the sublime 935 
 
 Of Life ] to hang his airy nest on high, 
 
 On the slight timber of the topmost bough,
 
 THE RELAPSE. 127 
 
 Rock'd at each breeze, and menacing a fall ? 
 
 Granting grim Death at equal distance there, 
 
 Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. 940 
 
 What makes man wretched 1 happiness denied 1 
 
 LORENZO ! no : 't is Happiness disdain'd. 
 
 She comes too meanly dress'd to win our smile, 
 
 And calls herself Content, a homely name : 
 
 Our flame is Transport, and Content our scorn. 945 
 
 Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, 
 
 And weds a Toil, a Tempest, in her stead ; 
 
 A Tempest, to warm Transport near of kin. 
 
 Unknowing what our mortal state admits, 
 
 Life's modest joys we ruin while we raise, 950 
 
 And all our ecstasies are wounds to peace ; 
 
 Peace, the full portion of mankind below. 
 
 AND since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! 
 
 Of Fortune fond, as thoughtless of thy fate ! 
 
 As late I drew Death's picture, to stir up 95.'i 
 
 Thy wholesome fears ; now, drawn in contrast, see 
 
 Gay Fortune's, thy vain hopes to reprimand. 
 
 See, high in air the sportive goddess hangs, 
 
 Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware, 
 
 And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad 900 
 
 Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. 
 
 All rush rapacious, friends o'er trodden friends, 
 
 Sons o'er their fathers, subjects o'er their kings, 
 
 Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair, 
 
 (Still more adored,) to snatch the golden shower. 965 
 
 GOLD glitters most where Virtue shines no more, 
 
 As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. 
 
 what a precious pack of votaries, 
 
 Unkennell'd from the prisons and the stews, 
 
 Pour in, all opening in their Idol's praise ! 970 
 
 All, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand,
 
 128 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT T. 
 
 And, wide-expanding their voracious jaws, 
 
 Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, 
 
 Untastcd, through mad appetite for more ; 
 
 Gorged to the throat, yet lean and ravenous still ; 975 
 
 Sagacious all to trace the smallest game, 
 
 And bold to seize the greatest. If (blest chance !) 
 
 Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, they fly 
 
 O'er just, o'er sacred, all forbidden ground, 
 
 Drunk with the burning scent of place or power, 980 
 
 Staunch to the foot of Lucre, till they die. 
 
 On, if for men you take them, as I mark 
 
 Their manners, thou their various fates survey. 
 
 With aim mismeasured and impetuous speed, 
 
 Some, darting, strike their ardent wish far off, 985 
 
 Through fury to possess it : some succeed, 
 
 But stumble, and let fall the taken prize. 
 
 From some, by sudden blasts, 't is whirl'd away, 
 
 And lodged in bosoms that ne'er dream'd of gain. 
 
 To some it sticks so close, that, when torn off, 990 
 
 Torn is the man, and mortal is the wound. 
 
 Some, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad, 
 
 Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread. 
 
 Together some (unhappy rivals !) seize, 
 
 And rend abundance into poverty. 995 
 
 Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles : 
 
 Smiles too the goddess ; but smiles most at those 
 
 (Just victims of exorbitant desire !) 
 
 Who perish at their own request, and, whelm'd 
 
 Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire. 1000 
 
 Fortune is famous for her numbers slain : 
 
 The number small which happiness can bear. 
 
 Though various for a while their fates, at last 
 
 One curse involves them all : at Death's approach, 
 
 All read their riches backward into loss, 1005 
 
 And mourn in just proportion to their store.
 
 THE RELAPSE. 129 
 
 AND Death's approach (if orthodox my song) 
 
 Is hasten'd by the lure of Fortune's smiles. 
 
 And art thou still a glutton of bright gold 1 
 
 And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin 1 ? 1010 
 
 Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 
 
 A blow which, while it executes, alarms, 
 
 And startles thousands with a single fall. 
 
 As when some stately growth of oak, or pine, 
 
 Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade, 1015 
 
 The sun's defiance and the flock's defence, 
 
 By the strong strokes of labouring hinds subdued, 
 
 Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
 
 In cumbrous ruin thunders to the ground ; 
 
 The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 1020 
 
 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound. 
 
 THESE high-aim 'd darts of Death, and these alone, 
 
 Should I collect, my quiver would be full ; 
 
 A quiver which, suspended in mid air, 
 
 Or near Heaven's Archer, in the zodiac, hung, 1025 
 
 (So could it be,) should draw the public eye, 
 
 The gaze and contemplation of mankind ; 
 
 A constellation awful, yet benign, 
 
 To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave ; 
 
 Nor suffer them to strike the common rock, 1030 
 
 " From greater danger to grow more secure, 
 
 And, wrapp'd in happiness, forget their fate." 
 
 LTSANDER, happy past the common lot, 
 
 Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. 
 
 He woo'd the fair ASPASIA ; she was kind : 1035 
 
 In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bless'd ; 
 
 All who knew envied, yet in envy loved : 
 
 Can Fancy form more finish'd happiness 
 
 Fix'd was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome 
 
 Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires 1040
 
 130 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Float in the wave, and break against the shore : 
 
 So break those glittering shadows, human joys ! 
 
 The faithless morning smiled ; he takes his leave, 
 
 To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve. 
 
 The rising storm forbids. The news arrives ; 1045 
 
 Untold she saw it in her servant's eye. 
 
 She felt it seen ; (her heart was apt to feel ;) 
 
 And, drown'd without the furious ocean's aid, 
 
 In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb. 
 
 Now round the sumptuous bridal monument 1050 
 
 The guilty billows innocently roar ; 
 
 And the rough sailor, passing, drops a tear. 
 
 A tear! can tears suffice ] but not for me. 
 
 How vain our efforts ! and our arts how vain ! 
 
 The distant train of thought I took, to shun, 1055 
 
 Has thrown me on, my fate. These died together ; 
 
 Happy in ruin ! undivorced by death ! 
 
 Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace. 
 
 NARCISSA ! Pity bleeds at thought of thee ; 
 
 Yet thou wast only near me ; not myself. 1060 
 
 Survive 'myself? That cures all other woe. 
 
 NARCISSA lives ; PHILANDER is forgot. 
 
 the soft commerce ! the tender ties, 
 
 Close twisted with the fibres of the heart ! 
 
 Which, broken, break them, and drain off the soul 1065 
 
 Of human joy, and make it pain to live. 
 
 And is it then to live ] When such friends part, 
 
 'T is the survivor dies. My heart ! no more.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VI. 
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 
 CONTAINING THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE OF IMMORTALITY. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 WHERE, AMONG OTHER THINGS, GLORY AND RICHES ARK 
 PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. 
 
 HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY PEL- 
 HAM. FIRST LORD-COMMISSIONKR 0? TH? TREASURY, AND 
 CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 FKW ages have been deeper in dispute about religion 
 than this. The dispute about religion, and the practice 
 of it, seldom go together. The shorter, therefore, the dis- 
 pute, the better. I think it may be reduced to this single 
 question, " Is man immortal, or is he not 1 " If he is not, 
 all our disputes are mere amusements, or trials of skill. In 
 this case, truth, reason, religion, which give our discourses 
 such pomp and solemnity, are (as will be shown) mere 
 empty sounds, without any meaning in them. But if man 
 is immortal, it will behove him to be very serious about 
 eternal consequences ; or, in other words, to be truly reli- 
 gious. And this great fundamental truth unestablished, 
 or unawakened, in the minds of men, is, I conceive, the 
 real source and support of all our infidelity ; how remote 
 soever the particular objections advanced may seem to be 
 from it. 
 
 Sensible appearances affect most men much more than 
 abstract reasonings ; and we daily see bodies drop around 
 us, but the soul is invisible. The power which inclination 
 has over the judgment, is greater than can be well con- 
 ceived by those that have not had an experience of it ; and 
 of what numbers is it the sad interest, that souls should not 
 survive! The Heathen world confessed that they rather 
 hoped than firmly believed immortality : and how many 
 Heathens have we still amongst us ! The sacred page assures 
 us, that life and immortality is brought to light by the 
 gospel : but by how many is the gospel rejected or over- 
 looked ! From these considerations, and from my being,
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 accidentally, privy to the sentiments of some particular 
 persons, I have been long persuaded, that most, if not all, 
 our infidels (whatever name they take, and whatever 
 scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep themselves in 
 countenance, they patronize) are supported in their deplor- 
 able error by some doubt of their immortality at the bot- 
 tom. And I am satisfied that men, once thoroughly con- 
 vinced of their immortality, are not far from being Chris- 
 tians. For it is hard to conceive that a man fully conscious 
 eternal pain or happiness will certainly be his lot, should 
 not earnestly and impartially inquire after the surest means 
 of escaping one and securing the other. And of such an 
 earnest and impartial inquiry I well know the consequence. 
 Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental truth, 
 some plain arguments are offered ; arguments derived from 
 principles which infidels admit in common with believers ; 
 arguments which appear to me altogether irresistible ; and 
 such as, I am satisfied, will have great weight with all who 
 give themselves the small trouble of looking seriously into 
 their own bosoms, and of observing, with any tolerable 
 degree of attention, what daily passes round about them in 
 the world. If some arguments shall here occur which 
 others have declined, they are submitted, with all defer- 
 ence, to better judgments in this, of all points the most 
 important. For as to the being of a God, that is no longer 
 disputed; but it is undisputed for this reason only, viz., 
 because, where the least pretence to reason is admitted, it 
 must for ever be indisputable. And, of consequence, no 
 man can be betrayed into a dispute of that nature by 
 vanity, which has a principal share in animating our 
 modern combatants against other articles of our belief.
 
 135 
 NIGHT VI. 
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 PART I. 
 
 WHKIIE, AMONG OTHER THINGS, GLORY AND RICHKS ARK 
 PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. 
 
 SHE * (for I know not yet her name in heaven) 
 
 Not early, like NARCISSA, left the scene ; 
 
 Nor sudden, like PHILANDEK. What avail? 
 
 This seeming mitigation but inflames ; 
 
 This fancied medicine heightens the disease. 5 
 
 The longer known, the closer still she grew ; 
 
 And gradual parting is a gradual death. 
 
 "I is the grim tyrant's engine, which extorts 
 
 By tardy pressure's still-increasing weight, 
 
 From hardest hearts, confession of distress. 10 
 
 THE long, dark approach through years of pain, 
 
 Death's gallery, (might I dare to call it so,) 
 
 With dismal doubt and sable terror hung ; 
 
 Sick Hope's pale lamp its only glimmering ray ! 
 
 There Fate my melancholy walk ordain'd, 15 
 
 Forbid Self-love itself to flatter there. 
 
 How oft I gazed, prophetically sad ! 
 
 How oft I saw her dead, while yet in smiles ! 
 
 In smiles she sunk her grief, to lessen mine. 
 
 She spoke me comfort, and increased my pain. 20 
 
 Like powerful armies trenching at a town, 
 
 By slow and silent, but resistless, sap, 
 
 * Referring to Night the Fifth. 
 
 N 2
 
 136 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 In his pale progress gently gaining ground, 
 
 Death urged his deadly siege ; in spite of Art, 
 
 Of all the balmy blessings Nature lends 25 
 
 To succour frail humanity. Ye stars, 
 
 (Not now first made familiar to my sight,) 
 
 And thou, Moon, bear witness ! many a night 
 
 He tore the pillow from beneath my head, 
 
 Tied down my sore attention to the shock, 30 
 
 By ceaseless depredations on a life 
 
 Dearer than that he left me. Dreadful post 
 
 Of observation, darker every hour ! 
 
 Less dread the day that drove me to the brink, 
 
 And pointed at Eternity below ; 35 
 
 When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; 
 
 When, on a moment's point, the' important die 
 
 Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell, 
 
 And turn'd up life ; my title to more woe.* 
 
 * In the Preface to the Fourth Night the author reminds his readers, 
 (p. 69,) that in the First Night "three deaths are mentioned;" that 
 " two only of those three have yet heen sung ; " and that " it is uncer- 
 tain whether Providence or inclination will permit him to go any far- 
 ther." His " inclination" exhibited some reluctance even to allude, in 
 the Fourth Night, to the slow and lingering decease of his excellent 
 wife, Lady Elizabeth Young. Near the commencement of the Fifth 
 Night, however, a slight reference is made to her Ladyship's brother, 
 the Earl of Lichfield. He is classed among " the wise," whose " assent 
 to the truths " which the poet sung 
 
 " Is ample recompence, is more than praise." 
 
 " But chiefly thine, O LICHFIELD, nor mistake: 
 Think not unintroduced I force my way ; 
 NAHCISSA, not unknown, not unallied, 
 By virtue or by blood, illustrious youth, 
 To thee." 
 
 But, at the close of the same Night, in a few brief and abrupt sentences, 
 he pathetically laments, that " the distant train of thought which he 
 bad taken to shun his fate," (the mention of her death,) had only served
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 137 
 
 BUT why more woe 1 More comfort let it be. 40 
 
 Nothing is dead but that which wish'd to die ; 
 
 Nothing is dead but wretchedness and pain ; 
 
 Nothing is dead but what encumber'd, gall'd, 
 
 Block'd up the pass, and barr'd from real life. 
 
 Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise 1 45 
 
 Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars 
 
 Too low to reach it ; Death, great Death alone, 
 
 O'er stars and sun triumphant, lands us there. 
 
 NOR dreadful our transition ; though the mind, 
 
 An artist at creating self-alarms, 50 
 
 Rich in expedients for inquietude, 
 
 Is prone to paint it dreadful. Who can take 
 
 Death's portrait true 1 The tyrant never sat. 
 
 Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all ; 
 
 Close shuts the Grave, nor tells one single tale. 55 
 
 Death, and his image rising in the brain, 
 
 to drive him the more rapidly upon it ; and then adds, as a corollary to 
 the affecting fate of Lysander and Aspasia, 
 
 " Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace. 
 NARCISSA ! Pity bleeds at thought of tliee. 
 Yet thou wast only near me, not myself." 
 
 Tinder the pressure of this his greatest woe, the loss of his better self, all 
 the rest sink into insignificance : Narcissa seems to be still alive, and 
 Philander quite forgotten. 
 
 But in the opening verses of this Sixth Night, his full heart found due 
 utterance ; and his language exhibits stronger traces of the affectionate 
 husband than of the accomplished poet: it is natural, pathetic, and 
 unaffected, indicative of the sincerest attachment and of the most pro- 
 found grief. He invokes none of the goddesses, and bestows on her no 
 fictitious title, as he had previously done on her two children, Narcissa 
 and Philander. The description of his own illness in consequence of this 
 severe shock, and of his restoration to health, a "title for more woe ; " 
 and the gradual transition from these saddening subjects to the grand 
 illustration of his favourite doctrine of the soul's immortality ; are all 
 conceived in the best taste, and expressed in graceful and elegant lan- 
 guage. EDIT. 
 
 N 3
 
 138 NIGHT THOUGHTS. KIOHT VI. 
 
 Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike : 
 
 Fear shakes the pencil ; Fancy loves excess ; 
 
 Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades : 
 
 And these the formidable picture draw. 60 
 
 B0r grant the worst ; 't is past ; new prospects rise, 
 
 And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. 
 
 Far other views our contemplation claim ; 
 
 Views that o'erpay the rigours of our life, 
 
 Views that suspend our agonies in death. 65 
 
 Wrapt in the thought of immortality, 
 
 Wrapt in the single, the triumphant thought, 
 
 Long life might lapse, age unperceived come on, 
 
 And find the soul unsated with her theme. 
 
 Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song. 70 
 
 that my song could emulate my soul ! 
 
 Like her, immortal. No ! the soul disdains 
 
 A mark so mean ; "far nobler hope inflames ; 
 
 If endless ages can outweigh an hour, 
 
 Let not the laurel, but the palm, inspire. 75 
 
 THY nature, Immortality, who knows 1 
 
 And yet who knows it not 1 It is but life 
 
 In stronger thread of brighter colour spun, 
 
 And spun for ever ; dipp'd by cruel Fate 
 
 In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here ! 80 
 
 How short our correspondence with the sun, 
 
 And, while it lasts, inglorious ! Our best deeds, 
 
 How wanting in their weight ! Our highest joys, 
 
 Small cordials to support us in our pain, 
 
 And give us strength to suffer. But how great 85 
 
 To mingle interests, converse, amities, 
 
 With all the sons of Reason, scatter'd wide 
 
 Through habitable space, wherever born, 
 
 Howe'er endow'd ; to live free citizens 
 
 Of universal nature ; to lay hold, 90
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 139 
 
 By more than feeble faith, on the Supreme ! 
 
 To call Heaven's rich unfathomable mines 
 
 (Mines which support archangels in their state) 
 
 Our own ! to rise in science as in bliss, 
 
 Initiate in the secrets of the skies ! 95 
 
 To read Creation, read its mighty plan 
 
 In the bare bosom of the Deity ! 
 
 The plan and execution to collate ! 
 
 To see, before each glance of piercing thought, 
 
 All cloud, all shadow, blown remote, and leave 100 
 
 No mystery but that of love Divine, 
 
 Which lifts us on the seraph's flaming wing, 
 
 From earth's Aceldama, this field of blood, 
 
 Of inward anguish, and of outward ill, 
 
 From darkness and from dust, to such a scene ; 105 
 
 Love's element, true joy's illustrious home, 
 
 From earth's sad contrast (now deplored) more fair ! 
 
 What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! 
 
 Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! 
 
 LORENZO, these are thoughts that make man MAN, 110 
 
 The wise illumine, aggrandize the great. 
 
 How great, (while yet we tread the kindred clod, 
 
 And every moment fear to sink beneath 
 
 The clod we tread, soon trodden by our sons,) 
 
 How great, in the wild whirl of Time's pursuits, 115 
 
 To stop, and pause ; involved in high presage, 
 
 Through the long vista of a thousand years, 
 
 To stand contemplating our distant selves, 
 
 As in a magnifying mirror seen, 
 
 Enlarged, ennobled, elevate, Divine! 120 
 
 To prophesy our own futurities, 
 
 To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends ! 
 
 To talk, with fellow-candidates, of joys 
 
 As far beyond conception as desert, 
 
 Ourselves the' astonish'd talkers, and the tale ! 125
 
 140 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VI. 
 
 LORENZO, swells thy bosom at the thought ? 
 
 The swell becomes thee ; 't is an honest pride. 
 
 Severe thyself, and yet thyself despise. 
 
 His nature no man can o'er-rate, and none 
 
 Can under-rate his merit. Take good heed, 130 
 
 Nor there be modest where thou shouldst be proud ; 
 
 That almost universal error shun. 
 
 How just our pride, when we behold those heights ! 
 
 Not those Ambition paints in air, but those 
 
 Eeason points out, and ardent Virtue gains, 135 
 
 And angels emulate. Our pride, how just! 
 
 When mount we 1 when these shackles cast 1 when quit 
 
 This cell of the creation 1 this small nest, 
 
 Stuck in a corner of the universe, 
 
 Wrapp'd up in fleecy cloud and fine-spun air? 140 
 
 Fine-spun to sense, but gross and feculent 
 
 To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe 
 
 Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky ; 
 
 Greatly triumphant on Time's farther shore, 
 
 "Where Virtue reigns, enrich'd with full arrears, 145 
 
 While Pomp imperial begs an alms of Peace. 
 
 IN empire high, or in proud science deep, 
 
 Ye born of earth, on what can you confer, 
 
 With half the dignity, with half the gain, 
 
 The gust, the glow of rational delight, 150 
 
 As on this theme, which angels praise and share 1 
 
 Man's fates and favours are a theme in heaven. 
 
 WHAT wretched repetition cloys us here ! 
 
 What periodic potions for the sick, 
 
 Distemper'd bodies, and distemper'd minds 1 155 
 
 In an eternity what scenes shall strike, 
 
 Adventures thicken, novelties surprise ! 
 
 What webs of wonder shall unravel there ! 
 
 What full day pour on all the paths of Heaven,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 141 
 
 And light the' Almighty's footsteps in the deep ! 160 
 
 How shall the blessed day of our discharge 
 Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of Fate, 
 And straighten its inextricable maze ! 
 
 IF inextinguishable thirst in man 
 
 To know, how rich, how full, our banquet there! 165 
 
 There, not the moral world alone unfolds ; 
 
 The world material, lately seen in shades, 
 
 And in those shades by fragments only seen, 
 
 And seen those fragments by the labouring eye, 
 
 Unbroken, then, illustrious and entire, 170 
 
 Its ample sphere, its universal frame, 
 
 In full dimensions, swells to the survey, 
 
 And enters, at one glance, the ravish'd sight. 
 
 From some superior point, (where, who can tell? 
 
 Suffice it, 't is a point where gods reside,) 175 
 
 How shall the stranger man's illumined eye, 
 
 In the vast ocean of unbounded space, 
 
 Behold an infinite of floating worlds 
 
 Divide the crystal waves of ether pure, 
 
 In endless voyage, without port ! The least 180 
 
 Of these disseminated orbs, how great ! 
 
 Great as they are, what numbers these surpass, 
 
 Huge as Leviathan to that small race, 
 
 Those twinkling multitudes of little life, 
 
 He swallows unperceived ! Stupendous these ! 185 
 
 Yet what are these stupendous to the whole ] 
 
 As particles, as atoms ill-perceived ; 
 
 As circulating globules in our veins ; 
 
 So vast the plan. Fecundity Divine ! 
 
 Exuberant Source ! perhaps I wrong thee still. 190 
 
 IF admiration is a source of joy, 
 
 What transport hence ! yet this the least in heaven. 
 
 What this to that illustrious robe He wears
 
 142 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Who toss'd this mass of wonders from His hand, 
 
 A specimen, an earnest of His power? 195 
 
 'T is to that glory, whence all glory flows, 
 
 As the mead's meanest floweret to the sun 
 
 Which gave it birth. But what this Sun of heaven 1 
 
 This bliss supreme of the supremely bless'd ] 
 
 Death, only Death, the question can resolve. 200 
 
 By Death, cheap-bought the' ideas of our joy ; 
 
 The bare ideas ! solid happiness 
 
 So distant from its shadow chased below. 
 
 AND chase we still the phantom through the fire, 
 
 O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death 1 205 
 
 And toil we still for sublunary pay, 
 
 Defy the dangers of the field and flood ] 
 
 Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all, 
 
 Our more than vitals spin (if no regard 
 
 To great futurity) in curious webs 21 
 
 Of subtle thought, and exquisite design, 
 
 (Fine net-work of the brain !) to catch a fly, 
 
 The momentary buzz of vain renown, 
 
 A name, a mortal immortality ] 
 
 OR, (meaner still,) instead of grasping air, 215 
 
 For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire 1 
 
 Drudge, sweat, through every shame, for every gain, 
 
 For vile contaminating trash ; throw up 
 
 Our hope in heaven, our dignity with man, 
 
 And deify the dirt, matured to gold 1 220 
 
 Ambition, Avarice ! the two demons these, 
 
 Which goad through every slough our human herd, 
 
 Hard travell'd from the cradle to the grave. 
 
 How low the wretches stoop ! how steep they climb ! 
 
 These demons burn mankind ; but most possess 225 
 
 LORENZO'S bosom, and turn out the skies.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 143 
 
 Is it in Time to hide Eternity 1 
 
 And why not in an atom on the shore 
 
 To cover ocean 1 or a mote, the sun ? 
 
 Glory and wealth ! have they this blinding power ? 230 
 
 What, if to them I prove LORENZO blind 1 
 
 Would it surprise thee ] Be thou then surprised : 
 
 Thou neither know'st : their nature learn from me. 
 
 MARK well, as foreign as these subjects seem, 
 
 What close connexion ties them to my theme. 235 
 
 First, what is true ambition ? The pursuit 
 
 Of glory, nothing less than man can share. 
 
 Were they as vain as gaudy-minded man, 
 
 As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, 
 
 Their arts and conquests animals might boast, 240 
 
 And claim their laurel crowns as well as we ; 
 
 But not celestial. Here we stand alone ; 
 
 As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent : 
 
 If prone in thought, our stature is our shame, 
 
 And man should blush his forehead meets the skies. 245 
 
 The Visible and Present are for brutes, 
 
 A slender portion, and a narrow bound ! 
 
 These Eeason, with an energy Divine, 
 
 O'erleaps, and claims the Future and Unseen ; 
 
 The vast Unseen, the Future fathomless ! 250 
 
 When the great soul buoys up to this high point, 
 
 Leaving gross Nature's sediments below, 
 
 Then, and then only, Adam's offspring quits 
 
 The sage and hero of the fields and woods, 
 
 Asserts his rank, and rises into man. 255 
 
 This is ambition : this is human fire. 
 
 CAN Parts or Place (two bold pretenders !) make 
 LORENZO great, and pluck him from the throng ? 
 
 GENIUS and Art, Ambition's boasted wings, 
 
 Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid ! 260
 
 144 NIOHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Daedalian engin'ry ! if these alone 
 
 Assist our flight, Fame's flight is Glory's fall. 
 
 Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 
 
 Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 
 
 A celebrated wretch when I behold, 265 
 
 When I behold a genius bright and base, 
 
 Of towering talents, and terrestrial aims ; 
 
 Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
 
 The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
 
 With rubbish mix'd, and glittering in the dust. 27C 
 
 Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight, 
 
 At once compassion soft, and envy, rise 
 
 But wherefore envy ] Talents angel-bright, 
 
 If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
 
 In false Ambition's hand, to finish faults 27f 
 
 Illustrious, and give Infamy renown. 
 
 GREAT ill is an achievement of great powers : 
 
 Plain Sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
 
 Keason the means, Affections choose our end ; 
 
 Means have no merit, if our end amiss. 280 
 
 If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain ; 
 
 What is a PELHAM'S head to PELHAM'S heart ? 
 
 Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 
 
 Eight ends and means make wisdom ; worldly-wise 
 
 Is but half-witted, at its highest praise. 285 
 
 LET Genius then despair to make thee great ; 
 
 Nor flatter Station. What is Station high ? 
 
 T is a proud mendicant ; it boaste, and begs ; 
 
 It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 
 
 And oft the throng denies its charity. 290 
 
 Monarchs and ministers are awful names ; 
 
 Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 
 
 Religion, public order, both exact 
 
 External homage, and a supple knee,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 145 
 
 To beings pompously set up, to serve 295 
 
 The meanest slave : all more is Merit's due, 
 
 Her sacred and inviolable right ; 
 
 Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 
 
 Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth, 
 
 Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 300 
 
 Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, 
 
 And vote the mantle into majesty. 
 
 Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
 
 His royal robe unborrow'd and unbought, 
 
 His own, descending fairly from his sires, 305 
 
 Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 
 
 And souls in ermine scorn a soul without 1 
 
 Can place or lessen us or aggrandize 1 
 
 Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Alps ; 
 
 And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 310 
 
 Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: 
 
 Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids ; 
 
 Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 
 
 OP these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? 
 
 The cause is lodged in immortality. 315 
 
 Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power ; 
 
 What station charms thee ? I '11 install thee there ; 
 
 'T is thine. And art thou greater than before '( 
 
 Then thou before wast something less than man. 
 
 Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride 1 320 
 
 That treacherous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
 
 That pride defames humanity, and calls 
 
 The being mean which staffs or strings can raise. 
 
 That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars, 
 
 From blindness bold, and towering to the skies. 325 
 
 J T is born of Ignorance, which knows not man 
 
 An angel's second ; nor his second long. 
 
 A NERO, quitting his imperial throne, 
 
 And courting glory from the tinkling string,
 
 146 SIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 But faintly shadows an immortal soul, 330 
 
 With empire's self, to pride or rapture fired. 
 If nobler motives minister no cure, 
 E'en Vanity forbids thee to be vain. 
 
 HIGIH worth is elevated place : 't is more ; 
 
 It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 335 
 
 Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man ; 
 
 Though no exchequer it commands, 't is wealth ; 
 
 And though it wears no riband, 't is renown ; 
 
 Kenown, that would not quit thee, though disgraced, 
 
 Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 340 
 
 Other ambition Nature interdicts ; 
 
 Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
 
 By pointing at his origin and end ; 
 
 Milk and a swathe, at first, his whole demand ; 
 
 His whole domain, at last, a turf or stone ; 345 
 
 To whom, between, a world may seem too small. 
 
 SOULS truly great dart forward, on the wing 
 
 Of just Ambition, to the grand result, 
 
 The curtain's fall ; there see the buskin'd chief 
 
 Unshod behind this momentary scene, 350 
 
 Reduced to his own stature, low or high, 
 
 As vice, or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes ; 
 
 And laugh at this fantastic mummery, 
 
 This antic prelude of grotesque events, 
 
 Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray 355 
 
 A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run, 
 
 And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice 
 
 To Christian pride ! which had with horror shock'd 
 
 The darkest Pagans, offer'd to their gods. 
 
 THOU most Christian* enemy to peace ! 360 
 
 Again in arms 1 again provoking Fate ? 
 
 * The style and title of the King of Prance. EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 147 
 
 That prince, and that alone, is truly great, 
 
 Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheathes ; 
 
 On empire builds what empire tax outweighs, 
 
 And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies. 365 
 
 WHY this so rare ? Because forgot of all 
 
 The day of death ; that venerable day, 
 
 Which sits as judge ; that day which shall pronounce 
 
 On all our days, absolve them or condemn. 
 
 LORENZO, never shut thy thought against it ; 370 
 
 Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room, 
 
 And give it audience in the cabinet. 
 
 That friend consulted (flatteries apart) 
 
 Will tell thee fair if thou art great or mean. 
 
 To dote on aught may leave us, or be left, 375 
 
 Is that ambition ? Then let flames descend, 
 Point to the centre their inverted spires, 
 And learn humiliation from a soul 
 Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire. 
 Yet these are they the world pronounces wise ; 380 
 
 The world which cancels Nature's right and wrong, 
 And casts new wisdom : e'en the grave man lends 
 His solemn face to countenance the coin. 
 Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole. 
 This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave 385 
 
 To call the wisest weak, the richest poor, 
 The most ambitious unambitious, mean ; 
 In triumph mean, and abject on a throne. 
 Nothing can make it less than mad in man, 
 To put forth all his ardour, all his art, 390 
 
 And give his soul her full unbounded flight, 
 But reaching Him who gave her wings to fly. 
 When blind Ambition quite mistakes her road, 
 And downward pores for that which shines above, 
 Substantial happiness, and true renown ; 395 
 
 o 2
 
 148 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VI. 
 
 Then, like an idiot, gazing on the brook, 
 We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 
 At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 
 
 AMBITION ! powerful source of good and ill ! 
 
 Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 400 
 
 When disengaged from earth, with greater ease 
 
 And swifter flight, transports us to the skies : 
 
 By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired, 
 
 It turns a curse ; it is our chain and scourge 
 
 In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 405 
 
 Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
 
 All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
 
 And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 
 
 WITH error in ambition justly charged, 
 
 Find we LORENZO wiser in his wealth ? 410 
 
 What, if thy rental I reform, and draw 
 
 An inventory new to set thee right ] 
 
 Where thy true treasure] Gold says, "Not in me;" 
 
 And, " Not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor ; 
 
 India 's insolvent : seek it in thyself; 41 5 
 
 Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; 
 
 In being so descended, fonn'd, endow'd ; 
 
 Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race ! 
 
 Erect, immortal, rational, Divine ! 
 
 In senses, which inherit earth and heavens ; 420 
 
 Enjoy the various riches Nature yields ; 
 
 Far nobler! give the riches they enjoy; 
 
 Give taste to fniits, and harmony to groves, 
 
 Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright sire ; 
 
 Take-in, at once, the landscape of the world, 425 
 
 At a small inlet, which a grain might close, 
 
 And half-create the wondrous world they see. 
 
 Our senses, as our reason, are Divine. 
 
 But for the magic organ's powerful charm,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 149 
 
 Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos still. 430 
 
 Objects are but the' occasion : ours the' exploit ; 
 
 Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint, 
 
 Which Nature's admirable picture draws, 
 
 And beautifies Creation's ample dome. 
 
 Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake, 435 
 
 Man makes the matchless image man admires. 
 
 Say then, shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad, 
 
 (Superior wonders in himself forgot,) 
 
 His admiration waste on objects round, 
 
 When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees ? 440 
 
 Absurd, not rare ! so great, so mean, is man ! 
 
 WHAT wealth in senses such as these ! What wealth 
 
 In Fancy fired to form a fairer scene 
 
 Than Sense surveys ! in Memory's firm record ! 
 
 Which, should it perish, could this world recall 445 
 
 From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years, 
 
 In colours fresh, originally bright, 
 
 Preserve its portrait, and report its fate ! 
 
 What wealth in Intellect, that sovereign power, 
 
 Which Sense and Fancy summons to the bar ; 450 
 
 Interrogates, approves, or reprehends ; 
 
 And from the mass those underlings import, 
 
 From their materials sifted, and refined, 
 
 And in Truth's balance accurately weigh'd, 
 
 Forms art and science, government and law ; 455 
 
 The solid basis and the beauteous frame, 
 
 The vitals and the grace, of civil life ; 
 
 And, manners (sad exception !) set aside, 
 
 Strikes out, with master-hand, a copy fair 
 
 Of His idea, whose indulgent thought, 480 
 
 Long, long ere Chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss ! 
 
 WHAT wealth in souls that soar, dive, range around, 
 Disdaining limit or from place or time : 
 o 3
 
 150 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear 
 
 The' Almighty fiat, and the trumpet's sound ! 4t>5 
 
 Bold on Creation's outside walk, and view 
 
 What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; 
 
 Commanding, with omnipotence of thought, 
 
 Creations new in Fancy's field to rise ! 
 
 Souls, that can grasp whate'er the' Almighty made, 470 
 
 And wander wild through things impossible ! 
 
 What wealth in faculties of endless growth, 
 
 In quenchless passions violent to crave, 
 
 In liberty to choose, in power to reach, 
 
 And in duration, (how thy riches rise !) 475 
 
 Duration to perpetuate boundless bliss I 
 
 ASK you, what power resides in feeble man 
 
 That bliss to gain 1 Is Virtue's, then, unknown ! 
 
 Virtue, our present peace, our future prize ! 
 
 Man's unprecarious, natural estate, 480 
 
 Improvable at will, in Virtue lies ; 
 
 Its tenuve sure ; its income is Divine. 
 
 HIGH-BUILT abundance, heap on heap ! for what 1 ? 
 
 To breed new wants, and beggar us the more ! 
 
 Then, make a richer scramble for the throng. 485 
 
 Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long 
 
 Almost by miracle, is tired with play, 
 
 Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown, 
 
 Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly ; 
 
 Fly diverse; fly to foreigners, to foes; 490 
 
 New masters court, and call the former fool 
 
 (How justly !) for dependence on their stay. 
 
 Wide scatter, first, our playthings ; then our dust. 
 
 DOST court abundance for the sake of peace ? 
 
 Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : 495 
 
 Biches enable to be richer still ;
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 151 
 
 And richer still what mortal can resist? 
 
 Thus Wealth (a cruel task-master) enjoins 
 
 New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train ! 
 
 And murders Peace, which taught it first to shine. 600 
 
 The poor are half as wretched as the rich, 
 
 Whose proud and painful privilege it is 
 
 At once to bear a double load of woe ; 
 
 To feel the stings of Envy and of Want, 
 
 Outrageous Want, both Indies cannot cure. 505 
 
 A COMPETENCE is vital to content. 
 
 Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease : 
 
 Sick, or encumber'd, is our happiness. 
 
 A competence is all we can enjoy. 
 
 be content where Heaven can give no more ! 510 
 
 More, like a flash of water from a lock, 
 
 Quickens our spirit's movement for an hour ; 
 
 But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys 
 
 Above our native temper's common stream. 
 
 Hence Disappointment lurks in every prize, 515 
 
 As bees in flowers, and stings us with success. 
 
 THE rich man who denies it, proudly feigns, 
 
 Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie. 
 
 Much learning shows how little mortals know ; 
 
 Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy : 520 
 
 At best it babies us with endless toys, 
 
 And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
 
 As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed, 
 
 They fail to find what they so plainly see : 
 
 Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 525 
 
 Of Happiness, nor know it is a shade ; 
 
 But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, 
 
 And wish, and wonder it is absent still. 
 
 How few can rescue opulence from want ! 
 
 Who lives to Nature rarely can be poor ; 630
 
 152 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VI. 
 
 Who lives to Fancy never can be rich. 
 
 Poor is the man in debt ; the man of gold, 
 
 In debt to Fortune, trembles at her power : 
 
 The man of Reason smiles at her and Death. 
 
 what a patrimony this ! A being 635 
 
 Of such inherent strength and majesty, 
 
 Not worlds possess'd can raise it ; worlds destroy'd 
 
 Can't injure ; which holds on its glorious course, 
 
 When thine, Nature ! ends ; too bless'd to mourn 
 
 Creation's obsequies. What treasure this ! 540 
 
 The monarch is a beggar to the man. 
 
 IMMORTAL ! Ages past, yet nothing gone ! 
 
 Morn without eve ! a race without a goal, 
 
 Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! 
 
 Futurity for ever future ! Life 546 
 
 Beginning still where computation ends ! 
 
 'T is the description of a Deity ! 
 
 'T is the description of the meanest slave : 
 
 The meanest slave dares, then, LORENZO scorn ] 
 
 The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares. 550 
 
 Proud youth, fastidious of the lower world ! 
 
 Man's lawful pride includes humility ; 
 
 Stoops to the lowest ; is too great to find 
 
 Inferiors : all immortal ! brothers all! 
 
 Proprietors eternal of thy love ! 555 
 
 IMMORTAL ! What can strike the sense so strong, 
 
 As this the soul 1 It thunders to the thought ; 
 
 Reason amazes ; gratitude o'erwhelms. 
 
 No more we slumber on the brink of fate ; 
 
 Roused at the sound, the' exulting soul ascends, - 560 
 
 And breathes her native air ; an air that feeds 
 
 Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires ; 
 
 Quick kindles all that is Divine within us, 
 
 Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 153 
 
 HAS not LORENZO'S bosom caught the flame 1 565 
 
 Immortal ! Were but one immortal, how 
 
 Would others envy ! how would thrones adore ! 
 
 Because 't is common, is the blessing lost ] 
 
 How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven ! 
 
 vain, vain, vain, all else ! Eternity ! 570 
 
 A glorious and a needful refuge, that, 
 
 From vile imprisonment in abject views. 
 
 'T is immortality, 't is that alone, 
 
 Amid Life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
 
 The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. 575 
 
 That only, and that amply, this performs, 
 
 Lifts us above Life's pains, her joys above ; 
 
 Their terror those, and these their lustre, lose : 
 
 Eternity depending covers all ; 
 
 Eternity depending all achieves ; 580 
 
 Sets Earth at distance ; casts her into shades ; 
 
 Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her powers : 
 
 The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, 
 
 Fortune's dread frowns and fascinating smiles, 
 
 Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, 585 
 
 The man beneath ; if I may call him man, 
 
 Whom immortality's full force inspires. 
 
 Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought : 
 
 Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard, 
 
 By minds quite conscious of their high descent, 590 
 
 Their present province, and their future prize ; 
 
 Divinely darting upward every wish, 
 
 Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost ! 
 
 DOUBT you this truth 1 Why labours your belief] 
 
 If Earth's whole orb, by some due-distanced eye, 595 
 
 Were seen at once, her towering Alps would sink, 
 
 And levell'd Atlas leave an even sphere. 
 
 Thus Earth, and all that earthly minds admire, 
 
 Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round.
 
 154 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 To that stupendous view when souls awake, 600 
 
 So large of late, so mountainous to man, 
 Time's toys subside ; and equal all below. 
 
 ENTHUSIASTIC this 1 then all are weak, 
 
 But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height 
 
 Some souls have soar"d, or martyrs ne'er had bled : 605 
 
 And all may do what has by man been done. 
 
 Who, beaten by these sublunary storms, 
 
 Boundless, interminable joys can weigh, 
 
 TJnraptured, unexalted, uninflamed 1 
 
 What slave, unbless'd, who from to-morrow's dawn 610 
 
 Expects an empire 1 He forgets his chain, 
 
 And, throned in thought, his absent sceptre waves. 
 
 AND what a sceptre waits us ! what a throne ! 
 
 Her own immense appointments to compute, 
 
 Or comprehend her high prerogatives, 615 
 
 In this her dark minority, how toils, 
 
 How vainly pants, the human soul Divine ! 
 
 Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy. 
 
 What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss ? 
 
 IN spite of all the truths the Muse has sung,* 620 
 
 Ne'er to be prized enough, enough revolved ! 
 
 Are there who wrap the world so close about them, 
 
 They see no farther than the clouds ; and dance 
 
 On heedless Vanity's fantastic toe, 
 
 Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career, 625 
 
 Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and song 1 
 
 Are there, LOKEHZO ? is it possible 1 
 
 Are there on earth (let me not call them men) 
 
 Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 
 
 * In the quarto impressions this line immediately follows, 
 " Truths touching, marvellous, and full of Heaven." EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 155 
 
 Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 630 
 
 Or rock, of its inestimable gem 1 
 When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these 
 Shall know their treasure ; treasure then no more. 
 
 ARE there (still more amazing !) who resist 
 
 The rising thought 1 who smother, in its birth, 635 
 
 The glorious truth ? who struggle to be brutes 1 
 
 Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way ; 
 
 And, with reversed ambition, strive to sink 1 
 
 Who labour downwards through the' opposing powers 
 
 Of Instinct, Keason, and the World against them, 640 
 
 To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
 
 Of endless night, night darker than the grave's s 
 
 Who fight the proofs of immortality 1 
 
 With horrid zeal and execrable arts, 
 
 Work all their engines, level their black fires, 645 
 
 To blot from man this attribute Divine, 
 
 (Than vital blood far dearer to the wise,) 
 
 Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ! 
 
 To contradict them, see all Nature rise ! 
 
 What object, what event, the moon beneath, 650 
 
 But argues, or endears, an after-scene ? 
 
 To Reason proves, or weds it to Desire 1 
 
 All things proclaim it needful ; some advance 
 
 One precious step beyond, and prove it sure. 
 
 A thousand arguments swarm round my pen, 655 
 
 From Heaven, and Earth, and Man. Indulge a few, 
 
 By nature, as her common habit, worn ; 
 
 So pressing Providence a truth to teach, 
 
 Which truth untaught, all other truths were vain. 
 
 THOU ! whose all-providential eye surveys, 660 
 
 Whose hand directs, whose Spirit fills and warms 
 Creation, and holds empire far beyond 1
 
 156 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Eternity's Inhabitant august ; 
 
 Of two eternities amazing Lord t 
 
 One past, ere man's or angel's bad begun : 665 
 
 Aid ! while I rescue from the foe's assault 
 
 Thy glorious immortality in man : 
 
 A theme for ever, and for all, of weight, 
 
 Of moment infinite ! but relish'd most 
 
 By those who love Thee most, who most adore. 670 
 
 NATURE, Thy daughter, ever-changing birth 
 
 Of Thee the great Immutable, to man 
 
 Speaks wisdom ; is his oracle supremo ; 
 
 And he who most consults her is most wise. 
 
 LORENZO, to this heavenly Delphos haste ; 675 
 
 And come back all-immortal, all-Divine : 
 
 Look Nature through, 't is revolution all ; 
 
 All change, no death. Day follows night ; and night, 
 
 The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
 
 Earth takes the' example. See, the Summer gay, 680 
 
 With her green chaplet and ambrosial flowers, 
 
 Droops into pallid Autumn : Winter grey, 
 
 Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
 
 Blows Autumn and his golden fruits away ; 
 
 Then melts into the Spring : soft Spring, with breath 685 
 
 Favonian, from warm chambers of the south 
 
 Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades ; 
 
 As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend : 
 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 
 
 WITH this minute distinction, emblems just, 690 
 
 Nature revolves, but man advances : both 
 
 Eternal ; that a circle, this a line ; 
 
 That gravitates, this soars. The' aspiring Soul, 
 
 Ardent and tremulous, like flame, ascends ; 
 
 Zeal and Humility her wings to heaven. 695 
 
 The world of matter, with its various forms,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 157 
 
 All dies into new life. Life, born from Death, 
 
 Rolls the vast mass, and shall for ever roll. 
 
 No single atom, once in being, lost, 
 
 With change of counsel charges the Most High. 700 
 
 WHAT hence infers LORENZO 1 Can it be ? 
 
 Matter immortal ] And shall spirit die 1 
 
 Above the nobler, shall less noble rise ? 
 
 Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, 
 
 No resurrection know 1 Shall man alone, 705 
 
 Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground, 
 
 Less privileged than grain on which he feeds ] 
 
 Is man, in whom alone is power to prize 
 
 The bliss of being, or with previous pain 
 
 Deplore its period, by the spleen of Fate, 710 
 
 Severely doom'd Death's single unredeem'd ? 
 
 IF Nature's revolution speaks aloud, 
 In her gradation hear her louder still. 
 Look Nature through ; 't is neat gradation all. 
 By what minute degrees her scale ascends ! 715 
 
 Each middle nature join'd at each extreme, 
 To that above it join'd, to that beneath. 
 Parts into parts reciprocally shot 
 Abhor divorce. What love of union reigns ! 
 Here, dormant matter waits a call to life ; 720 
 
 Half-life, half-death, join there : here, life and sense ; 
 There, sense from reason steals a glimmering ray ; 
 Reason shines out in man. But how preserved 
 The chain unbroken upward, to the realms 
 Of incorporeal life ] those realms of bliss 725 
 
 Where Death hath no dominion ] Grant a make 
 Half-mortal, half-immortal ; earthy part, 
 And part ethereal : grant the soul of man 
 Eternal ; or in man the series ends. 
 
 Wide yawns the gap ; connexion is no more ; 730 
 
 p
 
 158 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VI. 
 
 Check'd Keason halts ; her next step wants support j 
 Striving to climb, she tumbles from her scheme ; 
 A scheme Analogy pronounced so true : 
 Analogy, man's surest guide below. 
 
 THUS far all Nature calls on thy belief. 735 
 
 And will LORENZO, careless of the call, 
 
 False attestation on all Nature charge, 
 
 Bather than violate his league with Death ] 
 
 Renounce his reason, rather than renounce 
 
 The dust beloved, and run the risk of heaven 1 740 
 
 what indignity to deathless souls ! 
 
 What treason to the majesty of man ! 
 
 Of man immortal hear the lofty style : * 
 
 " If so decreed, the' almighty will be done. 
 
 Let earth dissolve, yon ponderous orbs descend, 745 
 
 And grind us into dust : the soul is safe ; 
 
 The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck, 
 
 As towering flame from Nature's funeral pyre ; 
 
 O'er Devastation, as a gainer, smiles ; 
 
 His charter, his inviolable rights, 750 
 
 * The Sixth Night was published in 1743. A few years afterwards 
 the following six lines (a Christian paraphrase of Horace's Si fractut 
 illabatur orbit, impavidum ferient mints, $c.) were subjected to a 
 remarkable imitation, by the Rev. Charles Wesley, in one of his Hymns 
 descriptive of the Final Judgment. I subjoin his paraphrase, and mark 
 the imitations with ilalict. EDIT. 
 
 " Stand the' omnipotent decree : Sure to' emerge, and rise again, 
 
 Jehovah't will be done ! And mount above the wreck. 
 
 Nature's end we wait to see, Lo ! the heavenly tpirit towers, 
 
 And hear her final groan. Like flame o'er Nature't funeral pyre, 
 
 Let thit earth dissolve, and blend Triumphs in immortal powers, 
 In death the wicked and the just ; And claps his wings of fire. 
 
 Let those ponderous orbs descend, 
 And grind us into dust ! ' ' Nothing hath the just to lose 
 
 By worlds on worlds destroy 'd ; 
 
 " Rests secure the righteous man .' Far beneath his feet he views, 
 At liis Redeemer's beck, With smiles, the flaming void."
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 159 
 
 Well-pleased to learn from Thunder's impotence, 
 Death's pointless darts, and Hell's defeated storms." 
 
 BUT these chimeras touch not thee, LORENZO ! 
 
 The glories of the world thy sevenfold shield. 
 
 Other ambition than of crowns in air, 755 
 
 And superlunary felicities, 
 
 Thy bosom warms. I '11 cool it, if I can ; 
 
 And turn those glories that enchant, against thee. 
 
 What ties thee to this life proclaims the next. 
 
 If wise, the cause that wounds thee is thy cure. 760 
 
 COME, my ambitious ! let us mount together, 
 (To mount, LORENZO never can refuse,) 
 And from the clouds, where Pride delights to dwell, 
 Look down on Earth. What seest thou ? Wondrous things ! 
 Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the skies. 765 
 
 What lengths of labour'd lands ! what loaded seas ! 
 Loaded by man for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
 Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought, 
 His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
 Nor can the' eternal rocks his will withstand : 770 
 
 What levell'd mountains, and what lifted vales ! 
 O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell, 
 And gild our landscape with their glittering spires. 
 Some 'mid the wondering waves majestic rise ; 
 And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms. 775 
 
 Far greater still ! (what cannot mortal might ]) 
 See wide dominions ravish'd from the deep : 
 The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 
 Or southward turn : to delicate and grand 
 The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 780 
 
 How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 
 Ascend the skies ! The proud triumphal arch 
 Shows us half heaven beneath its ample bend. 
 High through mid-air, here streams are taught to flow ; 
 p 2
 
 160 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Whole rivers, there, laid by in basins, sleep. 785 
 
 Here, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join 
 
 Through kingdoms channell'd deep from shore to shore, 
 
 And changed Creation takes its face from man. 
 
 Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes, 
 
 Where fame and empire wait upon the sword ] 790 
 
 See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise, 
 
 BRITANNIA'S voice, that awes the world to peace ! 
 
 How yon enormous mole projecting breaks 
 
 The mid-sea furious waves ! Their roar amidst, 
 
 Out-speaks the Deity, and says, " main ! 795 
 
 Thus far, nor farther ! new restraints obey." 
 
 Earth 's disembowell'd ! measured are the skies ! 
 
 Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 
 
 Creation widens ! vanquish'd Nature yields ! 
 
 Her secrets are extorted ! Art prevails ! 800 
 
 What monuments of genius, spirit, power ! 
 
 AND now, LORENZO, raptured at this scene, 
 Whose glories render heaven superfluous ! say, 
 Whose footsteps these 1 Immortals have been here. 
 Could less than souls immortal this have done 1 805 
 
 Earth 's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal, 
 And proofs of immortality forgot. 
 
 To flatter thy grand foible, I confess 
 
 These are Ambition's works ; and these are great : 
 
 But this the least immortal souls can do : 810 
 
 Transcend them all. "But what can these transcend!" 
 
 Dost ask me, what ? One sigh for the distresa'd. 
 
 " What then for infidels 1 " A deeper sigh. 
 
 "T is moral grandeur makes the mighty man : 
 
 How little they who think aught great below ! 815 
 
 All our ambitions Death defeats, but one ; 
 
 And that it crowns. Here cease we ; but, ere long, 
 
 More powerful proof shall take the field against thec, 
 
 Stronger than Death, and smiling at the tomb.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VII. 
 
 BEING THE SECOND PART OF 
 
 THE INFIDKL RECLAIMED: 
 
 CONTAINING THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE OP 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 P 3
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As we are at war with the power, it were well if we were 
 at war with the manners, of France. A land of levity is a 
 land of guilt. A serious mind is the native soil of every 
 virtue, and the single character that does true honour to 
 mankind. The soul's immortality has been the favourite 
 theme with the serious of all ages. Nor is it strange ; it is 
 a subject by far the most interesting and important that 
 can enter the mind of man. Of highest moment this 
 subject always was, and always will be. Yet this its 
 highest moment seems to admit of increase, at this day ; a 
 sort of occasional importance is superadded to the natural 
 weight of it, if that opinion which is advanced in the 
 Preface to the preceding Night be just. It is there sup- 
 posed, that all our infidels, whatever scheme, for argument's 
 sake, and to keep themselves in countenance, they patron- 
 ize, are betrayed into their deplorable error by some doubt 
 of their immortality at the bottom. And the more I con- 
 sider this point, the more am I persuaded of the truth of 
 that opinion. Though the distrust of a futurity is a strange 
 error, yet it is an error into which bad men may naturally 
 be distressed. For it is impossible to bid defiance to final 
 ruin, without some refuge in imagination, some presump- 
 tion of escape. And what presumption is there ] There 
 are but two in nature ; but two within the compass of 
 human thought ; and these are, That either God will not, 
 or cannot, punish. Considering the Divine attributes, the
 
 164 KIQHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 first is too gross to be digested by our strongest wishes. 
 And, since omnipotence is as much a Divine attribute as 
 holiness, that God cannot punish, is as absurd a supposition 
 as the former. God certainly can punish, as long as wicked 
 men exist. In non-existence, therefore, is their only 
 refuge ; and, consequently, non-existence is their strongest 
 wish. And strong wishes have a strange influence on our 
 opinions ; they bias the judgment in a manner almost 
 incredible. And since on this member of their alternative 
 there are some very small appearances in their favour, and 
 none at all on the other, they catch at this reed, they lay 
 hold on this chimera, to save themselves from the shock 
 and horror of an immediate and absolute despair. 
 
 On reviewing my subject by the light which this argu- 
 ment, and others of like tendency, threw upon it, I was 
 more inclined than ever to pursue it, as it appeared to me 
 to strike directly at the main root of all our infidelity. In 
 the following pages, it is accordingly pursued at large ; and 
 some arguments for immortality, new at least to me, are 
 ventured on in them. There, also, the writer has made an 
 attempt to set the gross absurdities and horrors of annihila- 
 tion in a fuller and more affecting view than is, I think, to 
 be met with elsewhere. 
 
 The gentlemen for whose sake this attempt was chiefly 
 made, profess great admiration for the wisdom of Heathen 
 antiquity : what pity it is they are not sincere ! If they 
 were sincere, how would it mortify them to consider with 
 what contempt and abhorrence their notions would have 
 been received by those whom they so much admire ! What 
 degree of contempt and abhorrence would fall to their 
 share, may be conjectured by the following matter of fact,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 165 
 
 in my opinion, extremely memorable. Of all their Heathen 
 worthies, Socrates, it is well known, was the most guarded, 
 dispassionate, and composed : yet this great master of tem- 
 per was angry ; and angry at his last hour ; and angry 
 with his friend ; and angry for what deserved acknowledg- 
 ment ; angry for a right and tender instance of true friend- 
 ship towards him. Is not this surprising? What could be 
 the cause ? The cause was for his honour : it was a truly 
 noble, though, perhaps, a too punctilious, regard for 
 immortality ; for his friend asking him, with such an 
 affectionate concern as became a friend, where he should 
 deposit his remains, it was resented by Socrates, as imply- 
 ing a dishonourable supposition that he could be so mean 
 as to have regard for any thing, even in himself, that was 
 not immortal. 
 
 This fact, well considered, would make our infidels 
 withdraw their admiration from Socrates ; or make them 
 endeavour, by their imitation of this illustrious example, to 
 share his glory ; and, consequently, it would incline them 
 to peruse the following pages with candour and impar- 
 tiality ; which is all I desire, and that for their sakes ; for 
 I am persuaded, that an unprejudiced infidel must, neces- 
 sarily, receive some advantageous impressions from them. 
 
 July 1th, 1744.
 
 166 SIGHT THOUGHTS. HIOI1T VII. 
 
 CONTENTS OF NIGHT VII. 
 
 IN the Sixth Niglit arguments were drawn from Nature, in proof of 
 immortality. Here, others are drawn from Man : from his discon- 
 tent, p. 168 from his passions and powers, 169 from the gradual 
 growth of reason, 169 from his fear of death, 170 from the nature 
 of hope, 170 and of virtue, 171, &c. from knowledge, and love, as 
 being the most essential properties of the soul, 175 from the order 
 of creation, 176 from the nature of ambition, 177, &c- avarice, 
 180 pleasure, 181. A digression on the grandeur of the passions, 
 182. Immortality alone renders our present state intelligible, 183. 
 An objection from the Stoics' disbelief of immortality, answered, 
 184. Endless questions unresolvable, but on supposition of our 
 immortality, 185, 186. The natural, most melancholy, and pathetic 
 complaint of a worthy man under the persuasion of no futurity, 187, 
 &c. The gross absurdities and horrors of annihilation urged home 
 on LORENZO, 192, &c. The soul's vast importance, 197, &c. from 
 whence it arises, 200. The difficulty of being an infidel, 201. 
 The infamy, 202 the cause, 203 and the character, 203, of an 
 infidel state. What true free-thinking is, 204, 205. The necessary 
 punishment of the false, 206. Man's ruin is from himself, 206. An 
 infidel accuses himself of guilt and hypocrisy, and that of the worst 
 sort, 207. His obligation to Christians, 208. What danger he 
 incurs by virtue, 209. Vice recommended to him, 209. His high 
 pretences to virtue and benevolence exploded, 209. The conclusion, 
 on the nature of faith, 210 reason, 211 and hope, 211 with an 
 apology for this attempt, 212.
 
 167 
 
 NIGHT VII. 
 
 BEING THE SECOND PART OF 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED : 
 
 CONTAINING THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE OP 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 HEAVEN gives the needful, but neglected, call. 
 
 What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts, 
 
 To wake the soul to sense of future scenes? 
 
 Deaths stand like Mercurys in every way, 
 
 And kindly point us to our journey's end. 5 
 
 POPE, who couldst make immortals ! art thou dead ? 
 
 I give thee joy : nor will I take my leave, 
 
 So soon to follow. Man but dives in* death ; 
 
 Dives from the sun, in fairer day to rise : 
 
 The grave his subterranean road to bliss. 10 
 
 Yes, infinite Indulgence plann'd it so : 
 
 Through various parts our glorious story runs ; 
 
 Time gives the preface, endless Age unrolls 
 
 The volume (ne'er unroll'd) of human fate. 
 
 THIS, Earth and Skies t already have proclaim'd. 15 
 
 The world 's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 
 
 And who what God foretells (who speaks in things, 
 
 Still louder than in words) shall dare deny ] 
 
 If Nature's arguments appear too weak, 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto impressions is at death ; that of 
 the first octavo, in 1749, is to death. EDIT. 
 t Night the Sixth.
 
 168 NIGHT THOUGHTS. KIGHT VII. 
 
 Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 20 
 
 If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees, 
 
 Can he prove infidel to what he feds ? 
 
 He whose blind thought futurity denies, 
 
 Unconscious bears, BELLEROPHON ! like thee, 
 
 His own indictment ; he condemns himself : 25 
 
 Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
 
 Or Nature, there, imposing on her sons, 
 
 Has written fables ; man was made a lie. 
 
 WHY Discontent for ever harbour'd there 1 
 Incurable consumption of our peace ! 30 
 
 Kesolve me, why the cottager and king, 
 He whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 
 Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, 
 Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw, 
 Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, 35 
 
 In fate so distant, in complaint so near. 
 
 Is it that things terrestrial can't content] 
 
 Deep in rich pasture will thy flocks complain ] 
 
 Not so ; but to their master is denied 
 
 To share their sweet serene. Man, ill at ease 4o 
 
 In this, not his own place, this foreign field, 
 
 Where Nature fodders him with other food 
 
 Than was ordain'd his cravings to suffice, 
 
 Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast, 
 
 Sighs on for something more, when most enjoy'd. 45 
 
 Is Heaven then kinder to thy flocks than thee 1 
 
 Not so : thy pasture richer, but remote ; 
 
 In part, remote : for that remoter part 
 
 Man bleats from Instinct, though perhaps, debauch'd 
 
 By Sense, his Reason sleeps, nor dreams the cause. 60 
 
 The cause how obvious, when his Reason wakes ! 
 
 His grief is but his grandeur in disguise ; 
 
 And discontent is immortality.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 169 
 
 SHALL sons of Ether, shall the blood of Heaven, 
 
 Set up their hopes on earth, and stable here, 55 
 
 With brutal acquiescence in the mire ? 
 
 LORENZO, no ! They shall be nobly pain'd ; 
 
 The glorious foreigners, distress'd, shall sigh 
 
 On thrones ; and thou congratulate the sigh : 
 
 Man's misery declares him bora for bliss : 60 
 
 His anxious heart asserts the truth I sing, 
 
 And gives the sceptic in his head the lie. 
 
 OUR heads, our hearts, our passions, and our powers, 
 
 Speak the same language ; call us to the skies. 
 
 Unripen'd these, in this inclement clime, 65 
 
 Scarce rise above conjecture and mistake ; 
 
 And for this land of trifles those too strong 
 
 Tumultuous rise, and tempest human life : 
 
 What prize on earth can pay us for the storm 1 
 
 Meet objects for our passions Heaven ordain'd, 70 
 
 Objects that challenge all their fire, and leave 
 
 No fault but in defect. Bless'd Heaven ! avert 
 
 A bounded ardour for unbounded bliss ! 
 
 O for a bliss unbounded ! Far beneath 
 
 A soul immortal is a mortal joy. 75 
 
 Nor are our powers to perish immature ; 
 
 But, after feeble effort here, beneath 
 
 A brighter sun, and in a nobler soil, 
 
 Transplanted from this sublunary bed, 
 
 Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their bloom. 80 
 
 REASON progressive, Instinct is complete : 
 
 Swift Instinct leaps ; slow Reason feebly climbs. 
 
 Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
 
 Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 
 
 Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 85 
 
 Were man to live coe'val with the sun, 
 
 The patriarch pupil would be learning still ;
 
 170 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 Yet, dying, leave his lesson half-unlearnt. 
 
 Men perish in advance, as if the sun 
 
 Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd ; 90 
 
 If fit, with dim ILLUSTRIOUS to compare, 
 
 The sun's meridian with the soul of man. 
 
 To man why, step-dame Nature, so severe 1 
 
 Why thrown aside thy master-piece half-wrought, 
 
 While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ] 95 
 
 Or if abortively poor man must die, 
 
 Nor reach what reach he might, why die in dread 1 
 
 Why cursed with foresight, wise to misery 1 
 
 Why of his proud prerogative the prey ? 
 
 Why less pre-eminent in rank than pain 1 100 
 
 His immortality alone can tell j 
 
 Full ample fund to balance all amiss, 
 
 And turn the scale in favour of the just ! 
 
 His immortality alone can solve 
 
 That darkest of enigmas, human Hope ; 105 
 
 Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 
 
 Hope, eager Hope, the' assassin of our joy, 
 
 All present blessings treading under foot, 
 
 Is scarce a milder tyrant than Despair. 
 
 With no past toils content, still planning new, 110 
 
 Hope turns us o'er to Death alone for ease. 
 
 Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit ? 
 
 Why is a wish far dearer than a crown 1 
 
 That wish accomplish'd, why the grave of bliss? 
 
 Because, in the great future buried deep, 115 
 
 Beyond our plans of empire and renown, 
 
 Lies all that man with ardour should pursue ; 
 
 And HE who made him, bent him to the right. 
 
 MAN'S heart the' ALMIGHTY to the future sets, 
 
 By secret and inviolable springs ; 120 
 
 And makes his hope his sublunary joy.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 171 
 
 Mail's heart eats all things, and is hungry still : 
 
 " More, more ! " the glutton cries : for something new 
 
 So rages Appetite, if man can't mount, 
 
 He will descend. He starves on the possess'd. 125 
 
 Hence, the world's master, from Ambition's spire, 
 
 In Caprea plunged, and dived beneath the brute. 
 
 In that rank sty why wallow'd Empire's son 
 
 Supreme ] Because he could no higher fly ; 
 
 His riot was Ambition in despair. 130 
 
 OLD Home consulted birds ; LORENZO ! thou, 
 
 With more success, the flight of Hope survey ; 
 
 Of restless Hope, for ever on the wing. 
 
 High-perch'd o'er every thought that falcon sits, 
 
 To fly at all that rises in her sight ; 185 
 
 And, never stooping but to mount again 
 
 Next moment, she betrays her aim's mistake, 
 
 And owns her quarry lodged beyond the grave. 
 
 THERE should it fail us, (it must fail us there, 
 
 If being fails,) more mournful riddles rise, 140 
 
 And Virtue vies with Hope in mystery. 
 
 Why Virtue ? where its praise, its being fled ? 
 
 Virtue is true self-interest pursued : 
 
 What true self-interest of quite mortal man ] 
 
 To close with all that makes him happy here. 145 
 
 If Vice (as sometimes) is our friend on earth, 
 
 Then Vice is Virtue ; 't is our sovereign good. 
 
 In self-applause is Virtue's golden prize ; 
 
 No self-applause attends it on thy scheme. 
 
 Whence self-applause 1 From conscience of the right. 150 
 
 And what is right but means of happiness ? 
 
 No means of happiness when Virtue yields : 
 
 That basis failing, falls the building too, 
 
 And lays in ruin every virtuous joy.
 
 172 NIGHT THOUGHTS. KIGHT VII. 
 
 THE rigid guardian of a blameless heart, 155 
 
 So long revered, so long reputed wise, 
 
 Is weak ; with rank knight-errantries o'er-run. 
 
 Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 
 
 Of self-exposure, laudable and great, 
 
 Of gallant enterprise, and glorious death? 160 
 
 Die for thy country ? Thou romantic fool ! 
 
 Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink. 
 
 Thy country ! what to theel The Godhead, what,, 
 
 (I speak with awe !) though He should bid thee bleed 1 * 
 
 If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt, 165 
 
 Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow, 
 
 Be deaf ; preserve thy being ; disobey. 
 
 NOR is it disobedience : know, LORENZO ! 
 
 Whate'er the' ALMIGHTY'S subsequent command, 
 
 His first command is this : " Han, love thyself 170 
 
 In this alone, free-agents are not free. 
 
 Existence is the basis, bliss the prize : 
 
 If Virtue costs existence, 't is a crime, 
 
 Bold violation of our law supreme, 
 
 Black suicide ; though nations, which consult 175 
 
 Their gain at thy expense, resound applause. 
 
 SINCE Virtue's recompence is doubtful here, 
 
 If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 
 
 Why is man suffer'd to be good in vain ? 
 
 Why, to be good in vain, is man enjoin'd? 180 
 
 Why, to be good in vain, is man betray'd ? 
 
 Betray'd by traitors lodged in his own breast, 
 
 By sweet complacencies from Virtue felt? 
 
 Why whispers Nature lies on Virtue's part ? 
 
 * In the early impressions, these two lines read thus, 
 "Thy country! what to thee ? (I speak with awe,) 
 
 The Godhead, what ? though He should bid thee bleed ? "EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 173 
 
 Or if blind Instinct (which assumes the name 185 
 
 Of sacred Conscience) plays the fool in man, 
 
 Why Eeason made accomplice in the cheat'! 
 
 Why are the wisest loudest in her praise 1 
 
 Can man by Season's beam be led astray ? 
 
 Or, at his peril, imitate his God 1 190 
 
 Since Virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 
 
 Or both are true, or man survives the grave. 
 
 OK man survives the grave, or own, LORENZO, 
 
 Thy boast supreme a wild absurdity. 
 
 Dauntless thy spirit : cowards are thy scorn. 195 
 
 Grant man immortal, and thy scorn is just. 
 
 The man immortal, rationally brave, 
 
 Dares rush on death because he cannot die. 
 
 But if man loses all when life is lost, 
 
 He lives a coward, or a fool expires. 200 
 
 A daring infidel, (and such there are, 
 
 From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge, 
 
 Or pure heroical defect of thought,) 
 
 Of all Earth's madmen, most deserves a chain. 
 
 WHEN to the grave we follow the renown'd 205 
 
 For Valour, Virtue, Science, all we love, 
 And all we praise ; for Worth, whose noon-tide beam, 
 Enabling us to think in higher style, 
 Mends our ideas of ethereal powers ; 
 
 Dream we that lustre of the moral world 210 
 
 Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close 1 
 Why was he wise to know, and warm to praise, 
 And strenuous to transcribe in human life, 
 The Mind ALMIGHTY 1 Could it be, that Fate, 
 Just when the lineaments began to shine, 215 
 
 And dawn the DEITY, should snatch the draught, 
 With night eternal blot it out, and give 
 The Skies alarm, lest angels too might die 1 
 Q 3
 
 174 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 IF human souls, why not angelic too 
 
 Extinguished ] and a solitary GOD, 220 
 
 O'er ghastly ruin, frowning from His throne ? 
 
 Shall we this moment gaze on GOD in man ? 
 
 The next, lose man for ever in the dust ? 
 
 From dust we disengage, or man mistakes ; 
 
 And there, where least his judgment fears a flaw, 225 
 
 Wisdom and Worth how boldly he commends ! 
 
 Wisdom and Worth are sacred names ; revered 
 
 Where not embraced ; applauded, deified ! t 
 
 Why not compassion'd too 1 If spirits die, 
 
 Both are calamities ; inflicted both 230 
 
 To make us but more wretched : Wisdom's eye 
 
 Acute, for what ? To spy more miseries ; 
 
 And Worth, so recompensed, new-points their stings. 
 
 Or man surmounts the grave, or gain is loss, 
 
 And Worth exalted humbles us the more. 235 
 
 Thou wilt not patronize a scheme that makes 
 
 Weakness and Vice the refuge of mankind. 
 
 " HAS Virtue, then, no joys 1" Yes, joys dear-bought. 
 
 Talk ne'er so long, in this imperfect state 
 
 Virtue and Vice are at eternal war. 240 
 
 Virtue 's a combat ; and who fights for nought, 
 
 Or for precarious or for small reward ] 
 
 Who Virtue's self-reward so loud resound, 
 
 Would take degrees angelic here below, 
 
 And Virtue, while they compliment, betray, 245 
 
 By feeble motives and unfaithful guards. 
 
 The crown, the' unfading crown, her soul inspires : 
 
 'T is that, and that alone, can countervail 
 
 The Body's treacheries, and the World's assaults : 
 
 On Earth's poor pay our famish'd Virtue dies ! 260 
 
 Truth incontestable, in spite of all 
 
 A BAYLE has preach'd, or a VOLTAIRE believed !
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 175 
 
 IN man, the more we dive, the more we see 
 
 Heaven's signet stamping an immortal make. 
 
 Dive to the bottom of his soul, the base 255 
 
 Sustaining all, what find we? Knowledge, love. 
 
 As light and heat essential to the sun, 
 
 These to the soul. And why, if souls expire 1 
 
 How little lovely here ! How little known ! 
 
 Small knowledge we dig up with endless toil ; 260 
 
 And love unfeign'd may purchase perfect hate. 
 
 Why starved, on earth, our angel-appetites, 
 
 While brutal are indulged their fulsome fill 1 
 
 Were then capacities Divine conferr'd, 
 
 As a mock diadem, in savage sport, 265 
 
 Rank insult of our pompous poverty, 
 
 Which reaps but pain from seeming claims so fair ) 
 
 In future age lies no redress 1 and shuts 
 
 Eternity the door on our complaint 1 
 
 If so, for what strange ends were mortals made ! 270 
 
 The worst to wallow, and the best to weep ; 
 
 The man who merits most, must most complain. 
 
 Can we conceive a disregard in Heaven, 
 
 What the worst perpetrate, or best endure 1 
 
 THIS cannot be. To love, and know, in man 275 
 
 Is boundless appetite, and boundless power : 
 
 And these demonstrate boundless objects too. 
 
 Objects, powers, appetites, Heaven suits in ail ; 
 
 Nor, Nature through, e'er violates this sweet, 
 
 Eternal concord on her tuneful string. 280 
 
 Is man the sole exception from her laws ] 
 
 Eternity struck off from human hope, 
 
 (I speak with truth, but veneration too,) 
 
 Man is a monster, the reproach of Heaven, 
 
 A stain, a dark impenetrable cloud 285 
 
 On Nature's beauteous aspect ; and deforms, 
 
 (Amazing blot !) deforms her with her lord.
 
 176 NIGHT THOUGHTS. RIGHT VII. 
 
 If such is man's allotment, what is Heaven 1 
 Or own the soul immortal, or blaspheme. 
 
 OR own the soul immortal, or invert 290 
 
 All order. Go, mock-majesty! go, man! 
 
 And bow to thy superiors of the stall ; 
 
 Through every scene of sense superior far : 
 
 They graze the turf untill'd ; they drink the stream 
 
 Unbrew'd, and ever full, and unembitter'd 295 
 
 With doubts, fears, fruitless hopes, regrets, despairs ; 
 
 Mankind's peculiar ! Reason's precious dower ! 
 
 No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 
 
 Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar. 
 
 Their good is good entire, unmix'd, unmarrM ; 300 
 
 They find a paradise in every field, 
 
 On boughs forbidden, where no curses hang : 
 
 Their ill no more than strikes the sense ; unstretch'd 
 
 By previous dread, or murmur in the rear : 
 
 When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 305 
 
 Begins and ends their woe : they die but once ; 
 
 Bless'd, incommunicable privilege ! for which 
 
 Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 
 
 Philosopher or hero, sighs in vain. 
 
 ACCOUNT for this prerogative in brutes. 310 
 
 No day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot, 
 
 But what beams on it from eternity. 
 
 sole and sweet solution ! that unties 
 
 The difficult, and softens the severe ; 
 
 The cloud on Nature's beauteous face dispels ; 315 
 
 Restores bright order ; casts the brute beneath ; 
 
 And re-enthrones us in supremacy 
 
 Of joy, e'en here. Admit immortal life, 
 
 And Virtue is knight-errantry no more : 
 
 Each Virtue brings in hand a golden dower, 320 
 
 Far richer in reversion ; Hope exults,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 177 
 
 And, though much bitter in our cup is thrown, 
 
 Predominates, and gives the taste of heaven. 
 
 wherefore is the DEITY so kind ? 
 
 Astonishing beyond astonishment ! 325 
 
 Heaven our reward for heaven enjoy'd below. 
 
 STILL unsubdued t'hy stubborn heart 1 for there 
 
 The traitor lurks, who doubts the truth I sing. 
 
 Keason is guiltless ! Will alone rebels. 
 
 What, in that stubborn heart if I should find 330 
 
 New, unexpected witnesses against thee ? 
 
 Ambition, Pleasure, and the Love of Gain ! 
 
 Canst thou suspect that these, which make the Soul 
 
 The slave of earth, should own her heir of heaven 1 
 
 Canst thou suspect, what makes us disbalieve 335 
 
 Our immortality, should prove it sure ? 
 
 FIRST, then, Ambition summon to the bar. 
 
 Ambition's " shame, extravagance, disgust, 
 
 And inextinguishable nature," speak. 
 
 Each much deposes : hear them in their turn. 340 
 
 THY soul, how passionately fond of Fame ! 
 
 How anxious that fond passion to conceal ! 
 
 We blush, detected in designs on praise, 
 
 Though for best deeds, and from the best of men ; 
 
 And why ? Because immortal. Art Divine 345 
 
 Has made the body tutor to the soul ; 
 
 Heaven kindly gives our blood a moral flow ; 
 
 Bids it ascend the glowing cheek, and there 
 
 Upbraid that little heart's inglorious aim, 
 
 Which stoops to court a character from man ; 350 
 
 While o'er us in tremendous judgment sit 
 
 Far more than man, with endless praise and blame. 
 
 AMBITION'S boundless appetite out-speaks 
 
 The verdict of its shame. When souls take fire
 
 178 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 At high presumptions of their own desert, 355 
 
 One age is poor applause ; the mighty shout, 
 
 The thunder by the living few begun, 
 
 Late time must echo ; worlds unborn, resound. 
 
 We wish our names eternally to live : 
 
 Wild dream ! which ne'er had haunted human thought 360 
 
 Had not our natures been eternal too. 
 
 Instinct points out an interest in hereafter ; 
 
 But our blind Reason sees not where it lies ; 
 
 Or, seeing, gives the substance for the shade. 
 
 FAME is the shade of immortality, 365 
 
 And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, 
 
 Contemn'd ; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. 
 
 Consult the' ambitious, 't is ambition's cure. 
 
 " And is this all 1" cried CJESAR, at his height, 
 
 Disgusted. This third proof Ambition brings 37C 
 
 Of immortality : The first in fame, 
 
 Observe him near, your envy will abate : 
 
 Shamed at the disproportion vast between 
 
 The passion and the purchase, he will sigh 
 
 At such success, and blush at his renown. 375 
 
 And why ? Because far richer prize invites 
 
 His heart ; far more illustrious glory calls ; 
 
 It calls in whispers, yet the deafest hear. 
 
 AND can Ambition a fourth proof supply? 
 
 It can, and stronger than the former three ; 380 
 
 Yet quite o'erlook'd by some reputed wise. 
 
 Though disappointments in ambition pain, 
 
 And though success disgusts, yet still, LORENZO ! 
 
 In vain we strive to pluck it from our hearts ; 
 
 By Nature planted for the noblest ends. 385 
 
 Absurd the famed advice to PYRRHUS given, 
 
 More praised than ponder"d ; specious, but unsound : 
 
 Sooner that hero's sword the world had quell'd,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 179 
 
 Than Reason his ambition. Man must soar. 
 
 An obstinate activity within, 390 
 
 An insuppressive spring, will toss him up, 
 
 In spite of Fortune's load. Not kings alone, 
 
 Each villager has his ambition too ; 
 
 No sultan prouder than his fetter'd slave. 
 
 Slaves build their little Babylons of straw, 395 
 
 Echo the proud Assyrian in their hearts, 
 
 And cry, " Behold the wonders of my might !" 
 
 And why 1 Because immortal as their lord : 
 
 And souls immortal must for ever heave 
 
 At something great ; the glitter, or the gold ; 400 
 
 The praise of mortals, or the praise of Heaven. 
 
 NOB absolutely vain is human praise, 
 
 When human is supported by Divine. 
 
 I '11 introduce LORENZO to himself : 
 
 Pleasure and Pride (bad masters) share our hearts. 405 
 
 As Love of Pleasure is ordain'd to guard 
 
 And feed our bodies, and extend our race ; 
 
 The Love of Praise is planted to protect 
 
 And propagate the glories of the mind. 
 
 What is it but the Love of Praise inspires, 410 
 
 Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts, 
 
 Earth's happiness ? From that the delicate, 
 
 The grand, the marvellous, of civil life. 
 
 Want and Convenience, under- workers, lay 
 
 The basis, on which Love of Glory builds. 415 
 
 Nor is thy life, Virtue ! less in debt 
 
 To Praise, thy secret stimulating friend. 
 
 Were men not proud, what merit should we miss ! 
 
 Pride made the virtues of the Pagan world. 
 
 Praise is the salt that seasons right to man, 420 
 
 And whets his appetite for moral good. 
 
 Thirst of Applause is Virtue's second guard ; 
 
 Reason her first : but Reason wants an aid ;
 
 180 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Our private Reason is a flatterer ; 
 
 Thirst of Applause calls Public Judgment in, 425 
 
 To poise our own, to keep an even scale, 
 
 And give endanger'd Virtue fairer play. 
 
 HEKE a fifth proof arises, stronger still : 
 
 Why this so nice construction of our hearts ; 
 
 These delicate moralities of Sense ; 430 
 
 This constitutional reserve of aid 
 
 To succour Virtue, when our Reason fails ; 
 
 If Virtue kept alive by care and toil, 
 
 And oft the mark of injuries on earth, 
 
 When labour'd to maturity, (its bill 435 
 
 Of disciplines and pains unpaid,) must die 1 
 
 Why freighted rich to dash against a rock ] 
 
 Were man to perish when most fit to live, 
 
 how misspent were all these stratagems, 
 
 By skill Divine inwoven in our frame ! 440 
 
 Where are Heaven's holiness and mercy fled ? 
 
 Laughs Heaven at once at Virtue and at man ? 
 
 If not, why that discouraged, this destroy'd ] 
 
 THUS far Ambition. What says Avarice ? 
 
 This her chief maxim, which has long been thine : 445 
 
 " The wise and wealthy are the same." I grant it. 
 
 To store up treasure with incessant toil, 
 
 This is man's province, this his highest praise, 
 
 To this great end keen Instinct stings him on. 
 
 To guide that Instinct, Reason ! is thy charge ; 450 
 
 'T is thine to tell us where true treasure lies : 
 
 But, Reason failing to discharge her trust, 
 
 Or to the deaf discharging it in vain, 
 
 A blunder follows ; and blind Industry, 
 
 Gall'd by the spur, but stranger to the course, 455 
 
 (The course where stakes of more than gold are won,) 
 
 O'erloading, with the cares of distant age,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 181 
 
 The jaded spirits of the present hour, 
 Provides for an eternity below. 
 
 " THOU shalt not covet," is a wise command ; 460 
 
 But bounded to the wealth the sun surveys : 
 
 Look farther, the command stands quite reversed, 
 
 And avarice is a virtue most Divine. 
 
 Is faith a refuge for our happiness 1 
 
 Most sure. And is it not for reason too ? 465 
 
 Nothing this world unriddles, but the next. 
 
 Whence inextinguishable thirst of gain ] 
 
 Prom inextinguishable life in man. 
 
 Man, if not meant, by worth, to reach the skies, 
 
 Had wanted wing to fly so far in guilt. 470 
 
 Sour grapes, I grant, ambition, avarice ; 
 
 Yet still their root is immortality. 
 
 These its wild growths so bitter, and so base, 
 
 (Pain and reproach !) Eeligion can reclaim, 
 
 Refine, exalt, throw down their poisonous lee, 475 
 
 And make them sparkle in the bowl of bliss. 
 
 SEE, the third witness laughs at bliss remote, 
 
 And falsely promises an Eden here : 
 
 Truth she shall speak for once, though prone to lie, 
 
 A common cheat, and Pleasure is her name. 480 
 
 To Pleasure never was LORENZO deaf ; 
 
 Then hear her now, now first thy real friend. 
 
 SINCE Nature made us not more fond than proud 
 
 Of happiness, (whence hypocrites in joy, 
 
 Makers of mirth, artificers of smiles!) 485 
 
 Why should the joy most poignant Sense affords 
 
 Burn us with blushes, and rebuke our pride 1 
 
 Those heaven-born blushes tell us man descends, 
 
 E'en in the zenith of his earthly bliss. 
 
 Should Reason take her infidel repose, 490
 
 182 NIGHT THOUGHTS. KIGUT VII. 
 
 This honest instinct speaks our lineage high : 
 
 This instinct calls on darkness to conceal 
 
 Our rapturous relation to the stalls. 
 
 Our glory covers us with noble shame, 
 
 And he that '3 unconfounded is unmann'd. 495 
 
 The man that blushes is not quite a brute. 
 
 Thus far with thee, LORENZO, will 1 close : 
 
 Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made ; 
 
 But pleasure full of glory as of joy ; 
 
 Pleasure, which neither blushes nor expires. 500 
 
 THE witnesses are heard ; the cause is o'er ; 
 Let Conscience file the sentence in her court, 
 Dearer than deeds that half a realm convey : 
 Thus, seal'd by Truth, the' authentic record runs : 
 
 " KNOW, all ; know, infidels, unapt to know ! 505 
 
 'T is immortality your nature solves ; 
 
 'T is immortality deciphers man, 
 
 And opens all the mysteries of his make. 
 
 Without it, half his instincts are a riddle ; 
 
 Without it, all his virtues are a dream. 510 
 
 His very crimes attest his dignity. 
 
 His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame, 
 
 Declares him born for blessings infinite : 
 
 What less than infinite makes un-absurd 
 
 Passions, which all on earth but more inflames ? 515 
 
 Fierce passions, so mismeasured to this scene, 
 
 Stretch'd out, like eagles' wings, beyond our nest, 
 
 Far, far beyond the worth of all below, 
 
 For earth too large, presage a nobler flight, 
 
 And evidence our title to the skies." 520 
 
 YE gentle theologues of calmer kind ! 
 
 Whose constitution dictates to your pen, 
 
 Who, cold yourselves, think ardour comes from hell !
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 183 
 
 Think not our passions from Corruption sprung, 
 
 
 Though to Corruption now they lend their wings ; 
 
 525 
 
 That is their mistress, not their mother. All 
 
 
 (And justly) Reason deem Divine : I see, 
 
 
 I feel a grandeur in the Passions too, 
 
 
 Which speaks their high descent, and glorious end ; 
 
 
 Which speaks them rays of an eternal fire. 
 
 530 
 
 In Paradise itself they burnt as strong, 
 
 
 Ere ADAM fell, though wiser in their aim. 
 
 
 Like the proud Eastern, struck by Providence, 
 
 
 What, though our passions are run mad, and stoop, 
 
 
 With low terrestrial appetite, to graze 
 
 535 
 
 On trash, on toys, dethroned from high desire 1 
 
 
 Yet still, through their disgrace, no feeble ray 
 
 
 Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell : 
 
 
 But these (like that fallen monarch when reclaim'd) 
 
 
 When Reason moderates the rein aright, 
 
 540 
 
 Shall re-ascend, remount their former sphere, 
 
 
 Where once they soar'd illustrious ; ere seduced, 
 
 
 By wanton EVE'S debauch, to stroll on earth, 
 
 
 And set the sublunary world on fire. 
 
 
 BUT grant their frenzy lasts : their frenzy fails 
 
 545 
 
 To disappoint one providential end, 
 
 
 For which Heaven blew up ardour in our hearts :* 
 
 
 Were Reason silent, boundless Passion speaks 
 
 
 A future scene of boundless objects too, 
 
 
 And brings glad tidings of eternal day. 
 
 550 
 
 Eternal day! 'T is that enlightens all ; 
 
 
 And all, by that enlighten'd, proves it sure. 
 
 
 Consider man as an immortal being, 
 
 
 Intelligible all ; and all is great ; 
 
 
 A crystalline transparency prevails, 
 
 555 
 
 * This line was first introduced into the octavo edition, 1749 
 
 ; and 
 
 lias been retained in all subsequent impressions. EDIT. 
 
 
 B 2 

 
 184 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And strikes full lustre through the human sphere : 
 
 Consider man as mortal, all is dark, 
 
 And wretched ; Eeason weeps at the survey. 
 
 THE learn'd LORENZO cries, "And let her weep, 
 
 Weak, modern Keason ! Ancient times were wise. 560 
 
 Authority, that venerable guide, 
 
 Stands on my part : the famed Athenian Porch 
 
 (And who for wisdom so renown'd as they 1) 
 
 Denied this immortality to man." 
 
 I grant it ; but affirm, they proved it too. 565 
 
 A riddle this ! Have patience ; 1 11 explain. 
 
 WHAT noble vanities, what moral flights, 
 
 Glittering through their romantic wisdom's page, 
 
 Make us, at once, despise them, and admire ! 
 
 Fable is flat to these high-season'd sires ; 570 
 
 They leave the' extravagance of song below. 
 
 " Flesh shall not feel ; or, feeling, shall enjoy 
 
 The dagger or the rack ; to them alike 
 
 A bed of roses, or the burning bull." 
 
 In men exploding all beyond the grave, 575 
 
 Strange doctrine, this ! As doctrine it was strange ; 
 
 But not, as prophecy ; for such it proved, 
 
 And, to their own amazement, was fulfill'd : 
 
 They feign'd a firmness Christians need not feign. 
 
 The Christian truly triumph'd in the flame ; 580 
 
 The Stoic saw, in double wonder lost, 
 
 (Wonder at them, and wonder at himself,) 
 
 To find the bold adventures of his thought 
 
 Not bold, and that he strove to lie in vain. 
 
 WHENCE, then, those thoughts 1 those towering thoughts that 
 flew 585 
 
 Such monstrous heights 1 From instinct and from pride. 
 The glorious instinct of a deathless soul,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 185 
 
 Confusedly conscious of her dignity, 
 
 Suggested truths they could not understand. 
 
 In Lust's dominion, and in Passion's storm, 590 
 
 Truth's system broken, scatter'd fragments lay : 
 
 (As light in chaos, glimmering through the gloom :) 
 
 Smit with the pomp of lofty sentiments, 
 
 Pleased Pride proclaim'd what Eeason disbelieved. 
 
 Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell, 595 
 
 Kaved nonsense, destined to be future sense, 
 
 When life immortal in full day should shine, 
 
 And death's dark shadows fly the gospel sun.* 
 
 They spoke what nothing but immortal souls 
 
 Could speak ; and thus the truth they question'd, proved. 
 
 CAN then absurdities, as well as crimes, 601 
 
 Speak man immortal ? All things speak him so. 
 
 Much has been urged ; and dost thou call for more 1 
 
 Call ; and with endless questions be distress'd, 
 
 All unresolvable, if earth is all. 605 
 
 " WHY life, a moment ? infinite, desire 1 
 
 Our wish, eternity 1 ? our home, the grave ? 
 
 Heaven's promise dormant lies in human hope ; 
 
 Who wishes life immortal, proves it too. 
 
 Why happiness pursued, though never found] 610 
 
 Man's thirst of happiness declares It is ; 
 
 (For Nature never gravitates to nought ;) 
 
 That thirst unquench'd declares, It is not here. 
 
 My LUCIA, thy CLAKISSA, call to thought. 
 
 Why cordial friendship riveted so deep, 615 
 
 (As hearts, to pierce at first, at parting rend, ) 
 
 If friend and friendship vanish in an hour 1 
 
 Is not this Torment in the mask of Joy ? 
 
 Why by Eeflection marr'd the joys of Sense 1 
 
 * Tills line occurs first in the octavo impression of I/-*!'. KDJT. 
 R 3
 
 186 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 Why Past and Future preying on our hearts, 620 
 
 And putting all our present joys to death? 
 
 Why labours Reason ] Instinct were as well ; 
 
 Instinct, far better ; what can choose, can err : 
 
 how infallible the thoughtless brute ! 
 
 'T were well His Holiness* were half as sure. 625 
 
 Eeason with Inclination why at war ? 
 
 Why sense of guilt ? Why Conscience up in arms 1 " 
 
 CONSCIENCE of guilt is prophecy of pain, 
 
 And bosom-counsel to decline the blow. 
 
 Eeason with Inclination ne'er had jarr'd, 630 
 
 If nothing future paid forbearance here. 
 
 Thus on : these, and a thousand pleas uncall'd, 
 
 All promise, some insure, a second scene ; 
 
 Which, were it doubtful, would be dearer far 
 
 Than all things else most certain ; were it false, 635 
 
 What truth on earth so precious as the lie ] 
 
 This world it gives us, let what will ensue : 
 
 This world it gives, in that high cordial, hope ; 
 
 The future of the present is the soul : 
 
 How this life groans when sever'd from the next ! 640 
 
 Poor, mutilated wretch, that disbelieves ! 
 
 By dark distrust, his being, cut in two, 
 
 In both parts perishes ; life void of joy, 
 
 Sad prelude of eternity in pain ! 
 
 COETLBST thou persuade me the next life could fail 645 
 
 Our ardent wishes, how should I pour out 
 
 My bleeding heart in anguish, new as deep ! 
 
 with what thoughts thy hope, and my despair, 
 
 Abhorr'd ANNIHILATION, blasts the soul, 
 
 And wide extends the bounds of human woe ! 650 
 
 * An allusion to the Romish doctrine of the Pope's infallibility. 
 EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL EEOLAIMED. 187 
 
 Could I believe LORENZO'S system true,* 
 
 In this black channel would my. ravings run : 
 
 " GRIEF from the future borrow'd peace, ere-while. 
 
 The future vanish'd, and the present pain'd ! 
 
 Strange import of unprecedented ill ! 655 
 
 Fall, how profound ! Like LUCIFER'S, the fall ! 
 
 Unequal fate : his fall, without his guilt ! 
 
 From where fond Hope built her pavilion high, 
 
 The gods among, hurl'd headlong, hurl'd at once 
 
 To night, to nothing ! darker still than night. 660 
 
 If 't was a dream, why wake me, my worst foe ? 
 
 LORENZO ! boastful of the name of friend ! * 
 
 for delusion ! for error still ! 
 
 Could vengeance strike much stronger than to plant 
 
 A thinking being in a world like this, 665 
 
 Not over-rich before, now beggar'd quite, 
 
 More cursed than at the fall ? The sim goes out ! 
 
 The thorns shoot up ! What thorns in every thought ! 
 
 Why sense of better ] It embitters worse. 
 
 Why sense ? why life, if but to sigh, then sink 670 
 
 To what I was ? Twice nothing ! and much woe ! 
 
 Woe from Heaven's bounties ! woe from what was wont 
 
 To natter most, high intellectual powers. 
 
 " Thought, virtue, knowledge ! blessings, by thy scheme 
 All poison'd into pains. First, knowledge, once 675 
 My soul's ambition, now her greatest dread. 
 To know myself, true wisdom 1 No, to shun 
 That shocking science. Parent of despair, 
 Avert thy mirror ! if I see, I die. 
 
 "Know my Creator ? Climb His bless'd abode 680 
 By painful speculation, pierce the veil, 
 
 * This line first occurs in the octavo impression of IT^'P. EDIT.
 
 188 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 Dive in His nature, read His attributes, 
 
 And gaze in admiration on a foe, 
 
 Obtruding life, withholding happiness ? 
 
 From the full rivers that surround His throne, 685 
 
 Not letting fall one drop of joy on man : 
 
 Man gasping for one drop, that he might cease 
 
 To curse his birth, nor envy reptiles more ! 
 
 Ye sable clouds, ye darkest shades of night ! 
 
 Hide Him, for ever hide Him, from my thought, 690 
 
 Once all my comfort, source and soul of joy ! 
 
 Now leagued with furies, and with thee * against me.t 
 
 " Know His achievements ? Study His renown ? 
 
 Contemplate this amazing universe, 
 
 Dropp'd from His hand, with miracles replete ! 695 
 
 For what 1 'Mid miracles of nobler name, 
 
 To find one miracle of misery 1 
 
 To find the being, which alone can know 
 
 And praise His works, a blemish on His praise ? 
 
 Through Nature's ample range, in thought, to stroll, 700 
 
 And start at man, the single mourner there, 
 
 Breathing high hope, chain'd down to pangs and death 1 
 
 " KNOWING is suffering : and shall Virtue share 
 
 The sigh of Knowledge 1 Virtue shares the sigh. 
 
 By straining up the steep of excellent, 705 
 
 By battles fought, and from Temptation won, 
 
 What gains she, but the pang of seeing worth, 
 
 Angelic worth, soon shuffled in the dark 
 
 With every vice, and swept to brutal dust? 
 
 Merit is madness ; virtue is a crime ; 710 
 
 A crime to Eeason, if it costs us pain 
 
 * LOREN'ZO. 
 
 t In the first quarto impression, another line followed : 
 " Thee, mankind's friend and blackest fue ! " EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 189 
 
 Unpaid : what pain, amidst a thousand more, 
 
 To think the most abandon'd, after days 
 
 Of triumph o'er their betters, find in death 
 
 As soft a pillow, nor make fouler clay ! 715 
 
 " Duty ! Religion ! These, our duty done, 
 
 Imply reward. Keligion is mistake. 
 
 Duty ! There 'a none, but to repel the cheat. 
 
 Ye cheats, away ! ye daughters of my Pride ! 
 
 Who feign yourselves the favourites of the Skies : 720 
 
 Ye towering hopes, abortive energies ! 
 
 That toss and struggle in my lying breast, 
 
 To scale the skies, and build presumptions there, 
 
 As I were heir of an eternity. 
 
 Yain, vain ambitions ! trouble me no more. 725 
 
 Why travel far in quest of sure defeat 1 
 
 As bounded as my being, be my wish. 
 
 All is inverted, Wisdom is a fool. 
 
 Sense ! take the rein ; blind Passion ! drive us on ; 
 
 And, Ignorance ! befriend us on our way ; 730 
 
 Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace ! 
 
 Yes ; give the Pulse full empire ; live the Brute, 
 
 Since as the Brute we die. The sum of man, 
 
 Of godlike man, to revel and to rot ! 
 
 "Bui not on equal terms with other brutes : 735 
 
 Their revels a more poignant relish yield, 
 
 And safer too ; they never poisons choose. 
 
 Instinct, than Reason, makes more wholesome meals, 
 
 And sends all-marring Murmur far away. 
 
 For sensual life, they best philosophize ; 740 
 
 Theirs that serene the sages sought in vain : 
 
 "T is man alone expostulates with Heaven ; 
 
 His all the power, and all the cause, to mourn. 
 
 Shall human eyes alone dissolve in tears 1 
 
 And bleed in anguish none but human hearts 1 745
 
 190 KIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 The wide-stretch'd realm of intellectual woe, 
 
 Surpassing sensual far, is all our own. 
 
 In life so fatally distinguish'd, why 
 
 Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd in death ] 
 
 " EKB yet in being, was mankind in guilt 1 750 
 
 Why thunder'd this peculiar clause against us, 
 All-mortal, and all-wretched? Have the Skies 
 Reasons of state, their subjects may not scan, 
 Nor humbly reason when they sorely sigh 1 
 All-mortal, and all-wretched! 'T is too much; 755 
 
 Unparallel'd in Nature : 't is too much 
 On being unrequited at Thy hands, 
 OMNIPOTENT ! for I see nought but Power. 
 
 " AND why see that ? Why Thought ? To toil and eat, 
 
 Then make our bed in darkness, needs no thought. 760 
 
 What superfluities are reasoning souls ! 
 
 give eternity, or thought destroy ! 
 
 But without thought our curse were half unfelt ; 
 
 Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart ; 
 
 And therefore 't is bestow'd. I thank thee, Reason, 765 
 
 For aiding Life's too small calamities, 
 
 And giving being to the dread of Death ! 
 
 Such are thy bounties ! Was it then too much 
 
 For me to trespass on the brutal rights 1 
 
 Too much for Heaven to make one emmet more? 770 
 
 Too much for Chaos to permit my mass 
 
 A longer stay with essences unwrought, 
 
 tJnfashion'd, untormented into man ? 
 
 Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! 
 
 Wretched capacity of frenzy, Thought ! 775 
 
 Wretched capacity of dying, Life ! 
 
 Life, Thought, Worth, Wisdom, all (0 foul revolt !) 
 
 Oace friends to peace, gone over to the foe.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 191 
 
 " DEATH, then, has changed its nature too. Death, 
 
 Come to my bosom, thou best gift of Heaven ! 780 
 
 Best friend of man ! since man is MAN no more. 
 
 Why in this thorny wilderness so long, 
 
 Since there 's no Promised Land's ambrosial bower, 
 
 To pay me with its honey for my stings ? 
 
 If needful to the selfish schemes of Heaven 785 
 
 To sting us sore, why mock'd our misery ? 
 
 Why this so sumptuous insult o'er our heads ? 
 
 Why this illustrious canopy display'd 1 
 
 Why so magnificently lodged Despair ] 
 
 At stated periods, sure-returning, roll 790 
 
 These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute 
 
 Their length of labours and of pains, nor lose 
 
 Their misery's full measure 1 Smiles with flowers, 
 
 And fruits, promiscuous, ever-teeming earth, 
 
 That man may languish in luxurious scenes, 795 
 
 And in an Eden mourn his wither'd joys 1 
 
 Chum Earth and Skies man's admiration, due 
 
 For such delights ? Bless'd animals ! too wise 
 
 To wonder, and too happy to complain ! 
 
 " OUR doom decreed demands a mournful scene : 800 
 
 Why not a dungeon dark for the condemn'd ? 
 
 Why not the dragon's subterranean den, 
 
 For man to howl in 1 Why not his abode 
 
 Of the same dismal colour with his fate 1 
 
 A Thebes, a Babylon, at vast expense 805 
 
 Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders, 
 
 As congruous, as for man this lofty dome, 
 
 Which prompts proud Thought, and kindles high Desire ; 
 
 If, from her humble chamber in the dust, 
 
 While proud Thought swells, and high Desire inflames, 
 
 The poor worm calls us for her inmates there ; 811 
 
 And, round us, Death's inexorable hand 
 
 Draws the dark curtain close ; undrawn no more.
 
 192 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 " Undrawn no more ! Behind the cloud of Death, 
 
 Once, I beheld a sun; a sun which gilt 815 
 
 That sable cloud, and turn'd it all to gold : 
 
 How the grave 's alter'd ! fathomless as hell, 
 
 A real hell to those who dreamt of heaven ! 
 
 ANNIHILATION ! how it yawns before me ! 
 
 Next moment I may drop from thought, from sense, 820 
 
 The privilege of angels and of worms, 
 
 An outcast from existence ! and this spirit, 
 
 This all-pervading, this all-conscious soul, 
 
 This particle of energy Divine, 
 
 Which travels Nature, flies from star to star, 825 
 
 And visits gods, and emulates their powers, 
 
 For ever is extinguish'd. Horror ! Death ! 
 
 Death of that death I fearless once survey'd ! 
 
 When horror universal shall descend, 
 
 And Heaven's dark concave urn all human race, 830 
 
 On that enormous, unrefunding tomb, 
 
 How just this verse, this monumental sigh !" 
 
 Beneath the lumber of demolish' d worlds, 
 
 Deep in the rubbish of the general wreck, 
 
 Swept ignominious to the common mass 835 
 
 Of matter never dignified with life, 
 
 Here lie proud nationals, the sons of Heaven / 
 
 The lords of Earth, the property of worms! 
 
 Beings of yesterday, and no to-morrow! 
 
 Who lived in terror, and in pangs expired! 840 
 
 Att gone to rot in chaos ; or to make 
 
 Their happy transit into blocks or brutes, 
 
 Nor longer sully their CREATOR'S name. 
 
 LORENZO ! hear, pause, ponder, and pronounce. 
 Just is this history ? If such is man, 845 
 
 Mankind's historian, though Divine, might weep : 
 And dares LORENZO smile 1 I know thee proud :
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 193 
 
 For once let Pride befriend thee : Pride looks pale 
 
 
 At such a scene, and sighs for something more. 
 
 
 Amid thy boasts, presumptions, and displays, 
 
 850 
 
 And art thou then a shadow ] less than shade ] 
 
 
 A nothing ? less than nothing] To have been, 
 
 
 And not to be, is lower than unborn. 
 
 
 Art thou ambitious 1 Why then make the worm 
 
 
 Thine equal ] Kuns thy taste of pleasure high ] 
 
 855 
 
 Why patronize sure death of every joy ] 
 
 
 Charm riches ] Why choose beggary in the grave, 
 
 
 Of every hope a bankrupt, and for ever 1 
 
 
 Ambition, Pleasure, Avarice, persuade thee 
 
 
 To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth, 
 
 860 
 
 They * lately proved, thy soul's supreme desire. 
 
 
 WHAT art thou made of] Rather, how unmade ] 
 
 
 Great Nature's master-appetite destroy"d ! 
 
 
 Is endless life, and happiness, despised ] 
 
 
 Or both wish'd here, where neither can be found ] 
 
 865 
 
 Such man's perverse, eternal war with Heaven ! 
 
 
 Darest thou persist ] And is there nought on earth 
 
 
 But a long train of transitory forms, 
 
 
 Rising, and breaking, millions in an hour ] 
 
 
 Bubbles of a fantastic deity, blown up 
 
 870 
 
 In sport, and then in cruelty destroy'd ] 
 
 
 ! for what crime, unmerciful LOKENZO, 
 
 
 Destroys thy scheme the whole of human race ? 
 
 
 Kind is fell LTTCIFEK, compared to thee : 
 
 
 ! spare this waste of being half-Divine ; 
 
 875 
 
 And vindicate the' economy of Heaven. 
 
 
 HEAVEN is all love ; all joy in giving joy : 
 It never had created but to bless : 
 
 
 And shall it, then, strike off the list of life 
 
 
 * In the Sixth Night. 

 
 194 NldHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 A being bless'd, or worthy so to be 1 880 
 
 Heaven starts at an annihilating GOD. 
 
 Is that all Nature starts at, thy desire ? 
 
 Art such a clod to wish thyself all clay ? 
 
 What is that dreadful wish ? The dying groan 
 
 Of Nature, murder'd by the blackest guilt. 885 
 
 What deadly poison has thy nature drunk ? 
 
 To Nature undebauch'd no shock so great ; 
 
 Nature's first wish is endless happiness ; 
 
 Annihilation is an after-thought, 
 
 A monstrous wish, unborn till Virtue dies. 890 
 
 And, ! what depth of horror lies enclosed ! 
 
 For non-existence no man ever wish'd, 
 
 But first he wish'd the DEITY destroy'd. 
 
 IF so, what words are dark enough to draw 
 
 Thy picture true ? The darkest are too fair. 895 
 
 Beneath what baleful planet, in what hour 
 
 Of desperation, by what Fury's aid, 
 
 In what infernal posture of the soul, 
 
 All hell invited, and all hell in joy 
 
 At such a birth, a birth so near of kin, 900 
 
 Did thy foul fancy whelp so black a scheme 
 
 Of hopes abortive, faculties half-blown, 
 
 And deities begun, reduced to dust 1 
 
 " THERE 's nought," thou say'st, " but one eternal flux 
 
 Of feeble essences, tumultuous driven 905 
 
 Through Time's rough billows into Night's abyss." 
 
 Say, in this rapid tide of human ruin, 
 
 Is there no rock on which man's tossing thought 
 
 Can rest from terror, dare his fate survey, 
 
 And boldly think it something to be born 1 910 
 
 Amid such hourly wrecks of being fair, 
 
 Is there no central, all-sustaining base,
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 195 
 
 All-realizing, all-connecting power, 
 
 Which, as it calPd forth all things, can recall, 
 
 And force Destruction to refund her spoil? 915 
 
 Command the Grave restore her taken prey 1 
 
 Bid Death's dark vale its human harvest yield, 
 
 And Earth, and Ocean, pay their debt of man, 
 
 True to the grand deposit trusted there ? 
 
 Is there no Potentate, whose out-stretch'd arm, 920 
 
 When ripening Time calls forth the' appointed hour, 
 
 Pluck'd from foul Devastation's famish'd maw, 
 
 Binds Present, Past, and Future to his throne ] 
 
 His throne, how glorious, thus divinely graced, 
 
 By germinating beings clustering round ! 925 
 
 A garland worthy the Divinity ! 
 
 A throne, by Heaven's omnipotence in smiles, 
 
 Built (like a Pharos towering in the waves) 
 
 Amidst immense effusions of His love, 
 
 An ocean of communicated bliss ! 930 
 
 AN all-prolific, all-preserving GOD ! 
 
 This were a GOD indeed. And such is man, 
 
 As here presumed : he rises from his fall. 
 
 Think'st thou Omnipotence a naked root, 
 
 Each blossom fair of DEITY destroy'd ] 935 
 
 Nothing is dead ; nay, nothing sleeps ; each soul 
 
 That ever animated human clay 
 
 Now wakes, is on the wing ; and where, where, 
 
 Will the swarm settle 1 ? When the trumpet's call, 
 
 As sounding brass, collects us round Heaven's throne, 940 
 
 Conglobed we bask in everlasting day, 
 
 (Paternal splendour !) and adhere for ever. 
 
 Had not the soul this outlet to the skies, 
 
 In this vast vessel of the universe, 
 
 How should we gasp, as in an empty void ! 945 
 
 How in the pangs of famish'd Hope expire ! 
 
 8 2
 
 196 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 How bright my prospect shines ! How gloomy thine ! 
 
 A trembling world ! and a devouring God ! 
 
 Earth but the shambles of Omnipotence ! 
 
 Heaven's face all stain'd with causeless massacres 950 
 
 Of countless millions, born to feel the pang 
 
 Of being lost. LORENZO, can it be 1 
 
 This bids us shudder at the thoughts of life. 
 
 Who would be bora to such a phantom world, 
 
 Where nought substantial but our misery] 955 
 
 Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress, 
 
 So soon to perish, and revive no more ? 
 
 The greater such a joy, the more it pains.* 
 
 A world so far from great, (and yet how great 
 
 It shines to thee !) there 's nothing real in it ; 960 
 
 Being a shadow, consciousness a dream ! 
 
 A dream how dreadful ! Universal blank 
 
 Before it and behind ! Poor man, a spark 
 
 From non-existence struck by wrath Divine, 
 
 Glittering a moment, nor that moment sure, 965 
 
 'Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night, 
 
 His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb ! 
 
 LORENZO, dost thou feel these arguments 1 
 
 Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt ? 
 
 How hast thou dared the DEITY dethrone \ 970 
 
 How dared indict Him of a world like this ? 
 
 If such the world, creation was a crime ; 
 
 For what is crime, but cause of misery 1 
 
 Ketract, blasphemer ! and unriddle this, 
 
 * The subjoined four lines are found in the early quarto impressions, 
 and in the octavo of 1749 : but they were omitted in the collected 
 Works, in 1762 : 
 
 " A world, where dark, mysterious vanity 
 Of good and ill the distant colours blends, 
 Confounds all reason, and all hope destroys ; 
 Reason and hope our sole asylum here ! " EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 197 
 
 Of endless arguments, above, below, 975 
 
 Without us, and within, the short result, 
 " If man 's immortal, there 's a GOD in heaven." 
 
 BUT wherefore such redundancy, such waste 
 
 Of argument ] One sets my soul at rest ; 
 
 One obvious, and at hand, and ! at heart. 980 
 
 So just the Skies, PHILANDER'S life so pain'd, 
 
 His heart so pure ; that or succeeding scenes 
 
 Have palms to give, or ne'er had he been born. 
 
 "WHAT an old tale is this !" LORENZO cries. 
 
 I grant this argument is old ; but truth 985 
 
 No years impair ; and had not this been true, 
 
 Thou never hadst despised it for its age. 
 
 Truth is immortal as thy soul ; and fable 
 
 As fleeting as thy joys. Be wise, nor make 
 
 Heaven's highest blessing vengeance : be wise ! 990 
 
 Nor make a curse of immortality. 
 
 SAT, know'st thou what it is ? or what thou art ] 
 Know'st thou the' importance of a soul immortal 1 
 Behold this midnight glory : worlds on worlds ! 
 Amazing pomp ! Redouble this amaze ! 995 
 
 Ten thousand add, add twice ten thousand more ; 
 Then weigh the whole : one soul outweighs them all ; 
 And calls the' astonishing magnificence 
 Of unintelligent Creation, poor. 
 
 FOR this, believe not me ; no man believe ; 1000 
 
 Trust not in words, but deeds ; and deeds no less 
 Than those of the SUPREME ; nor His, a few ; 
 Consult them all. Consulted, all proclaim 
 Thy soul's importance : tremble at thyself; 
 For whom Omnipotence has waked so long; 1005 
 
 Has waked and work'd for ages ; from the birth 
 Of Nature to this unbelieving hour, 
 s 3
 
 198 HIGIIT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 IN this small province of His vast domain, 
 
 (All Nature bow, while I pronounce His name !) 
 
 What has GOD done, and not for this sole end, 1010 
 
 To rescue souls from death 1 The soul's high price 
 
 Is writ in all the conduct of the Skies. 
 
 The soul's high price is the Creation's key, 
 
 Unlocks its mysteries, and naked lays 
 
 The genuine cause of every deed Divine : 1015 
 
 That is the chain of ages which maintains 
 
 Their obvious correspondence, and unites 
 
 Most distant periods in one bless'd design : 
 
 That is the mighty hinge on which have turn'd 
 
 All revolutions, whether we regard 1 020 
 
 The natural, civil, or religious world ; 
 
 The former two but servants to the third ; 
 
 To that their duty done, they both expire, 
 
 Their mass new-cast, forgot their deeds renown'd ; 
 
 And angels ask, "where once they shone so fair !" 1025 
 
 To lift us from this abject to sublime ; 
 
 This flux to permanent ; this dark to day ; 
 
 This foul to pure ; this turbid to serene ; 
 
 This mean to mighty ! for this glorious end 
 
 The' ALMIGHTY, rising, His long sabbath broke : 1 030 
 
 The world was made ; was ruin'd ; was restored ; 
 
 Laws from the Skies were publish'd ; were repeal'd ; 
 
 On earth kings, kingdoms rose ; kings, kingdoms fell ; 
 
 Famed sages lighted up the Pagan world ; 
 
 Prophets from Sion darted a keen glance 1035 
 
 Through distant age ; saints travell'd ; martyrs bled ; 
 
 By wonders sacred Nature stood controll'd ; 
 
 The living were translated ; dead were raised ; 
 
 Angels, and more than angels, came from heaven ; 
 
 And, ! for this, descended lower still ; 1040 
 
 Gilt was hell's gloom : astonish'd at his Guest, 
 
 For one short moment Lucifer adored :
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 199 
 
 LORENZO ! and wilt thou do less ? For this 
 
 That hallow'd page fools scoff at, was inspired, 
 
 Of all these truths thrice-venerable code ! 1045 
 
 Deists, perform your quarantine ; and then 
 
 Fall prostrate ere you touch it, lest you die. 
 
 NOR less intensely bent infernal powers 
 
 To mar, than those of light this end to gain. 
 
 what a scene is here ! LORENZO, wake, 1050 
 
 Rise to the thought : exert, expand thy soul 
 
 To take the vast idea : it denies 
 
 All else the name of great. Two warring worlds ! 
 
 Not Europe against Afric ; warring worlds 
 
 Of more than mortal, mounted on the wing ! 1055 
 
 On ardent wings of energy and zeal, 
 
 High-hovering o'er this little brand of strife ! 
 
 This sublunary ball ! But strife, for what 1 
 
 In their own cause conflicting 1 No ; in thine, 
 
 In man's. His single interest blows the flame ; 1060 
 
 His the sole stake ; his fate the trumpet sounds, 
 
 Which kindles war immortal. How it burns ! 
 
 Tumultuous swarms of deities in arms ! 
 
 Force, force opposing, till the waves run high, 
 
 And tempest Nature's universal sphere. 1065 
 
 Such opposites eternal, steadfast, stern, 
 
 Such foes implacable, are Good and 111 ; 
 
 Yet man, vain man, would mediate peace between them. 
 
 THINK not this fiction. " There was war in heaven." 
 From heaven's high crystal mountain, where it hung, 1070 
 The' ALMIGHTY'S out-stretch'd arm took down His bow, 
 And shot His indignation at the deep : 
 Ee-thunder'd Hell, and darted all her fires. 
 And seems the stake of little moment still ? 
 And slumbers man, who singly caused the storm 1 1075 
 He sleeps. And art thou shock'd at mysteries ]
 
 200 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 The greatest, thou ! How dreadful to reflect, 
 What ardour, care, and counsel mortals cause 
 In breasts Divine ! how little in their own ! 
 
 WHERE'ER I turn, how new proofs pour upon me ! 1080 
 
 How happily this wondrous view supports 
 
 My former argument ! How strongly strikes 
 
 Immortal life's full demonstration here ! 
 
 Why this exertion ? Why this strange regard 
 
 From Heaven's Omnipotent indulged to man ? 1085 
 
 Because in man the glorious dreadful power, 
 
 Extremely to be pain'd, or bless'd, for ever. 
 
 Duration gives importance ; swells the price. 
 
 An angel, if a creature of a day, 
 
 What would he be 1 A trifle of no weight ; 1090 
 
 Or stand or fall, no matter which, he 's gone. 
 
 Because IMMORTAL, therefore is indulged 
 
 This strange regard of deities to dust. 
 
 Hence Heaven looks down on earth with all her eyes ; 
 
 Hence the soul's mighty moment in her sight ; 1095 
 
 Hence every soul has partisans above, 
 
 And every thought a critic in the skies : 
 
 Hence clay, vile clay, has angels for its guard, 
 
 And every guard a passion for his charge : 
 
 Hence, from all age, the Cabinet Divine 1100 
 
 Has held high counsel o'er the fate of man. 
 
 NOR have the clouds those gracious counsels hid. 
 
 Angels undrew the curtain of the throne, 
 
 And PROVIDENCE came forth to meet mankind. 
 
 In various modes of emphasis and awe, 1105 
 
 He spoke His will, and trembling Nature heard : 
 
 He spoke it loud, in thunder and in storm. 
 
 Witness, thou Sinai ! whose cloud-cover'd height, 
 
 And shaken basis, own'd the present GOD : 
 
 Witness, ye billows ! whose returning tide, 1110
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 201 
 
 Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air, 
 
 
 Swept Egypt and her menaces to hell : 
 
 
 Witness, ye flames the' Assyrian tyrant blew 
 
 
 To sevenfold rage, as impotent as strong : 
 
 
 And thou, Earth ! witness, whose expanding jaws 
 
 1115 
 
 Closed o'er Presumption's sacrilegious sons : * 
 
 
 Has not each element, in turn, subscribed 
 
 
 The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise ? 
 
 
 Has not flame, ocean, ether, earthquake, strove 
 
 
 To strike this truth through adamantine man ? 
 
 1120 
 
 If not all-adamant, LORENZO ! hear : 
 
 
 All is delusion ; Nature is wrapp'd up, 
 
 
 In tenfold night, from Reason's keenest eye ; 
 
 
 There 's no consistence, meaning, plan, or end 
 
 
 In all beneath the sun, in all above, 
 
 1125 
 
 (As far as man can penetrate,) or heaven 
 
 
 Is an immense, inestimable prize ; 
 
 
 Or all is nothing, or that prize is all. 
 
 
 And shall each toy be still a match for heaven ? 
 
 
 And full equivalent for groans below ? 
 
 1130 
 
 Who would not give a trifle to prevent 
 
 
 What he would give a thousand worlds to cure 1 
 
 
 LORENZO, thou hast seen (if thine to see) 
 
 
 All Nature, and her GOD, (by Nature's course, 
 
 
 And Nature's course controll'd,) declare for me : 
 
 1135 
 
 The Skies above proclaim " Immortal man ! " 
 
 
 And " Man immortal ! " all below resounds. 
 
 
 The world 's a system of theology, 
 
 
 Read by the greatest strangers to the schools ; 
 
 
 If honest, learn'd ; and sages o'er a plough. 
 
 1140 
 
 Is not, LORENZO, then, imposed on thee 
 
 
 This hard alternative, or to renounce 
 
 
 Thy reason and thy sense, or to believe 1 
 
 
 * Korah, &c.
 
 202 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 What then is unbelief] 'T is an exploit ; 
 
 A strenuous enterprise : to gain it, man 1145 
 
 Must burst through every bar of common sense, 
 
 Of common shame, magnanimously wrong. 
 
 And what rewards the sturdy combatant ] 
 
 His prize, repentance ; infamy, his crown. 
 
 BUT wherefore infamy 1 For want of faith,* . 1150 
 
 Down the steep precipice of wrong he slides ; 
 
 There 's nothing to support him in the right. 
 
 Faith in the future wanting, is, at least 
 
 In embryo, every weakness, every guilt ; 
 
 And strong Temptation ripens it to birth. 1155 
 
 If this life's gain invites him to the deed, 
 
 Why not his country sold, his father slain 1 
 
 'T is virtue to pursue our good supreme ; 
 
 And his supreme, his only good is here. 
 
 Ambition, Avarice, by the wise disdain'd, 1160 
 
 Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools, 
 
 And think a turf or tomb-stone covers all : 
 
 These find employment, and provide for Sense 
 
 A richer pasture, and a larger range ; 
 
 And Sense by right Divine ascends the throne, 1165 
 
 When Virtue's t prize and prospect are no more : 
 
 Virtue no more we think the will of Heaven. 
 
 Would Heaven quite beggar Virtue, if beloved ? 
 
 " HAS Virtue charms 1" I grant her heavenly fair ; 
 
 But if unportion'd, all will Interest wed ; 1170 
 
 Though that our admiration, this our choice. 
 
 The virtues grow on immortality; 
 
 That root destroy'd, they wither and expire. 
 
 * Instead of faith, the reading of the early quarto and octavo impres- 
 sions is worth. EDIT. 
 
 t Beaton is the reading of all the early quarto and octavo impressions. 
 EDIT.
 
 THH INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 203 
 
 A DEITY believed will nought avail ; 
 
 Rewards and punishments make GOD adored ; 1175 
 
 And hopes and fears give Conscience all her power. 
 
 As in the dying parent dies the child, 
 
 Virtue with Immortality expires. 
 
 Who tells me he denies his soul immortal, 
 
 Whate'er his boast, has told me he 's a knave. 1180 
 
 His duty 't is to love himself alone ; 
 
 Nor care, though mankind perish, if he smiles. 
 
 Who thinks ere long the man shall wholly die, 
 
 Is dead already ; nought but brute survives. 
 
 AND are there such 1 ? Such candidates there are 1185 
 
 For more than death ; for utter loss of being ; 
 
 Being, the basis of the DEITY ! 
 
 Ask you the cause 1 The cause they will not tell : 
 
 Nor need they : the sorceries of Sense ! 
 
 They work this transformation on the soul, 1190 
 
 Dismount her, like the serpent at the fall,* 
 
 Dismount her from her native wing, (which soar'd 
 
 Erewhile ethereal heights,) and throw her down, 
 
 To lick the dust, and crawl in such a thought. 
 
 Is it in words to paint you 7 ye fallen ! 1195 
 
 Fallen from the wings of Keason, and of Hope ! 
 
 Erect in stature, prone in appetite ! 
 
 Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain ! 
 
 Lovers of argument, averse to sense ! 
 
 Boasters of liberty, fast bound in chains ! 1200 
 
 Lords of the wide creation, and the shame ! 
 
 More senseless than the' irrationals you scorn ! 
 
 More base than those you rule ! than those you pity, 
 
 Far more undone ! ye most infamous 
 
 * This line was first introduced into the octavo of 1749, and has been 
 retained in all subsequent impressions. EDIT.
 
 204 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 Of beings, from superior dignity ! 1205 
 
 Deepest in woe, from means of boundless bliss ! 
 
 Ye cursed by blessings infinite ! because 
 
 Most highly favour'd, most profoundly lost ! 
 
 Ye motley mass of contradictions strong ! 
 
 And are you, too, convinced your souls fly off 1210 
 
 In exhalation soft, and die in air, 
 
 From the full flood of evidence against you ? 
 
 In the coarse drudgeries and sinks of Sense, 
 
 Your souls have quite worn out the make of Heaven, 
 
 By vice new-cast, and creatures of your own : 1215 
 
 But though you can deform, you can't destroy ; 
 
 To curse, not uncreate, is all your power. 
 
 LORENZO, this black brotherhood renounce : 
 
 Eenounce St. Evremont, and read St. Paul. 
 
 Ere rapt by miracle, by reason wing'd, 1220 
 
 His mounting mind made long abode in heaven. 
 
 This is freethinking, unconfined to parts, 
 
 To send the soul, on curious travel bent, 
 
 Through all the provinces of human thought ; * 
 
 To dart her flight through the whole sphere of man ; 1225 
 
 Of this vast universe to make the tour ; 
 
 In each recess of space and time at home ; 
 
 Familiar with their wonders ; diving deep, 
 
 And, like a prince of boundless interests there, 
 
 Still most ambitious of the most remote ; 1230 
 
 To look on truth unbroken and entire ; 
 
 Truth in the system, the full orb ; where truths, 
 
 By truths enlighten'd and sustain'd, afford 
 
 An arch-like strong foundation, to support 
 
 The' incumbent weight of absolute, complete 1235 
 
 * " From First to Last (but Last there none shall be !) ' 
 This line follows in the early quartos, but was omitted in all subsequent 
 impressions. EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 205 
 
 Conviction : Here the more we press, we stand 
 
 More firm ; who most examine, most believe. 
 
 Parts, like half-sentences, confound : the whole 
 
 Conveys the sense, and GOD is understood ; 
 
 Who not in fragments writes to human race : 1240 
 
 Eead His whole volume, sceptic ! then reply. 
 
 THIS, this is thinking free, a thought that grasps 
 Beyond a grain, and looks beyond an hour. 
 Turn up thine eye, survey this midnight scene ; 
 What are Earth's kingdoms to yon boundless orbs, 1245 
 Of human souls one day the destined range ? 
 And what yon boundless orbs to godlike man 1 
 Those numerous worlds that throng the firmament, 
 And ask more space in heaven, can roll at large 
 In man's capacious thought, and still leave room 1250 
 
 For ampler orbs, for new creations, there. 
 Can such a soul contract itself, to gripe 
 A point of no dimension, of no weight ] 
 It can : it does : the world is such a point ; 
 And of that point, how small a part enslaves ! 1255 
 
 How small a part of nothing, shall I say 1 
 Why not 1 Friends, our chief treasure ! How they drop ! 
 LUCIA, NARCISSA fair, PHILANDER gone ! 
 The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has oped 
 A triple mouth ; and, in an awful voice, 1260 
 
 Loud calls my soul, and utters all I sing. 
 How the world falls to pieces round about us, 
 And leaves us in a ruin of our joy ! 
 What says this transportation of my friends ] 
 It bids me love the place where now they dwell, 1265 
 
 And scorn this wretched spot they leave so poor. 
 Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee ; 
 There, there, LORENZO, thy CLARISSA sails. 
 Give thy mind sea-room ; keep it wide of earth, 
 That rock of souls immortal ; cut thy cord ; 1270 
 
 T
 
 206 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Weigh anchor ; spread thy sails ; call every wind ; 
 Eye thy great Pole-star ; make the land of life. 
 
 Two kinds of life has double-natured man, 
 
 And two of death : the last far more severe. 
 
 Life animal is nurtured by the sun ; 1275 
 
 Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams. 
 
 Life rational subsists on higher food, 
 
 Triumphant in His beams who made the day. 
 
 When we leave that sun, and are left by this, 
 
 (The fate of all who die in stubborn guilt,) 1280 
 
 'T is utter darkness ; strictly double death. 
 
 We sink by no judicial stroke of Heaven, 
 
 But Nature's course ; as sure as plummets fall. 
 
 Since GOD or man must alter ere they meet, 
 
 (For* light and darkness blend not in one sphere,) 1285 
 
 'T is manifest, LORENZO ! who must change. 
 
 IP then that double death should prove thy lot, 
 
 Blame not the bowels of the DEITY : 
 
 Man shall be bless'd as far as man permits. 
 
 Not man alone, all rationals Heaven arms 1290 
 
 With an illustrious but tremendous power 
 
 To counteract its own most gracious ends ; 
 
 And this of strict necessity, not choice : 
 
 That power denied, men, angels, were no more 
 
 But passive engines, void of praise or blame. 1295 
 
 A nature rational implies the power 
 
 Of being bless'd, or wretched, as we please ; 
 
 Else idle Reason would have nought to do ; 
 
 And he that would be barr'd capacity 
 
 Of pain, courts incapacity of bliss. 1300 
 
 Heaven loills our happiness, allows our doom ; 
 
 * For, and not since, is the reading of all the early quarto and octavo 
 impressions. EDI T.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 207 
 
 Invites us ardently, but not compels ; 
 
 Heaven but persuades, almighty man decrees ; 
 
 Man is the maker of immortal fates. 
 
 Man falls by man, if finally he falls ; 1305 
 
 And fall he must, who learns from Death alone 
 
 The dreadful secret that he lives for ever. 
 
 WHY this to thee ? thee yet perhaps in doubt 
 
 Of second life 1 But wherefore doubtful still ? 
 
 Eternal life is Nature's ardent wish : 1310 
 
 What ardently we wish, we soon believe : 
 
 Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroy'd : 
 
 What has destroy'd it 1 Shall I tell thee what ? 
 
 When fear'd the future, 't is no longer wish'd ; 
 
 And when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve. 1315 
 
 " Thus infidelity our guilt betrays." 
 
 Nor that the sole detection ! Blush, LORENZO, 
 
 Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt. 
 
 The future fear'd ? An infidel, and fear ! 
 
 Fear what 1 a dream 1 a fable 1 How thy dread, 1320 
 
 Unwilling evidence, and therefore strong, 
 
 Affords my cause an undesign'd support ! 
 
 How disbelief affirms what it denies ! 
 
 " It, unawares, asserts immortal life." 
 
 Surprising ! Infidelity turns out 1325 
 
 A creed, and a confession of our sins : 
 
 Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines. 
 
 LOKENZO, with LORENZO clash no more : 
 Nor longer a transparent vizor wear. 
 
 Think'st thou, BELIQION only has her mask ? 1330 
 
 Our infidels are Satan's hypocrites, 
 Pretend the worst, and at the bottom fail. 
 When visited by Thought, (Thought will intrude,) 
 Like him they serve, they " tremble, and believe." 
 Is their hypocrisy so foul as this? 1335 
 
 T 2
 
 208 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 So fatal to the welfare of the world ? 
 
 What detestation, what contempt their due ! 
 
 And, if unpaid, be thank'd for their escape 
 
 That Christian candour they strive hard to scorn. ' 
 
 If not for that asylum, they might find 1340 
 
 A hell on earth ; nor 'scape a worse IHow. 
 
 WITH insolence and impotence of thought, 
 
 Instead of racking fancy to refute, 
 
 Reform thy manners, and the truth enjoy. 
 
 But shall I dare confess the dire result] 1345 
 
 Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand ? 
 
 From purer manners, to sublimer faith, 
 
 Is Nature's unavoidable ascent : 
 
 An honest deist, where the gospel shines, 
 
 Matured to nobler, in the Christian ends. 1350 
 
 When that bless'd change arrives, e'en cast aside 
 
 This song superfluous : life immortal strikes 
 
 Conviction, in a flood of light Divine. 
 
 A Christian dwells, like URIEL,* in the sun. 
 
 Meridian Evidence puts Doubt to flight ; 1355 
 
 And ardent Hope anticipates the skies. 
 
 Of that bright sun, LORENZO ! scale the sphere : 
 
 "T is easy ; it invites thee ; it descends 
 
 From heaven to woo, and waft thee whence it came : 
 
 Read and revere the sacred page ; a page 1360 
 
 Where triumphs Immortality ; a page 
 
 Which not the whole creation could produce ; 
 
 Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; 
 
 In Nature's ruins not one letter lost : 
 
 'T is printed in the minds of gods for ever.f 1365 
 
 * MILTON. 
 
 t This is the collocation of the two lines in all the early impressions ; 
 but in the collected Works, (1762,) they assume another form : 
 " *T is printed in the minds of gods for ever, 
 In Nature's ruins not one letter lost." EDIT.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 209 
 
 IN proud disdain of what e'en gods adore, 
 
 
 Dost smile ] Poor wretch ! thy guardian-angel weeps. 
 
 
 Angels and men assent to what I sing ; 
 
 
 Wits smile, and thank me for my midnight dream. 
 
 
 How vicious hearts fume frenzy to the brain ! 
 
 1370 
 
 Parts push us on to Pride, and Pride to Shame ; 
 
 
 Pert Infidelity is Wit's cockade, 
 
 
 To grace the brasen brow that braves the Skies, 
 
 
 By loss of being dreadfully secure. 
 
 
 LORENZO ! if thy doctrine wins the day, 
 
 1375 
 
 And drives my dreams, defeated, from the field ; 
 
 
 If this is all, if earth a final scene, 
 
 
 Take heed : stand fast ; be sure to be a knave ; 
 
 
 A knave in grain ; ne'er deviate to the right : 
 
 
 Shouldst thou be good how infinite thy loss ! 
 
 1380 
 
 Guilt only makes annihilation gain. 
 
 
 Bless'd scheme ! which Life deprives of comfort, Death 
 
 
 Of hope ; and which VICE only recommends ! 
 
 
 If so, where, infidels, your bait thrown out 
 
 
 To catch weak converts 1 Where your lofty boast 
 
 1385 
 
 Of zeal for virtue, and of love to man ? 
 
 
 ANNIHILATION, I confess, in these. 
 
 
 WHAT can reclaim you ? Dare I hope profound 
 
 
 Philosophers the converts of a song 1 ? 
 
 
 Yet know, its title* flatters you, not me; 
 
 1390 
 
 Tours be the praise to make my title good : 
 
 
 Mine to bless Heaven, and triumph in your praise. 
 
 
 But since so pestilential your disease, 
 
 
 Though sovereign is the medicine I prescribe, 
 
 
 As yet I '11 neither triumph nor despair ; 
 
 1395 
 
 But hope, ere long, my midnight dream will wake 
 
 
 Your hearts, and teach your wisdom to be wise : 
 
 
 For why should souls immortal, made for bliss, 
 
 
 * The Infidel Reclaimed. 
 
 
 T 3 

 
 210 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VII. 
 
 E'er wish (and wish in vain !) that souls could die ! 
 
 What ne'er can die, ! grant to live ; and crown ] 400 
 
 The wish, and aim, and labour of the Skies ; 
 
 Increase, and enter on, the joys of heaven : 
 
 Thus shall my title pass a sacred seal, 
 
 Receive an imprimatur from above, 
 
 While angels shout " An Infidel Reclaim'd !" 1405 
 
 To close, LORENZO ! Spite of all my pains, 
 
 Still seems it strange that thou shouldst live for ever 1 
 
 Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all 1 
 
 This is a miracle ; and that no more. 
 
 Who gave beginning can exclude an end. 1410 
 
 Deny thou art : then doubt if thou shott be. 
 
 A miracle with miracles enclosed 
 
 Is man : and starts his faith at what is strange ] 
 
 What less than wonders from the Wonderful ] 
 
 What less than miracles from GOD can flow] 1415 
 
 Admit a GOD, (that mystery supreme, 
 
 That Cause uncaused !) all other wonders cease; 
 
 Nothing is marvellous for Him to do : 
 
 Deny Him all is mystery besides ; 
 
 Millions of mysteries! each darker far 1420 
 
 Than that thy wisdom would unwisely shun. 
 
 If weak thy faith, why choose the harder side ? 
 
 We nothing know but what is marvellous ; 
 
 Yet what is marvellous we can't believe. 
 
 So weak our reason, and so great our GOD, 1425 
 
 What most surprises in the sacred page, 
 
 Or full as strange, or stranger, must be true. 
 
 Faith is not Reason's labour, but repose. 
 
 To Faith and Virtue why so backward man ? 
 
 From hence : The Present strongly strikes us all ; 1430 
 
 The Future, faintly : can we, then, be men 1 
 
 If men, LORENZO ! the reverse is right.
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 211 
 
 Reason is man's peculiar ; Sense, the brute's. 
 
 The Present is the scanty realm of Sense ; 
 
 The Future, Reason's empire unconfined : 1435 
 
 On that expending all her godlike power, 
 
 She plans, provides, expatiates, triumphs there ; 
 
 There builds her blessings ; there expects her praise ; 
 
 And nothing asks of Fortune or of men. 
 
 And what is Reason ? Be she thus denned : 1440 
 
 Reason is upright stature in the soul. 
 
 ! be a man ; and strive to be a god. 
 
 " FOR what ]" (thou say'st :) " to damp the joys of life V 
 
 No; to give heart and substance to thy joys. 
 
 That tyrant, Hope, mark how she domineers : 1445 
 
 She bids us quit realities for dreams ; 
 
 Safety and peace, for hazard and alarm : 
 
 That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul, 
 
 She bids Ambition quit its taken prize, 
 
 Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 1450 
 
 Though bearing crowns, to spring at distant game, 
 
 And plunge in toils and dangers for repose. 
 
 If hope precarious, and of things, when gain'd, 
 
 Of little moment, and as little stay, 
 
 Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys ; 1455 
 
 What, then, that hope, which nothing can defeat, 
 
 Our leave unask'd ] Rich hope of boundless bliss ! 
 
 Bliss past man's power to paint it ; Time's, to close ! 
 
 THIS hope is earth's most estimable prize : 
 
 This is man's portion, while no more than man : 1460 
 
 Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 
 
 Passions of prouder name befriend us less. 
 
 Joy has her tears ; and Transport has her death : 
 
 Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, 
 
 Man's heart at once inspirits and serenes; 1465 
 
 Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys.
 
 212 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT Vlt. 
 
 'T is all our present state can safely bear, 
 
 Health to the frame, and vigour to the mind ! 
 
 A joy attemper'd, a chastised delight ! * 
 
 Like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet ! 1470 
 
 'T is man's full cup, his Paradise below ! 
 
 A BLESS'D hereafter, then, or hoped, or gain'd, 
 
 Is all ; our whole of happiness : full proof 
 
 I chose no trivial or inglorious theme. 
 
 And know, ye foes to song ! (well-meaning men, 1475 
 
 Though quite forgotten half your Bible's t praise !) 
 
 Important truths, in spite of verse, may please : 
 
 Grave minds you praise ; nor can you praise too much : 
 
 If there is weight in an ETERNITY, 
 
 Let the grave listen ; and be graver stilL 1480 
 
 * In the early impressions, quarto and octavo, the reading of thU 
 line was, 
 
 " And to the modest eye chastised delight I " Err. 
 t The poetical parts of it.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VIIL 
 
 TIRTUE'S APOLOGV; 
 OB, 
 
 THE MAN OF THE WOEI.P ANSWERED. 
 
 II* WHICH ARE CONSIDERED, THE LOTS OP THIS LIFE ; THE AMBITION 
 AND PLEASURE, WITH THE WIT AND WISDOM, OF THE WORLD,
 
 215 
 NIGHT VIII. 
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 
 
 AND has all Nature, then, espoused my part 1 
 
 Have I bribed Heaven and Earth to plead against thee 1 
 
 And is thy soul immortal? What remains'} 
 
 All, all, LOKENZO ! Make immortal BLESS'D. 
 
 Unbless'd immortals t what can shock us more 1 6 
 
 And yet LOKENZO still affects the world ; 
 
 There, stows his treasure ; thence, his title draws, 
 
 MAN OF THE WORLD ! (for such wouldst thou be call'd !) 
 
 And art thou proud of that inglorious style 1 
 
 Proud of reproach ? for a reproach it was, 10 
 
 In ancient days ; and CHRISTIAN in an age, 
 
 When men were men, and not ashamed of Heaven 
 
 Fired their ambition, as it crown'd their joy. 
 
 Sprinkled with dews from the Castalian font, 
 
 Fain would I re-baptize thee, and confer 15 
 
 A purer spirit, and a nobler name. 
 
 THY fond attachments, fatal and inflamed, 
 
 Point out my path, and dictate to my song : 
 
 To thee the World how fair ! how strongly strikes 
 
 Ambition ! and gay Pleasure stronger still ! 20 
 
 Thy triple bane I the triple bolt, that lays 
 
 Thy Virtue dead ! Be these my triple theme ; 
 
 Nor shall thy wit or wisdom be forgot. 
 
 COMMON the theme ; not so the song ; if she 
 
 My song invokes, URANIA, deigns to smile. 25 
 
 The charm that chains us to the World, her foe,
 
 216 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 If she dissolves, the man of earth, at once, 
 Starts from his trance, and sighs for other scenes ; 
 Scenes, where these sparks of night, these stars, shall shine 
 Unnumber'd suns ; (for all things as they are 30 
 
 The bless'd behold ;) and, in one glory, pour 
 Their blended blaze on man's astonish'd sight ; 
 A blaze, the least illustrious object there. 
 
 LORENZO ! since Eternal is at hand, 
 
 To swallow Time's ambitions ; as the vast 35 
 
 Leviathan, the bubbles vain that ride 
 
 High on the foaming billow ; what avail 
 
 High titles, high descent, attainments high, 
 
 If unattain'd our highest ] LORENZO ! 
 
 What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 40 
 
 What towering hopes, what sallies from the sun, 
 
 What grand surveys of destiny Divine, 
 
 And pompous presage of unfathom'd fate, 
 
 Should roll in bosoms where a spirit burns, 
 
 Bound for eternity ; in bosoms read 45 
 
 By Him who foibles in archangels sees ! 
 
 On human hearts He bends a jealous eye, 
 
 And marks, and in Heaven's register enrols, 
 
 The rise and progress of each option there ; 
 
 Sacred to doomsday ! That the page unfolds, 50 
 
 And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men. 
 
 AND what an option, LORENZO, thine ! 
 
 This world ! and this, unrivall'd by the skies ! 
 
 A world, where Lust of Pleasure, Grandeur, Gold, 
 
 Three demons that divide its realms between them, 55 
 
 With strokes alternate buffet to and fro 
 
 Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball ; 
 
 Till with the giddy circle sick and tired, 
 
 It pants for peace, and drops into despair. 
 
 Such is the world LORENZO sets above 60
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOOT. 217 
 
 That glorious promise angels were esteem'd 
 
 Too mean to bring : a promise, their Adored 
 
 Descended to communicate, and press, 
 
 By counsel, miracle, life, death, on man. 
 
 Such is the world LORENZO'S wisdom wooes, 65 
 
 And on its thorny pillow seeks repose ; 
 
 A pillow which, like opiates ill-prepared, 
 
 Intoxicates, but not composes ; fills 
 
 The visionary mind with gay chimeras, 
 
 All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest ; 70 
 
 What unfeign'd travail, and what dreams of joy! 
 
 How frail men, things ! how momentary both ! 
 
 Fantastic chase, of shadows hunting shades ! 
 
 The gay, the busy, equal, though unlike ; 
 
 Equal in wisdom, differently wise ! 75 
 
 Through flowery meadows, and through dreary wastes, 
 
 One bustling, and one dancing, into death. 
 
 There 's not a day but, to the man of thought, 
 
 Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach 
 
 On life, and makes him sick of seeing more. 80 
 
 The scenes of business tell us " what are men ;" 
 
 The scenes of pleasure " what is all beside :" 
 
 There, others we despise ; and here, ourselves. 
 
 Amid disgust eternal, dwells delight 1 
 
 'T is approbation strikes the string of joy. 85 
 
 WHAT wondrous prize has kindled this career, 
 
 Stuns with the din, and chokes us with the dust, 
 
 On Life's gay stage, one inch above the grave 1 
 
 The proud run up and down in quest of eyes ; 
 
 The sensual, in pursuit of something worse ; 90 
 
 The grave, of gold ; the politic, of power ; 
 
 And all, of other butterflies, as vain ! 
 
 As eddies draw things frivolous and light, 
 
 How is man's heart by vanity drawn in ;
 
 218 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 On the swift circle of returning toys, 95 
 
 Whirl'd, straw-like, round and round, and then ingulf d, 
 Where gay delusion darkens to despair ! 
 
 " THIS is a beaten track." Is this a track 
 
 Should not be beaten ? Never beat enough, 
 
 Till enough learn'd the truths it would inspire. 100 
 
 Shall Truth be silent because Folly frowns ? 
 
 Turn the world's history ; what find we there, 
 
 But Fortune's sports, or Nature's cruel claims, 
 
 Or woman's artifice, or man's revenge, 
 
 And endless inhumanities on man ] 105 
 
 Fame's trumpet seldom sounds but, like the knell, 
 
 It brings bad tidings ! How it hourly blows 
 
 Man's misadventures round the listening world ! 
 
 Man is the tale of narrative Old Time ; 
 
 Sad tale ! which high as Paradise begins. 110 
 
 As if the toil of travel to delude, 
 
 From stage to stage, in his eternal round, 
 
 The Days, his daughters, as they spin our hours 
 
 On Fortune's wheel, where accident unthought 
 
 Oft, in a moment, snaps life's strongest thread, 115 
 
 Each, in her turn, some tragic story tells, 
 
 With, now-and-then, a wretched farce between ; 
 
 And fills his chronicle with human woes. 
 
 TIME'S daughters, true as those of men, deceive us ; 
 
 Not one but puts some cheat on all mankind : 120 
 
 While in their father's bosom, not yet ours, 
 
 They flatter our fond hopes ; and promise much 
 
 Of amiable, but hold him not o'er-wise 
 
 Who dares to trust them ; and laugh round the year 
 
 At still confiding, still confounded man, 1 25 
 
 Confiding, though confounded ; hoping on, 
 
 Untaught by trial, unconvinced by proof, 
 
 And ever looking for the never seen.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 219 
 
 Life to the last, like harden'd felons, lies ; 
 
 Nor owns itself a cheat, till it expires. 130 
 
 Its little joys go out by one and one, 
 
 And leave poor man, at length, in perfect night ; 
 
 Night darker than what now involves the pole. 
 
 THOU, who dost permit these ills to fall 
 
 For gracious ends, and wouldst that man should mourn ! 
 
 THOU, whose hand this goodly fabric framed, 136 
 
 Who know'st it best, and wouldst that man should know ! 
 
 What is this sublunary world 1 A vapour ! 
 
 A vapour all it holds ; itself a vapour ; 
 
 From the damp bed of Chaos, by Thy beam 140 
 
 Exhaled, ordain'd to swim its destined hour 
 
 In ambient air, then melt, and disappear ! 
 
 Earth's days are number'd, nor remote her doom ; 
 
 As mortal, though less transient than her sons : 
 
 Yet they dote on her, as the world and they 145 
 
 Were both eternal, solid ; THOU, a dream. 
 
 THEY dote ! on what 1 Immortal views apart, 
 A region of outsides, a land of shadows ! 
 A fruitful field of flowery promises ! 
 
 A wilderness for joys, perplex'd with doubts, 150 
 
 And sharp with thorns ! a troubled ocean, spread 
 With bold adventurers, their all on board ; 
 No second hope if here their fortune frowns : 
 Frown soon it must. Of various rates they sail, 
 Of ensigns various ; all alike in this, 155 
 
 All restless, anxious ; toss'd with hopes and fears 
 In calmest skies : obnoxious all to storm ; 
 And stormy the most general blast of life : 
 All bound for happiness ; yet few provide 
 The chart of Knowledge, pointing where it lies ; 160 
 
 Or Virtue's helm, to shape the course design'd. 
 All, more or less, capricious Fate lament, 
 u 2
 
 220 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Now lifted by the tide, and now resorb'd, 
 
 And farther from their wishes than before : 
 
 All, more or less, against each other dash, 165 
 
 To mutual hurt by gusts of passion driven, 
 
 And suffering more from Folly than from Fate. 
 
 OCEAN, thou dreadful and tumultuous home 
 
 Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! 
 
 Death's capital, where most he domineers, 170 
 
 With all his chosen terrors frowning round, 
 
 (Though lately feasted high at Albion's cost,*) 
 
 Wide opening and loud roaring still for more ! 
 
 Too faithful mirror ! how dost thou reflect 
 
 The melancholy face of human life ! 175 
 
 The strong resemblance tempts me farther still ; 
 
 And haply Britain may be deeper struck 
 
 By moral truth, in such a mirror seen, 
 
 Which Nature holds for ever at her eye. 
 
 SELF-FLATTEK'D, unexperienced, high in hope, 180 
 
 When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, 
 
 We cut our cable, launch into the world, 
 
 And fondly dream each wind and star our friend ; 
 
 All, in some darling enterprise embark'd : 
 
 But where is he can fathom its evenf?+ 185 
 
 Amid a multitude of artless hands, 
 
 Ruin's sure perquisite, her lawful prize ! 
 
 Some steer aright ; but the black blast blows hard, 
 
 And puffs them wide of hope : with hearts of proof, 
 
 Full against wind and tide, some win their way ; 190 
 
 And when strong Effort has deserved the port, 
 
 And tugg'd it into view, 't is won 1 't is lost ! 
 
 * Admiral Balchen, &c. 
 
 t Instead of event, the edition of the collected Works, in 1762, had 
 extent: which was copied into most of the modern impressions. EDIT.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 221 
 
 Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate : 
 
 They strike ; and while they triumph, they expire. 
 
 In stress of weather, most ; some sink outright ; 195 
 
 O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close ; 
 
 To-morrow knows not they were ever born. 
 
 Others a short memorial leave behind, 
 
 Like a flag floating, when the bark 's ingulf 'd ; 
 
 It floats a moment, and is seen no more : 200 
 
 One C-sssAR lives ; a thousand are forgot. 
 
 How few, beneath auspicious planets born, 
 
 (Darlings of Providence, fond Fate's elect !) 
 
 With swelling sails make good the promised port, 
 
 With all their wishes freighted ! Yet e'en these, 205 
 
 Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain. 
 
 Free from misfortune, not from Nature free, 
 
 They still are men ; and when is man secure ] 
 
 As fatal Time as Storm ! The rush of years 
 
 Beats down their strength ; their numberless escapes 210 
 
 In ruin end : and now their proud success 
 
 But plants new terrors on the victor's brow : 
 
 What pain to quit the world just made their own, 
 
 Their nest so deeply down'd,* and built so high ! 
 
 Too low they build who build beneath the stars. 215 
 
 WOE then apart, (if woe apart can be 
 From mortal man,) and Fortune at our nod, 
 The gay, rich, great, triumphant, and august ! 
 What axe they 1 The most happy (strange to say !) 
 Convince me most of human misery : 220 
 
 What are they ? Smiling wretches of to-morrow ! 
 More wretched then than e'er their slave can be ; 
 Their treacherous blessings, at the day of need, 
 
 * This is the reading of the early quarto and octavo impressions ; but 
 in the collected Works of 1762 occurs the evident misprint of drown'd, 
 wlach has been perpetuated in subsequent editions. EDIT. 
 u 3
 
 222 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Like other faithless friends, unmask and sting : 
 
 Then, what provoking indigence in wealth ! 225 
 
 What aggravated impotence in power ! 
 
 High titles, then, what insult of their pain ! 
 
 If that sole anchor, equal to the waves, 
 
 Immortal Hope ! defies not the rude storm, 
 
 Takes comfort from the foaming billow's rage, 230 
 
 And makes a welcome harbour of the tomb. 
 
 Is this a sketch of what thy soul admires 1 
 
 " But here," thou say'st, " the miseries of life 
 
 Are huddled in a group. A more distinct 
 
 Survey, perhaps, might bring thee better news." 235 
 
 Look on life's stages : they speak plainer still ; 
 
 The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou sigh. 
 
 Look on thy lovely boy ; in him behold 
 
 The best that can befall the best on earth ; 
 
 The boy has virtue by his mother's side : 240 
 
 Yes, on FLORELLO look : a father's heart 
 
 Is tender, though the man's is made of stone : 
 
 The truth, through such a medium seen, may make 
 
 Impression deep, and Fondness prove thy friend. 
 
 FLORELLO, lately cast on this rude coast 245 
 
 A helpless infant ; now a heedless child ; 
 
 To poor CLARISSA'S throes, thy care succeeds : 
 
 Care full of love, and yet severe as hate ! 
 
 O'er thy soul's joy how oft thy fondness frowns ! 
 
 Needful austerities his will restrain ; 250 
 
 As thorns fence-in the tender plant from harm. 
 
 As yet, his reason cannot go alone ; 
 
 But asks a sterner nurse to lead it on. 
 
 His little heart is often terrified ; 
 
 The blush of morning in his cheek turns pale ; 255 
 
 Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye, 
 
 His harmless eye ! and drowns an angel there.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 223 
 
 Ah ! what avails his innocence ] The task 
 
 Enjoin'd must discipline his early powers ; 
 
 He learns to sigh ere he has known to sin ; 260 
 
 Guiltless, and sad ! a wretch before the fell ! 
 
 How cruel this ! more cruel to forbear. 
 
 Our nature such, with necessary pains 
 
 "We purchase prospects of precarious peace : 
 
 Though not a father, this might steal a sigh. 265 
 
 SUPPOSE him disciplined aright ; (if not, 
 
 'T will sink our poor account to poorer still ;) 
 
 Eipe from the tutor, proud of liberty, 
 
 He leaps enclosure, bounds into the world : 
 
 The world is taken, after ten years' toil, 270 
 
 Like ancient Troy ; and all its joys his own. 
 
 Alas ! the world 's a tutor more severe ; 
 
 Its lessons hard, and ill deserve his pains ; 
 
 Unteaching all his virtuous nature taught, 
 
 Or books (fair Virtue's advocates !) inspired. 275 
 
 FOR who receives him into public life ) 
 
 Men of the world, the terra-filial breed, 
 
 Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere, 
 
 (Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his sight,) 
 
 And in their hospitable arms enclose : 280 
 
 Men who think nought so strong of the romance, 
 
 So rank knight-errant, as a real friend : 
 
 Men that act up to Keason's golden rule, 
 
 All weakness of affection quite subdued : 
 
 Men that would blush at being thought sincere, 285 
 
 And feign, for glory, the few faults they want ; 
 
 That love a lie, where Truth would pay as well ; 
 
 As if, to them, Vice shone her own reward. 
 
 LORENZO ! canst thou bear a shocking sight ! 
 
 Such, for FLORELLO'S sake, 't will now appear : 290
 
 224 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGIIT VIII. 
 
 See the steel'd files of season'd veterans, 
 
 Train'd to the world, in burnish'd falsehood bright ; 
 
 Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace ; 
 
 All soft sensation in the throng rubb'd off; 
 
 All their keen purpose in politeness sheathed ; 295 
 
 His friends eternal during interest ; 
 
 His foes implacable when worth their while ; 
 
 At war with every welfare but their own ; 
 
 As wise as LUCIFER, and half as good ; 
 
 And by whom none but LUCIFER can gain : 300 
 
 Naked, through these, (so common Fate ordains,) 
 
 Naked of heart, his cruel course he runs, 
 
 Stung out of all most amiable in life, 
 
 Prompt truth, and open thought, and smiles unfeign'd ; 
 
 Affection, as his species, wide diffused ; 305 
 
 Noble presumptions to mankind's renown ; 
 
 Ingenuous trust, and confidence of love. 
 
 THESE claims to joy (if mortals joy might claim) 
 
 Will cost him many a sigh, till time, and pains, 
 
 From the slow mistress of this school, Experience, 310 
 
 And her assistant, pausing, pale Distrust, 
 
 Purchase a dear-bought clue to lead his youth 
 
 Through serpentine obliquities of life, 
 
 And the dark labyrinth of human hearts. 
 
 And happy if the clue shall come so cheap ! 315 
 
 For while we learn to fence with public guilt, 
 
 Full oft we feel its foul contagion too, 
 
 If less than heavenly Virtue is our guard. 
 
 Thus, a strange kind of cursed necessity 
 
 Brings down the sterling temper of his soul, 320 
 
 By base alloy, to bear the current stamp, 
 
 Below call'd Wisdom ; sinks him into safety ; 
 
 And brands him into credit with the world ; 
 
 Where specious titles dignify disgrace, 
 
 And Nature's injuries are arts of life ; 326
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 225 
 
 Where brighter Reason prompts to bolder crimes, 
 And heavenly talents make infernal hearts, 
 That unsurmountable extreme of guilt ! 
 
 POOR MACHIAVEL, who labour'd hard his plan, 
 
 Forgot that Genius needs not go to school ; 330 
 
 Forgot that man, without a tutor wise, 
 
 His plan had practised long before 't was writ. 
 
 The world 's all title-page, there 's no contents : 
 
 The world 's all face ; the man who shows his heart 
 
 Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. 335 
 
 A man I knew who lived upon a smile ; 
 
 And well it fed him ; he look'd plump and fair, 
 
 While rankest venom foam'd through every vein. 
 
 LORENZO ! what I tell thee, take not ill. 
 
 Living, he fawn'd on every fool alive ; 340 
 
 And, dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived. 
 
 To such proficients thou art half a saint. 
 
 In foreign realms, (for thou hast travell'd far,) 
 
 How curious to contemplate two state-rooks, 
 
 Studious their nests to feather in a trice, 345 
 
 With all the necromantics of their art, 
 
 Playing the game of faces on each other, 
 
 Making court-sweetmeats of their latent gall, 
 
 In foolish hope to steal each other's trust ; 
 
 Both cheating, both exulting, both deceived ; 350 
 
 And, sometimes, both (let earth rejoice) undone ! 
 
 Their parts we doubt not ; but be that their shame. 
 
 Shall men of talents, fit to rule mankind, 
 
 Stoop to mean wiles, that would disgrace a fool 1 
 
 And lose the thanks of those few friends they serve 1 355 
 
 For who can thank the man he cannot see ? 
 
 WHY so much cover ] It defeats itself. 
 
 Ye that know all things ! know ye not men's hearts 
 
 Are therefore known, because they are couceal'd 1
 
 226 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 For why conceal'd 1 The cause they need not tell. 360 
 
 I give him joy that 's awkward at a lie ; 
 
 Whose feeble nature Truth keeps still in awe : 
 
 His incapacity is his renown. 
 
 'T is great, 't is manly, to disdain disguise ; 
 
 It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. 365 
 
 Thou say'st 't is needful. Is it therefore right 1 
 
 Howe'er, I grant it some small sign of grace, 
 
 To strain at an excuse. And wouldst thou then 
 
 Escape that cruel need ] Thou mayst with ease : 
 
 Think no post needful that demands a knave. 370 
 
 When late our civil helm was shifting hands, 
 
 So P thought : think better, if you can. 
 
 BUT this, how rare ! The public path of life 
 
 Is dirty. Yet allow that dirt its due ; 
 
 It makes the noble mind more noble stilL 375 
 
 The world 's no neuter ; it will wound or save ; 
 
 Our virtue quench, or indignation fire. 
 
 You say, "The world, well-known, will make a man :" 
 
 The world, well-known, will give our hearts to Heaven, 
 
 Or make us demons long before we die. 380 
 
 To show how fair the world, thy mistress, shines, 
 
 Take either part, sure ills attend the choice : 
 
 Sure, though not equal, detriment ensues. 
 
 Not Virtue's self is deified on earth : 
 
 Virtue has her relapses, conflicts, foes ; 385 
 
 Foes that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. 
 
 Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 
 
 True, friends to virtue last and least complain : 
 
 But if they sigh, can others hope to smile 1 
 
 If Wisdom has her miseries to mourn, 390 
 
 How can poor Folly lead a happy life ? 
 
 And if both suffer, what has Earth to boast. 
 
 Where he most happy who the least laments'?
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 227 
 
 Where much, much patience, the most envied state ; 
 And some forgiveness needs the best of friends ] 395 
 
 For friend or happy life who looks not higher, 
 Of neither shall he find the shadow here. 
 
 THE world's sworn advocate, without a fee, 
 
 LORENZO smartly, with a smile, replies : 
 
 " Thus far thy song is right ; and all must own, 400 
 
 Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 
 
 And joys peculiar who to Vice denies, 
 
 If Vice it is with Nature to comply 1 
 
 If Pride and Sense are so predominant, 
 
 To check, not overcome, them makes a saint ; 405 
 
 Can Nature in a plainer voice proclaim 
 
 Pleasure and glory the chief good of man ] " 
 
 CAN Pride and Sensuality rejoice 1 
 
 From purity of thought all pleasure springs ; 
 
 And from an humble spirit, all our peace. 410 
 
 Ambition, pleasure ! let us talk of these : 
 
 Of these the POKCH and ACADEMY talk'd ; 
 
 Of these, each following age had much to say : 
 
 Yet unexhausted still the needful theme. 
 
 Who talks of these, to mankind all at once 415 
 
 He talks ; for where the saint from either free ? 
 
 Are these thy refuge ? No ; these rush upon thee, 
 
 Thy vitals seize, and, vulture-like, devour. 
 
 I '11 try if I can pluck thee from thy rock, 
 
 PROMETHEUS ! from this barren ball of earth : 420 
 
 If Reason can unchain thee, thou art free. 
 
 AND first, thy Caucasus, Ambition, calls : 
 
 Mountain of torments ! eminence of woes ! 
 
 Of courted woes ! and courted through mistake ! 
 
 J T is not Ambition charms thee : 't is a cheat 425 
 
 Will make thee start, as H at his Moor.
 
 228 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Dost grasp at greatness ? First, know what it is : 
 
 Think'st thou thy greatness in distinction lies 1 
 
 Not in the feather, wave it e'er so high, 
 
 By Fortune stuck, to mark us from the throng, 430 
 
 Is glory lodged : 't is lodged in the reverse ; 
 
 In that which joins, in that which equals, all, 
 
 The monarch and his slave ; " a deathless soul, 
 
 Unbounded prospect, and immortal kin, 
 
 A Father God, and brothers in the skies ; " 435 
 
 Elder, indeed, in time ; but less remote 
 
 In excellence, perhaps, than thought by man. 
 
 "Why greater what can fall, than what can rise ? 
 
 IF still delirious now, LORENZO ! go ; 
 
 And with thy full-blown brothers of the world, 440 
 
 Throw scorn around thee ; cast it on thy slaves ; 
 
 Thy slaves, and equals : how scorn cast on them 
 
 Eebounds on thee ! If man is mean, as man, 
 
 Art thou a god ] If Fortune makes him so, 
 
 Beware the consequence : a maxim that, 445 
 
 Which draws a monstrous picture of mankind, 
 
 Where, in the drapery, the man is lost ; 
 
 Externals fluttering, and the soul forgot : 
 
 Thy greatest glory when disposed to boast, 
 
 Boast that aloud in which thy servants share. 450 
 
 WE wisely strip the steed we mean to buy : 
 
 Judge we, in their caparisons, of men ? 
 
 It nought avails thee where, but what, thou art : 
 
 All the distinctions of this little life 
 
 Are quite cutaneous, foreign to the man ! 455 
 
 When through Death's straits Earth's subtle serpents creep, 
 
 Which wriggle into wealth, or climb renown, 
 
 As crooked Satan the forbidden tree, 
 
 They leave their party-colour'd robe behind, 
 
 All that now glitters, while they rear aloft 460
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 229 
 
 Their brasen crests, and hiss at us below. 
 
 Of Fortune's fucus strip them, yet alive ; 
 
 Strip them of body, too ; nay, closer still, 
 
 Away with all, but moral, in their miiids ; 
 
 And let what then remains impose their name, 465 
 
 Pronounce them weak, or worthy ! great, or mean ! 
 
 How mean that snuff of glory Fortune lights, 
 
 And Death puts out ! Dost thou demand a test 
 
 (A test at once infallible and short) 
 
 Of real greatness ? That man greatly lives, 470 
 
 Whate'er his fate or fame, who greatly dies ; 
 
 High-flush'd with hope where heroes shall despair. 
 
 If this a true criterion, many courts, 
 
 Illustrious, might afford but few grandees. 
 
 THE' Almighty, from His throne, on earth surveys 475 
 
 Nought greater than an honest humble heart ; 
 
 An humble heart, His residence ! pronounced 
 
 His second seat ; and rival to the skies. 
 
 The private path, the secret acts of men, 
 
 If noble, far the noblest of our lives ! 480 
 
 How far above LORENZO'S glory sits 
 
 The' illustrious master of a name unknown ; 
 
 Whose worth unrivall'd, and unwitness'd, loves 
 
 Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with men ; 
 
 And Peace, beyond the world's conceptions, smiles ! 485 
 
 As thou (now dark) before we part shalt see. 
 
 BUT thy great soul this skulking glory scorns. 
 LORENZO 's sick but when LORENZO 's seen ; 
 And, when he shrugs at public business, lies. 
 Denied the public eye, the public voice, 490 
 
 As if he lived on others' breath, he dies. 
 Fain would he make the world his pedestal ; 
 Mankind the gazers, the sole figure he. 
 Knows he that mankind praise against their will, 
 z
 
 230 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT Till. 
 
 And mix as much detraction as they can ? 495 
 
 Knows he that faithless Fame her whisper has, 
 
 As well as trumpet? that his vanity 
 
 Is so much tickled from not hearing all 1 
 
 Knows this all-knower that, from itch of praise, 
 
 Or from an itch more sordid, when he shines, 500 
 
 Taking his country by five hundred ears, 
 
 Senates at once admire him, and despise, 
 
 With modest laughter lining loud applause, 
 
 Which makes the smile more mortal to his fame 1 
 
 His fame, which, (like the mighty C.ESAR,) crown'd 505 
 
 With laurels, in full senate, greatly falls, 
 
 By seeming friends that honour, and destroy. 
 
 We rise in glory as we sink in pride ; 
 
 Where boasting ends, there dignity begins ; 
 
 And yet, mistaken beyond all mistake, 510 
 
 The blind LORENZO 's proud- of being proud ; 
 
 And dreams himself ascending in his fall. 
 
 AN eminence, though fancied, turns the brain ; 
 
 All vice wants hellebore ; but of all vice 
 
 Pride loudest calls, and for the largest bowl ; 515 
 
 Because, all other vice unlike, it flies, 
 
 In fact, the point in fancy most pursued. 
 
 Who court applause, oblige the world in this : 
 
 They gratify man's passion to refuse. 
 
 Superior honour, when assumed, is lost ; 520 
 
 E'en good men turn banditti, and rejoice, 
 
 Like KOULI KHAN, in plunder of the proud. 
 
 THOUGH somewhat disconcerted, steady still 
 
 To the world's cause, with half a face of joy, 
 
 LORENZO cries, " Be, then, Ambition cast ; 525 
 
 Ambition's dearer far stands unimpeach'd, 
 
 Gay Pleasure ! Proud Ambition is her slave ; 
 
 For her he soars at great, and hazards ill ;
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 231 
 
 For her he fights, and bleeds or overcomes ; 
 
 And paves his way with crowns to reach her smile : 530 
 
 Who can resist her charms ? " Or, should ? LORENZO ! 
 
 What mortal shall resist, where angels yield ? 
 
 Pleasure 's the mistress of ethereal powers ; 
 
 For her contend the rival gods above ; 
 
 Pleasure 's the mistress of the world below. 535 
 
 And well it is for man that Pleasure charms : 
 
 How would all stagnate, but for Pleasure's ray ! 
 
 How would the frozen stream of action cease ! 
 
 What is the pulse of this so busy world ] 
 
 The love of Pleasure : that, through every vein, 540 
 
 Throws motion, warmth ; and shuts out death from life. 
 
 THOUGH various are the tempers of mankind, 
 Pleasure's gay family hold all in chains : 
 Some most affect the black, and some the fair : 
 Some honest pleasure court, and some obscene. 545 
 
 Pleasures obscene are various, as the throng 
 Of passions that can err in human hearts ; 
 Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds. 
 Think you there 's but one whoredom ? Whoredom all, 
 But when our Reason licenses delight. 550 
 
 Dost doubt, LORENZO ? Thou shalt doubt no more. 
 Thy father chides thy gallantries ; yet hugs 
 An ugly common harlot in the dark ; 
 A rank adulterer with others' gold : 
 
 And that hag, Vengeance, in a corner, charms. 555 
 
 Hatred her brothel has, as well as Love, 
 Where horrid epicures debauch in blood. 
 Whate'er the motive, Pleasure is the mark ! 
 For her the black assassin draws his sword ; 
 For her dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, 560 
 To which no single sacrifice may fall ; 
 For her the saint abstains, the miser starves j 
 The Stoic proud, for pleasure, pleasure scorn'd ; 
 x 2
 
 232 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 For her Affliction's daughters grief indulge, 
 
 And find, or hope, a luxury in tears ; 5G5 
 
 For her, guilt, shame, toil, danger we defy ; 
 
 And, with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. 
 
 Thus universal her despotic power. 
 
 AND as her empire wide, her praise is just. 
 
 Patron of pleasure, doter on delight! 570 
 
 I am thy rival ; pleasure I profess ; 
 
 Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. 
 
 Pleasure is nought but Virtue's gayer name : 
 
 I wrong her still, I rate her worth too low : 
 
 Virtue the root, and Pleasure is the flower ; 575 
 
 And honest EPICURUS' foes were fools. 
 
 Bur this sounds harsh, and gives the wise offence ; 
 
 If o'erstrain'd wisdom still retains the name. 
 
 How knits Austerity her cloudy brow, 
 
 And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praise 580 
 
 Of Pleasure to mankind, unpraised too dear ! 
 
 Ye modern Stoics ! hear my soft reply : 
 
 Their senses men will trust ; we can't impose ; 
 
 Or if we could, is imposition right 1 
 
 Own honey sweet, but, owning, add this sting, 585 
 
 " When mix'd with poison, it is deadly too." 
 
 Truth never was indebted to a lie. 
 
 Is nought but Virtue to be praised as good 1 
 
 Why then is health preferr'd before disease ? 
 
 What Nature loves is good, without our leave. 590 
 
 And where no future drawback cries, " Beware ! " 
 
 Pleasure, though not from Virtue, should prevail. 
 
 'T is balm to life, and gratitude to Heaven : 
 
 How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd ! 
 
 The Love of Pleasure is man's eldest-born, 595 
 
 Born in his cradle, living to his tomb. 
 
 Wisdom, her younger sister, though more grave,
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 233 
 
 Was meant to minister, and not to mar 
 Imperial Pleasure, queen of human hearts. 
 
 LORENZO, thou, Her Majesty's renown'd 600 
 
 (Though uncoif 'd) counsel, learned in the world, 
 
 Who think'st thyself a MURRAY, with disdain 
 
 Mayst look on me. Yet, my DEMOSTHENES, 
 
 Canst thou plead Pleasure's cause as well as 1 1 
 
 Know'st thou her " nature, purpose, parentage ? " 605 
 
 Attend my song, and thou shalt know them all ; 
 
 And know thyself; and know thyself to be 
 
 (Strange truth !) the most abstemious man alive. 
 
 Tell not CALISTA ! she will laugh thee dead ; 
 
 Or send thee to her hermitage with L . 610 
 
 Absurd presumption ! Thou who never knew'st 
 
 A serious thought, shalt thou dare dream of joy? 
 
 No man e'er found a happy life by chance, 
 
 Or yawn'd it into being with a wish ; 
 
 Or, with the snout of grovelling Appetite, 615 
 
 E'er smelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. 
 
 An art it is, and must be learn'd ; and learn'd 
 
 With unremitting effort, or be lost, 
 
 And leave us perfect blockheads in our bliss. 
 
 The clouds may drop down titles and estates ; 620 
 
 Wealth may seek us ; but Wisdom must be sought ; 
 
 Sought before all ; but (how unlike all else 
 
 We seek on earth !) 't is never sought in vain. 
 
 FIRST, Pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and grandeur see : 
 Brought forth by Wisdom, nursed by Discipline, 625 
 
 By Patience taught, by Perseverance crown'd, 
 She rears her head majestic ; round her throne, 
 Erected in the bosom of the just, 
 Each Virtue, listed, forms her manly guard. 
 For what are Virtues 1 (formidable name !) 630 
 
 What but the fountain or defence of joy 1 
 x 3
 
 234 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Why then commanded ] Need mankind commands 
 
 At once to merit and to make their bliss ] 
 
 Great Legislator, scarce so great as kind ! 
 
 If men are rational, and love delight, 635 
 
 Thy gracious law but flatters human choice ; 
 
 In the transgression lies the penalty ; 
 
 And they the most indulge who most obey. 
 
 OP Pleasure next the final cause explore ; 
 
 Its mighty purpose, its important end. 640 
 
 Not to turn human brutal, but to build 
 
 Divine on human, Pleasure came from heaven. 
 
 In aid to Reason was the goddess sent ; 
 
 To call up all its strength by such a charm. 
 
 Pleasure first succours Virtue ; in return, 645 
 
 Virtue gives Pleasure an eternal reign. 
 
 What but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith, 
 
 Supports life natural, civil, and Divine 1 
 
 'T is from the pleasure of repast we live ; 
 
 *T is from the pleasure of applause we please ; 650 
 
 'T is from the pleasure of belief we pray : 
 
 (All prayer would cease, if unbelieved the prize :) 
 
 It serves ourselves, our species, and our God ; 
 
 And to serve more, is past the sphere of man. 
 
 Glide, then, for ever, Pleasure's sacred stream ! 655 
 
 Through Eden, as Euphrates ran, it runs, 
 
 And fosters every growth of happy life ; 
 
 Makes a new Eden where it flows ; but such 
 
 As must be lost, LORENZO, by thy fall. 
 
 " WHAT mean I by thy fall V Thou It shortly see, 660 
 
 While Pleasure's nature is at large display'd ; 
 
 Already sung her origin and ends. 
 
 Those glorious ends, by kind, or by degree, 
 
 When Pleasure violates, 't is then a vice, 
 
 And vengeance too ; it hastens into pain. 665
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 235 
 
 From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy ; 
 
 From wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death : 
 
 Heaven's justice this proclaims, and that her love. 
 
 What greater evil can I wish my foe, 
 
 Than his full draught of pleasure, from a cask 670 
 
 Unbroach'd by just Authority, ungauged 
 
 By Temperance, by Eeason unrefined ? 
 
 A thousand demons lurk within the lee. 
 
 Heaven, others, and ourselves ! uninjured these, 
 
 Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more Divine ; 675 
 
 Angels are angels from indulgence there ; 
 
 T is unrepenting Pleasure makes a god. 
 
 DOST think thyself a god from other joys 1 
 
 A victim rather ! shortly sure to bleed. 
 
 The wrong must mourn : can Heaven's appointments fail 1 
 
 Can man outwit Omnipotence ? strike out 681 
 
 A self-wrought happiness unmeant by Him 
 
 Who made us, and the world we would enjoy? 
 
 Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence 
 
 Its dissonance or harmony shall rise. 685 
 
 Heaven bade the soul this mortal frame inspire ; 
 
 Bade Virtue's ray Divine inspire the soul 
 
 With unprecarious flows of vital joy ; 
 
 And, without breathing, man as well might hope 
 
 For life, as, without piety, for peace. 690 
 
 " Is Virtue, then, and Piety the same 1" 
 
 No ; Piety is more ; 't is Virtue's source ; 
 
 Mother of every worth, as that of joy. 
 
 Men of the world this doctrine ill digest ; 
 
 They smile at Piety ; yet boast aloud 695 
 
 Good-will to men ; nor know they strive to part 
 
 What Nature joins ; and thus confute themselves. 
 
 With Piety begins all good on earth : 
 
 'T is the first-born of Rationality.
 
 236 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies ; 700 
 
 Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; 
 
 A feign'd affection bounds her utmost power. 
 
 Some we can't love but for the' Almighty's sake : 
 
 A foe to GOD was ne'er true friend to man ; 
 
 Some sinister intent taints all he does ; 705 
 
 And in his kindest actions he 'a unkind. 
 
 ON piety humanity is built ; 
 
 And on humanity much happiness : 
 
 And yet still more on piety itself. 
 
 A soul in commerce with her GOD is heaven ; 710 
 
 Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life ; 
 
 The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart. 
 
 A Deity believed, is joy begun ; 
 
 A Deity adored, is joy advanced ; 
 
 A Deity beloved, is joy matured. 715 
 
 Each branch of piety delight inspires ; 
 
 Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, 
 
 O'er Death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides ; 
 
 Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy, 
 
 That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still ; 720 
 
 Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream 
 
 Of glory on the consecrated hour 
 
 Of man, in audience with the Deity. 
 
 Who worships the great God, that instant joins 
 
 The first in heaven, and sets his foot on hell. 725 
 
 LORENZO, when wast thou at church before '! 
 
 Thou think 'st the service long; but is it just 1 ? 
 
 Though just, unwelcome; thou hadst rather tread 
 
 Unhallow'd ground ; the Muse, to win thine ear, 
 
 Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 730 
 
 Good conscience! at the sound the world retires : 
 
 Verse disaffeets it, and LORENZO smiles ; 
 
 Yet has she her seraglio full of charms ;
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOOY. 237 
 
 And such as age shall heighten, not impair. 
 
 Art thou dejected ? Is thy mind o'ercast 1 735 
 
 Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest choose, 
 
 Thy gloom to chase. " Go, fix some weighty truth ; 
 
 Chain down some passion ; do some generous good ; 
 
 Teach Ignorance to see, or Grief to smile ; 
 
 Correct thy friend ; befriend thy greatest foe ; 740 
 
 Or, with warm heart, and confidence Divine, 
 
 Spring up, and lay strong hold on Him who made thee." 
 
 Thy gloom is scatter'd, sprightly spirits flow, 
 
 Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung. 
 
 DOST call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, 745 
 
 Loud mirth, mad laughter ? Wretched comforters ! 
 
 Physicians, more than half of thy disease ! 
 
 Laughter, though never censured yet as sin, 
 
 (Pardon a thought that only seems severe,) 
 
 Is half-immoral : is it much indulged ] 750 
 
 By venting spleen, or dissipating thought, 
 
 It shows a scorner, or it makes a fool ; 
 
 And sins, as hurting others or ourselves. 
 
 'T is Pride, or Emptiness, applies the straw 
 
 That tickles little minds to mirth effuse ; 755 
 
 Of grief approaching, the portentous sign ! * 
 
 The house of laughter makes a house of woe. 
 
 A man triumphant is a monstrous sight ; 
 
 A man dejected is a sight as mean. 
 
 "What cause for triumph where such ills abound ? 760 
 
 What for dejection, where presides a Power 
 
 Who call'd us into being to be bless'd ? 
 
 So grieve, as conscious grief may rise to joy ; 
 
 So joy, as conscious joy to grief may fall. 
 
 Most true, a wise man never will be sad : 765 
 
 * In the quarto and octavo impressions the reading of this line is, 
 " Of grief as impotent, portentous sign." EDIT.
 
 238 RIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth 
 A shallow stream of happiness betray : 
 Too happy to be sportive, he 's serene. 
 
 YET wouldst thou laugh, (but at thy own expense,) 
 
 This counsel strange should I presume to give : 770 
 
 " Retire, and read thy Bible, to be gay." 
 
 There truths abound of sovereign aid to peace ; 
 
 Ah ! do not prize them less because inspired, 
 
 As thou and thine are apt and proud to do. 
 
 If not inspired, that pregnant page had stood 775 
 
 Time's treasure, and the wonder of the wise ! 
 
 Thou think'st, perhaps, thy soul alone at stake ; 
 
 Alas ! should men mistake thee for a fool, 
 
 What man of taste for genius, wisdom, truth, 
 
 Though tender of thy fame, could interpose ] 780 
 
 Believe me, Sense here acts a double part, 
 
 And the true critic is a Christian too. 
 
 Bur these, thon think'st, are gloomy paths to joy. 
 
 True joy in sunshine ne'er was found at first. 
 
 They first themselves offend, who greatly please; 785 
 
 And travail only gives us sound repose. 
 
 Heaven sells all pleasure ; effort is the price ; 
 
 The joys of conquest are the joys of man ; 
 
 A ad Glory the victorious laurel spreads 
 
 O'er Pleasure's pure, perpetual, placid stream. 790 
 
 THERE is a time when toil must be preferr'd, 
 
 Or Joy, by mis-timed fondness, is undone. 
 
 A man of pleasure is a man of pains. 
 
 Thou wilt not take the trouble to be bless'd. 
 
 False joys, indeed, are born from want of thought ; 795 
 
 From thought's full bent and energy, the true ; 
 
 And that demands a mind in equal poise, 
 
 Remote from gloomy grief and glaring joy.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 239 
 
 Much joy not only speaks small happiness, 
 
 But happiness that shortly must expire. 800 
 
 Can joy, unbottom'd in reflection, stand] 
 
 And in a tempest can reflection live 1 
 
 Can joy like thine secure itself an hour ? 
 
 Can joy like thine meet accident unshock'd ] 
 
 Or ope the door to honest Poverty ? 805 
 
 Or talk with threatening Death, and not turn pale 1 
 
 In such a world, and such a nature, these 
 
 Are needful fundamentals of delight : 
 
 These fundamentals give delight indeed ; 
 
 Delight, pure, delicate, and durable ; 810 
 
 Delight, unshaken, masculine, Divine ; 
 
 A constant and a sound, but serious, joy. 
 
 " Is Joy the daughter of Severity 1 " 
 
 It is : yet far my doctrine from severe. 
 
 " Kejoice for ever !" it becomes a man ; 815 
 
 Exalts, and sets him nearer to the gods. 
 
 " Rejoice for ever," Nature cries, " rejoice ! " 
 
 And drinks to man in her nectareous cup, 
 
 Mix'd up of delicates for every sense ; 
 
 To the great Founder of the bounteous feast 820 
 
 Drinks glory, gratitude, eternal praise ; 
 
 And he that will not pledge her is a churl. 
 
 Ill firmly to support, good fully taste, 
 
 Is the whole science of felicity. 
 
 Yet sparing pledge : her bowl is not the best 825 
 
 Mankind can boast. " A rational repast ; 
 
 Exertion, vigilance, a mind in arms, 
 
 A military discipline of thought, 
 
 To foil Temptation in the doubtful field ; 
 
 And ever- waking ardour for the right :" 830 
 
 'T is these first give, then guard, a cheerful heart. 
 
 Nought that is right think little ; well aware, 
 
 What Reason bids, GOD bids ; by His command
 
 240 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 How aggrandized the smallest thing we do ! 
 
 Thus nothing is insipid to the wise : 835 
 
 To thee insipid all but what is mad ; 
 
 Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt. 
 
 " MAD ! " (thou repliest, with indignation fired :) 
 
 " Of ancient sages proud to tread the steps, 
 
 I follow Nature." Follow Nature still, 840 
 
 But look it he thine own : is Conscience then 
 
 No part of Nature 1 Is she not supreme ? 
 
 Thou regicide ! raise her from the dead ! 
 
 Then follow Nature, and resemble GOD. 
 
 WHEN, spite of Conscience, Pleasure is pursued, 845 
 
 Man's nature is unnaturally pleased : 
 
 And what 's unnatural is painful too 
 
 At intervals, and must disgust e'en thee ! 
 
 The fact thou know'st, but not perhaps the cause. 
 
 Virtue's foundations with the world's were laid ; 850 
 
 Heaven mix'd her with our make, and twisted close 
 
 Her sacred interests with the strings of life. 
 
 Who breaks her awful mandate, shocks himself, 
 
 His better self : and is it greater pain, 
 
 Our soul should murmur, or our dust repine 1 855 
 
 And one, in their eternal war, must bleed. 
 
 IF one must suffer, which should least be spared 1 
 
 The pains of mind surpass the pains of sense : 
 
 Ask, then, the Gout, what torment is in guilt. 
 
 The joys of sense to mental joys are mean : 860 
 
 Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul 
 
 On past and future forages for joy. 
 
 'T is hers, by retrospect, through time to range ; 
 
 And, forward, Time's great sequel to survey. 
 
 Could human courts take vengeance on the mind, 865
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 241 
 
 Axes might rust, and racks and gibbets fall : 
 Guard then thy mind, and leave the rest to fate. 
 
 LORENZO, wilt thou never be a man ] 
 
 The man is dead, who for the body lives, 
 
 Lured, by the beating of his pulse, to list 870 
 
 With every lust that wars against his peace ; 
 
 And sets him quite at variance with himself. 
 
 Thyself first know, then love : a self there is 
 
 Of Virtue fond, that kindles at her charms. 
 
 A self there is, as fond of every vice, 875 
 
 While every virtue wounds it to the heart ! 
 
 Humility degrades it, Justice robs, 
 
 Bless'd Bounty beggars it, fair Truth betrays, 
 
 And godlike Magnanimity destroys. 
 
 This self, when rival to the former, scorn ; 880 
 
 When not in competition, kindly treat, 
 
 Defend it, feed it : but when Virtue bids, 
 
 Toss it or to the fowls, or to the flames. 
 
 And why ? 'T is Love of Pleasure bids thee bleed ; 
 
 Comply, or own Self-Love extinct, or blind. 885 
 
 FOR what is Vice ? Self-Love in a mistake : 
 
 A poor blind merchant buying joys too dear. 
 
 And Virtue, what ] 'T is Self-Love in her wits, 
 
 Quite skilful in the market of Delight. 
 
 Self-Love's good sense is love of that dread Power, 890 
 
 From whom herself, and all she can enjoy. 
 
 Other Self-Love is but disguised Self-Hate ; 
 
 More mortal than the malice of our foes ; 
 
 A Self-Hate now scarce felt ; then felt full sore, 
 
 When Being cursed, Extinction loud implored, 895 
 
 And every thing preferr'd to what we are. 
 
 YET this Self-Love LORENZO makes his choice ; 
 And, in this choice triumphant, boasts of joy. 
 How is his want of happiness betray'd,
 
 242 NIOHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 By disaffection to the present hour ! 900 
 
 Imagination wanders far afield : 
 
 The future pleases : why 1 The present pains. 
 
 " But that 's a secret." Yes, which all men know ; 
 
 And know from thee, discover'd unawares. 
 
 Thy ceaseless agitation, restless roll 905 
 
 From cheat to cheat, impatient of a pause ; 
 
 What is itl-=-'T is the cradle of the Soul, 
 
 From Instinct sent, to rock her in disease, 
 
 Which her physician, Reason, will not cure. 
 
 A poor expedient ! yet thy best ; and while 910 
 
 It mitigates thy pain, it owns it too. 
 
 SUCH are LORENZO'S wretched remedies ! 
 
 The weak have remedies; the wise have joys. 
 
 Superior wisdom is superior bliss. 
 
 And what sure mark distinguishes the wise 1 915 
 
 Consistent Wisdom ever wills the same ; 
 
 Thy fickle wish is ever on the wing. 
 
 Sick of herself, is Folly's character ; 
 
 As Wisdom's is, a modest self-applause. 
 
 A change of evils is thy good supreme ; 920 
 
 Nor, but in motion, canst thou find thy rest. 
 
 Man's greatest strength is shown in standing still. 
 
 The first sure symptom of a mind in health 
 
 Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 
 
 False Pleasure from abroad her joys imports ; 925 
 
 Rich from within, and self-sustain'd, the true. 
 
 The true is fix'd, and solid as a rock ; 
 
 Slippery the false, and tossing as the wave. 
 
 This, a wild wanderer on earth, like CAIN : 
 
 That, like the fabled self-enamour'd boy, 930 
 
 Home-contemplation her supreme delight ; 
 
 She dreads an interruption from without, 
 
 Smit with her own condition ; and the more 
 
 Intense she gazes, still it charms the more.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 243 
 
 No man is happy till he thinks on earth 935 
 
 There breathes not a more happy than himself 
 
 Then Envy dies, and Love o'erflows on all ; 
 
 And Love o'erflowing makes an angel here. 
 
 Such angels all, entitled to repose 
 
 On Him who governs fate : though Tempest frowns, 940 
 
 Though Nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heaven ! 
 
 To lean on Him on whom archangels lean ! 
 
 With inward eyes, and silent as the grave, 
 
 They stand collecting every beam of thought, 
 
 Till their hearts kindle with Divine delight ; 945 
 
 For all their thoughts, like angels seen of old 
 
 In ISRAEL'S dream, come from, and go to, heaven : 
 
 Hence are they studious of sequestered scenes ; 
 
 While noise and dissipation comfort thee. 
 
 WERE all men happy, revellings would cease, 950 
 
 That opiate for inquietude within. 
 
 LORENZO ! never man was truly bless'd, 
 
 But it composed, and gave him such a cast, 
 
 As Folly might mistake for want of joy : 
 
 A cast unlike the triumph of the proud ; 955 
 
 A modest aspect, and a smile at heart. 
 
 for a joy from thy PHILANDER'S spring ! 
 
 A spring perennial, rising in the breast, 
 
 And permanent as pure ! no turbid stream 
 
 Of rapturous exultation, swelling high ; 960 
 
 Which, like land-floods, impetuous pour awhile, 
 
 Then sink at once, and leave us in the mire. 
 
 What does the man who transient joy prefers! 
 
 What, but prefer the bubbles to the stream 1 
 
 YAIN are all sudden sallies of delight ; 965 
 
 Convulsions of a weak, distemper'd joy : 
 Joy 's a fix'd state ; a tenure, not a start. 
 Bliss there is none, but unprecarious bliss : 
 T 2
 
 244 
 
 That is the gem : sell all, and purchase that. 
 
 Why go a-begging to contingencies, 970 
 
 Not gain'd with ease, nor safely loved, if gain'd 1 
 
 At good fortuitous, draw back, and pause ; 
 
 Suspect it ; what thou canst insure, enjoy; 
 
 And nought but what thou givest thyself is sure. 
 
 Reason perpetuates joy that Reason gives, 975 
 
 And makes it as immortal as herself : 
 
 To mortals, nought immortal but their worth. 
 
 WORTH, conscious Worth, should absolutely reign, 
 
 And other Joys ask leave for their approach ; 
 
 Nor, unexamined, ever leave obtain. 980 
 
 Thou art all anarchy ; a mob of Joys 
 
 Wage war, and perish in intestine broils ; 
 
 Not the least promise of internal peace ! 
 
 No bosom-comfort, or unborrow'd bliss ! 
 
 Thy Thoughts are vagabonds ; all outward-bound, 985 
 
 Mid sands, and rocks, and storms, to cruise for pleasure j 
 
 If gain'd, dear-bought ; and better miss'd than gain'd. 
 
 Much pain must expiate what much pain procured. 
 
 Fancy and Sense from an infected shore 
 
 Thy cargo bring ; and pestilence the prize. 990 
 
 Then, such thy thirst, (insatiable thirst ! 
 
 By fond indulgence but inflamed the more !) 
 
 Fancy still cruises when poor Sense is tired. 
 
 IMAGINATION is the Paphian shop, 
 
 Where feeble Happiness, like VULCAN, lame, 995 
 
 Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess, 
 
 And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) 
 
 With wanton art, those fatal arrows form 
 
 Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame. 
 
 Wouldst thou receive them, other Thoughts there are, 1000 
 
 On angel-wing, descending from above, 
 
 Which these, with art Divine, would counterwork, 
 
 And form celestial armour for thy peace.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 245 
 
 IN this is seen Imagination's guilt ; 
 
 But who can count her follies ? She betrays thee 1005 
 
 To think in grandeur there is something great. 
 
 For works of curious art, and ancient fame, 
 
 Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd ; 
 
 And foreign climes must cater for thy taste. 
 
 Hence, what disaster ! Though the price was paid, 1010 
 
 That persecuting priest, the Turk of Rome, 
 
 Whose foot, (ye gods !) though cloven, must be kiss'd, 
 
 Detain'd thy dinner on the Latian shore ; 
 
 (Such is the fate of honest Protestants !) 
 
 And poor Magnificence is starved to death. 1015 
 
 Hence just resentment, indignation, ire ! 
 
 Be pacified : if outward things are great, 
 
 'T is magnanimity great things to scorn ; 
 
 Pompous expenses, and parades august, 
 
 And courts, that insalubrious soil to peace ! 1020 
 
 True happiness ne'er enter'd at an eye ; 
 
 True happiness resides in things unseen. 
 
 No smiles of Fortune ever bless'd the bad, 
 
 Nor can her frowns rob Innocence of joys ; 
 
 That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor : 1025 
 
 So tell His Holiness, and be revenged. 
 
 PLEASURE, we both agree, is man's chief good ; 
 Our only contest, what deserves the name. 
 Give Pleasure's name to nought but what has pass'd 
 The' authentic seal of Eeason, (which, like YORKE. 1030 
 Demurs on what it passes,) and defies 
 The tooth of Time ; when pass'd, a pleasure still ; 
 Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age, 
 And doubly to be prized, as it promotes 
 Our future, while it forms our present, joy. 1035 
 
 Some joys the future overcast ; and some 
 Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb. 
 Some joys endear eternity ; some give 
 T 3
 
 246 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Abhorr'd annihilation dreadful charms. 
 
 Are rival joys contending for thy choice 1 1040 
 
 Consult thy whole existence, and be safe ; 
 
 That oracle will put all doubt to flight. 
 
 Short is the lesson, though my lecture long : 
 
 "Be good" and let Heaven answer for the rest. 
 
 YET, with a sigh o'er all mankind, I grant, 1045 
 
 In this our day of proof, our land of hope, 
 
 The good man has his clouds that intervene ; 
 
 Clouds, that obscure his sublunary day, 
 
 But never conquer : e'en the best must own, 
 
 Patience and Resignation are the pillars 1050 
 
 Of human Peace on earth. The pillars, these : 
 
 But those of SETH not more remote from thee, 
 
 Till this heroic lesson thou hast learn'd, 
 
 To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain. 
 
 Fired at the prospect of unclouded bliss, 1055 
 
 Heaven in reversion, like the sun, as yet 
 
 Beneath the' horizon, cheers us in this world ; 
 
 It sheds, on souls susceptible of light, 
 
 The glorious dawn of our eternal day. 
 
 " THIS," says LORENZO, " is a fair harangue : 1060 
 
 But can harangues blow back strong Nature's stream ; 
 Or stem the tide Heaven pushes through our veins, 
 Which sweeps away man's impotent resolves, 
 And lays his labour level with the world V 
 
 THEMSELVES men make their comment on mankind ; 1065 
 And think nought is but what they find at home : 
 Thus weakness to chimera turns the truth.* 
 Nothing romantic has the Muse prescribed. 
 
 * In the early quarto impressions, the reading of this line is, 
 " Thus, weakness to chimeras turns the wise." EDIT.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOOT. 247 
 
 Above,* LORKNZO saw the man of earth, 
 
 The mortal man ; and wretched was the sight. 1070 
 
 To balance that, to comfort and exalt, 
 
 Now see the man immortal : him, I mean, 
 
 Who lives as such ; whose heart, full-bent on heaven, 
 
 Leans all that way, his bias to the stars. 
 
 The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise 1075 
 
 His lustre more, though bright without a foil. 
 
 Observe his awful portrait, and admire ; 
 
 Nor stop at wonder ; imitate, and live. 
 
 SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw, 
 
 What nothing less than angel can exceed, 1080 
 
 A man on earth devoted to the Skies, 
 
 Like ships in seas, while in, above, the world ! 
 
 WITH aspect mild, and elevated eye, 
 
 Behold him seated on a mount serene, 
 
 Above the fogs of Sense, and Passion's storm : 1085 
 
 All the black cares and tumults of this life, 
 
 Like harmless thunders breaking at his feet, 
 
 Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
 
 Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave, 
 
 A mingled mob, a wandering herd, he sees, 1090 
 
 Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike ! 
 
 His full reverse in all ! What higher praise 1 
 
 What stronger demonstration of the right] 
 
 THE present all their care ; the future his. 
 
 When public welfare calls, or private want, 1095 
 
 They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
 
 Their virtues varnish nature ; his exalt. 
 
 Mankind's esteem they court ; and he his own. 
 
 Theirs the wild chase of false felicities ; 
 
 * In a former Night.
 
 248 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 His the composed possession of the true. 1100 
 
 Alike throughout is his consistent peace, 
 
 All of one colour, and an even thread ; 
 
 While party-colour'd shreds of happiness, 
 
 With hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
 
 A madman's robe ; each puff of Fortune blows 1105 
 
 The tatters by, and shows their nakedness. 
 
 HE sees with other eyes than theirs : where they 
 
 Behold a sun, he spies a Deity ; 
 
 What makes them only smile, makes him adore ; 
 
 Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees; 1110 
 
 An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
 
 They things terrestrial worship as Divine ; 
 
 His hopes immortal blow them by as dust, 
 
 That dims his sight, and shortens his survey, 
 
 Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 1115 
 
 Titles and honours (if they prove his fate) 
 
 He lays aside to find his dignity ; 
 
 No dignity they find in aught besides. 
 
 They triumph in externals, (which conceal 
 
 Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse. 1120 
 
 Himself too much he prizes to be proud, 
 
 And nothing thinks so great in man as MAN. 
 
 Too dear he holds his interest, to neglect 
 
 Another's welfare, or his right invade ; 
 
 Their interest, like a lion, lives on prey. 1125 
 
 They kindle at the shadow of a wrong : 
 
 Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on Heaven, 
 
 Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe ; 
 
 Nought but what wounds his virtue wounds his peace. 
 
 A cover'd heart their character defends : 1130 
 
 A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 
 
 With nakedness his innocence agrees ; 
 
 While their broad foliage testifies their fall. 
 
 Their no-joys end where his full feast begins ;
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOQT. 249 
 
 His joys create, theirs murder, future bliss. 1135 
 
 To triumph in existence, his alone ; 
 
 And his alone, triumphantly to think 
 
 His true existence is not yet begun. 
 
 His glorious course was, yesterday, complete : 
 
 Death then was welcome; yet life still is sweet. 1140 
 
 BUT nothing charms LORENZO like the firm, 
 
 Undaunted breast. And whose is that high praise 1 
 
 They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, 
 
 And show no fortitude but in the field ; 
 
 If there they show it, 't is for glory shown : 1145 
 
 Nor will that cordial always man their hearts. 
 
 A cordial his sustains that cannot fail : 
 
 By pleasure unsubdued, unbroke by pain, 
 
 He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts ; 
 
 All-bearing, all-attempting, till he falls; 1150 
 
 And, when he falls, writes VICI on his shield : 
 
 From magnanimity, all fear above ; 
 
 From nobler recompence, above applause, 
 
 Which owes to man's short out-look all its charms. 
 
 BACKWARD to credit what he never felt, 1155 
 
 LORENZO cries, " Where shines this miracle 1 
 From what root rises this immortal man?" 
 A root that grows not in LORENZO'S ground : 
 The root dissect, nor wonder at the flower. 
 
 HE follows nature, (not like thee ! *) and shows us 1160 
 
 An uninverted system of a man. 
 
 His appetite wears Reason's golden chain, 
 
 And finds in due restraint its luxury. 
 
 His passion, like an eagle well reclaim'd, 
 
 Is taught to fly at nought but infinite. 1 165 
 
 * See page 240, line 840.
 
 250 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII. 
 
 Patient his hope, unanxious is his care, 
 
 His caution fearless, and his grief (if grief 
 
 The gods ordain) a stranger to despair. 
 
 And why ? Because affection, more than meet, 
 
 His wisdom leaves not disengaged from Heaven. 1170 
 
 Those secondary goods that smile on earth, 
 
 He, loving in proportion, loves in peace. 
 
 They most the world enjoy, who least admire. 
 
 His understanding 'scapes the common cloud 
 
 Of fumes arising from a boiling breast. 1175 
 
 His head is clear, because his heart is cool, 
 
 By worldly competitions umnflamed. 
 
 The moderate movements of his soul admit 
 
 Distinct ideas, and matured debate, 
 
 An eye impartial, and an even scale : 1180 
 
 Whence judgment sound, and unrepenting choice. 
 
 Thus, in a double sense, the good are wise ; 
 
 On its own dunghill, wiser than the world. 
 
 What then the world 1 It must be doubly weak ; 
 
 Strange truth ! as soon would they believe the Creed. 
 
 YET thus it is ; nor otherwise can be ; 1186 
 
 So far from aught romantic what I sing. 
 
 Bliss has no being, Virtue has no strength, 
 
 But from the prospect of immortal life. 
 
 Who think earth all, or (what weighs just the same) 1190 
 
 Who care no farther, must prize what it yields ; 
 
 Fond of its fancies, proud of its parades. 
 
 Who thinks earth nothing, can't its charms admire ; 
 
 He can't a foe, though most malignant, hate, 
 
 Because that hate would prove his greater foe. 1195 
 
 'T is hard for them (yet who so loudly boast 
 
 Good-will to men ?) to love their dearest friend ; 
 
 For may not he invade their good supreme, 
 
 Where the least jealousy turns love to gall ? 
 
 All shines to tJiem, that for a season shines. 1200
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 251 
 
 Each act, each thought, he questions, " What its weight, 
 
 Its colour what, a thousand ages hence 1" 
 
 And what it there appears, he deems it now. 
 
 Hence, pure are* the recesses of his soul ; 
 
 The god-like man has nothing to conceal. 1205 
 
 His virtue, constitutionally deep, 
 
 Has Habit's firmness, and Affection's flame ; 
 
 Angels, allied, descend to feed the fire ; 
 
 And Death, which others slays, makes him a god. 
 
 AND now, LORENZO, bigot of this world, 1210 
 
 Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by Heaven ! 
 
 Stand by thy scorn, and be reduced to nought : 
 
 For what art thou ? Thou boaster ! while thy glare, 
 
 Thy gaudy grandeur, and mere worldly worth, 
 
 Like a broad mist, at distance strikes us most ; 1215 
 
 And, like a mist, is nothing when at hand ; 
 
 His merit, like a mountain, on approach, 
 
 Swells more, and rises nearer to the skies, 
 
 By promise now, and by possession soon, 
 
 (Too soon, too much, it cannot be,) his own. 1220 
 
 FROM this thy just annihilation rise, 
 
 LORENZO ! rise to something, by reply. 
 
 The World, thy client, listens and expects ; 
 
 And longs to crown thee with immortal praise. 
 
 Canst thou be silent 1 No ; for Wit is thine ; 1225 
 
 And Wit talks most when least she has to say, 
 
 And Reason interrupts not her career. 
 
 She '11 say, that " mists above the mountains rise ;" 
 
 And with a thousand pleasantries amuse. 
 
 She '11 sparkle, puzzle, flutter, raise a dust, 1230 
 
 And fly conviction in the dust she raised. 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto impressions is, 
 
 " Hence sacred the recesses of his soul." EDIT.
 
 252 NIOIIT THOUGHTS. NIGHT VIII 
 
 WIT, how delicious to man's dainty taste ! 
 
 'T is precious, as the vehicle of sense ; 
 
 But, as its substitute, a dire disease. 
 
 Pernicious talent ! flatter'd by the world, 1235 
 
 By the blind world, which thinks the talent rare.* 
 
 Wisdom is rare, LORENZO ! wit abounds ; 
 
 Passion can give it ; sometimes wine inspires 
 
 The lucky flash ; and madness rarely fails. 
 
 Whatever cause the spirit strongly stirs, 1240 
 
 Confers the bays, and rivals thy renown. 
 
 For thy renown 't were well was this the worst : 
 
 Chance often hits it ; and, to pique thee more, 
 
 See, Dulness, blundering on vivacities, 
 
 Shakes her sage head at the calamity 1245 
 
 Which has exposed and let her down to thee. 
 
 But Wisdom, awful Wisdom, which inspects, 
 
 Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, 
 
 Seizes the right, and holds it to the last ; 
 
 How rare ! in senates, synods, sought in vain ! 1250 
 
 Or if there found, 't is sacred to the few ; 
 
 While a lewd prostitute to multitudes, 
 
 Frequent, as fatal, Wit : in civil life, 
 
 Wit makes an enterpriser ; Sense, a man. 
 
 Wit hates authority, commotion loves, 1 255 
 
 And thinks herself the lightning of the storm. 
 
 In states, 't is dangerous ; in religion, death : 
 
 Shall Wit turn Christian, when the dull believe ? 
 
 Sense is our helmet, Wit is but the plume ; 
 
 The plume exposes, 't is our helmet saves. 1260 
 
 Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound ; 
 
 When cut by Wit, it casts a brighter beam ; 
 
 Yet, Wit apart, it is a diamond still. 
 
 * The reading of these two lines in the early quarto impressions was, 
 " Pernicious talent ! flatter'd by mankind. 
 Yet hated too : they think the talent rare." EDIT.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 253 
 
 Wit, widow'd of Good Sense, is worse than nought ; 
 
 It hoists more sail to run against a rock. 1265 
 
 Thus, a half-CnESTEHFiELD is quite a fool ; 
 
 Whom dull fools scorn, and bless their want of wit. 
 
 How ruinous the rock I warn thee shun, 
 
 Where Sirens sit to sing thee to thy fate ! 
 
 A joy in which our reason bears no part 1270 
 
 la but a sorrow tickling ere it stings. 
 
 Let not the cooings of the World allure thee ; 
 
 Which of her lovers ever found her true 1 
 
 Happy, of this bad World who little know ! 
 
 And yet we much must know her to be safe. 1275 
 
 To know the World, not love her, is thy point ; 
 
 She gives but little, nor that little long. 
 
 There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse, 
 
 A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy, 
 
 Our thoughtless Agitation's idle child, 1280 
 
 That mantles high, that sparkles, and expires, 
 
 Leaving the soul more vapid than before ; 
 
 An animal ovation ! such as holds 
 
 No commerce with our reason, but subsists 
 
 On juices, through the well-toned tubes well-strain'd ; 1285 
 
 A nice machine ! scarce ever tuned aright ; 
 
 And when it jars thy Sirens sing no more, 
 
 Thy dance is done ; the demi-god is thrown 
 
 (Short apotheosis !) beneath the man, 
 
 In coward gloom immersed, or fell despair. 1290 
 
 ART thou yet dull enough, despair to dread, 
 And startle at destruction ? If thou art, 
 Accept a buckler, take it to the field ; 
 (A field of battle is this mortal life !) 
 When danger threatens, lay it on thy heart ; 1295 
 
 A single sentence proof against the world : 
 " Soul, body, fortune ! every good pertains 
 z
 
 254 NIOHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT Till. 
 
 To one of these ; but prize not all alike : 
 
 The goods of fortune to thy body's health, 
 
 Body to soul, and soul submit to God." 1300 
 
 Wouldst thou build lasting happiness 1 Do this : 
 
 The' inTerted pyramid can never stand. 
 
 Is this truth doubtful 1 It outshines the sun ; 
 
 Nay, the sun shines not but to show us this, 
 
 The single lesson of mankind on earth. 1305 
 
 And yet Yet, what! No news! Mankind is mad ! 
 
 Such mighty numbers list against the right, 
 
 (And what can't numbers, when bewitch'd, achieve 1) 
 
 They talk themselves to something like belief, 
 
 That all earth's joys are theirs : as Athens' fool 1310 
 
 Grinn'd from the port on every sail his own. 
 
 THEY grin ; but wherefore ? and how long the laugh ? 
 
 Half ignorance their mirth, and half a lie ; 
 
 To cheat the world, and cheat themselves, they smile. 
 
 Hard either task ! The most abandon'd own, 1315 
 
 That others, if abandon'd, are undone : 
 
 Then, for themselves, the moment Reason wakes, 
 
 (And Providence denies it long repose,) 
 
 how laborious is their gaiety ! 
 
 They scarce can swallow their ebullient spleen, 1320 
 
 Scarce muster patience to support the farce, 
 
 And pump sad laughter till the curtain falls. 
 
 Scarce, did I say ? some cannot sit it out ; 
 
 Oft their own daring hands the curtain draw, 
 
 And show us what their joy by their despair. 1325 
 
 THE clotted hair ! gored breast ! blaspheming eye ! 
 
 Its impious fury still alive in death ! 
 
 Shut, shut the shocking scene ! But Heaven denies 
 
 A cover to such guilt ; and so should man. 
 
 Look round, LORENZO ! see the reeking blade, 1330
 
 VIRTUE'S APOLOQT. 255 
 
 The' envenom'd phial, and the fatal ball ; 
 
 The strangling cord, and suffocating stream ; 
 
 The loathsome rottenness, and foul decays 
 
 From raging riot ; (slower suicides !) 
 
 And pride in these, more execrable still ! 1335 
 
 How horrid all to thought ! But horrors these 
 
 That vouch the truth, and aid my feeble song. 
 
 FROM Vice, Sense, Fancy, no man can be bless'd : 
 
 Bliss is too great to lodge within an hour : 
 
 When an immortal being aims at bliss, 1340 
 
 Duration is essential to the name. 
 
 for a joy from Eeason ! joy from that 
 
 Which makes man MAN ; and, exercised aright, 
 
 Will make him more : a bounteous joy ! that gives, 
 
 And promises; that weaves, with art Divine, 1345 
 
 The richest prospect into present peace : 
 
 A joy ambitious ! joy in common held 
 
 With thrones ethereal, and their Greater far : 
 
 A joy high-privileged from Chance, Time, Death ; 
 
 A joy which Death shall double, Judgment crown ; 1350 
 
 Crown'd higher, and still higher, at each stage, 
 
 Through bless'd eternity's long day ; yet still, 
 
 Not more remote from sorrow than from Him 
 
 Whose lavish hand, whose love stupendous, pours 
 
 So much of Deity on guilty dust ! 1355 
 
 There, my LUCIA ! may I meet thee there,* 
 
 Where not thy presence can improve my bliss ! 
 
 * This brief and incidental mention of his departed wife is one of those 
 natural touches, to which the reader's attention has been directed at the 
 commencement of the Sixth Night, p. 136 ; and which, far beyond any 
 laboured panegyric, serve to prove the sincerity of his grief, and the 
 depth of his affection. See similar passing allusions to his loss in Night 
 vii. line 615, p. 185 j line 1258, p. 205 ; and in Night ix. line 473, p. 275. 
 EDIT. 
 
 Z 2
 
 256 NIGHT THOUGHTS. RIGHT VIII. 
 
 AFFECTS not this the sages of the world 1 
 
 Can nought affect them but what fools them too 1 
 
 Eternity depending on an hour, 1360 
 
 Makes serious thought man's wisdom, joy, and praise. 
 
 Nor need you blush (though sometimes your designs 
 
 May shun the light) at your designs on heaven : 
 
 Sole point, where over-bashful is your blame ! 
 
 Are you not wise 1 ? You know you are : yet hear 1365 
 
 One truth, amid your numerous schemes, mislaid, 
 
 Or overlook'd, or thrown aside, if seen : 
 
 " Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next, 
 
 Is the sole difference between wise and/ooZ." 
 
 All worthy men will weigh you in this scale ; 1370 
 
 What wonder, then, if they pronounce you light 1 
 
 Is their esteem alone not worth your care 1 
 
 Accept my simple scheme of common sense : 
 
 Thus save your fame, and make two worlds your own. 
 
 THE World replies not ; but the World persists ; 1375 
 
 And puts the cause off to the longest day, 
 
 Planning evasions for the day of doom : 
 
 So far, at that re-hearing, from redress, 
 
 They then turn witnesses against themselves. 
 
 Hear that, LORENZO ! nor be wise to-morrow. 1380 
 
 Haste, haste ! a man, by nature, is in haste : 
 
 For who shall answer for another hour ? 
 
 'T is highly prudent to make one sure friend ; 
 
 And that thou canst not do this side the skies. 
 
 YE sons of earth ! (nor willing to be more !) 1385 
 
 Since verse you think from priestcraft somewhat free, 
 
 Thus, in an age so gay, the Muse plain truths 
 
 (Truths which, at church, you might have heard in prose) 
 
 Has ventured into light ; well-pleased the verse 
 
 Should be forgot, if you the truths retain, 1 390 
 
 And crown her with your welfare, not your praisa.
 
 VIRTUE'S APOIXMJY. 257 
 
 But praise she need not fear : I see my fate, 
 
 And headlong leap, like CURTIUS, down the gulf. 
 
 Since many an ample volume, mighty tome, 
 
 Must die, and die unwept; thou minute, 1395 
 
 Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; 
 
 Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth, 
 
 And die a double death. Mankind, incensed, 
 
 Denies thee long to live : nor shalt thou rest 
 
 When thou art dead ; in Stygian shades arraign'd 1400 
 
 By LUCIFER, as traitor to his throne, 
 
 And bold blasphemer of his friend, the WORLD ; 
 
 The WOELD, whose legions cost him slender pay, 
 
 And, volunteers, around his banner swarm ; 
 
 Prudent as PRUSSIA in her zeal for GAUL. 1 405 
 
 "ABB all, then, fools'?" LORENZO cries. Yes, all, 
 
 But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee) : 
 
 "The mother of true Wisdom is the Will ;" 
 
 The noblest intellect a fool without it. 
 
 World-wisdom much has done, and more may do, 1410 
 
 In arts and sciences, in wars and peace ; 
 
 But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee, 
 
 And make thee twice a beggar at thy death. 
 
 This is the most Indulgence can afford : 
 
 " Thy wisdom all can do but make thee wise." 1415 
 
 Nor think this censure is severe on thee ; 
 
 Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. 
 
 i 3
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 NIGHT IX. 
 
 CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, 
 
 1 A MORAL SURVEY OP THE NOCTURNAL HEAVENS. 
 2. A NIGHT ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO HIS OKACB THE DUKE OP NEWCASTLE, 
 ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE. 
 
 Fatii contraiia/ata rependent. VIB.
 
 261 
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 NIGHT IX. 
 
 CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, 
 
 1. A MORAL SURVEY OP THE NOCTURNAL HEAVENS. 
 2. A NIGHT ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 As when a traveller, a long day pass'd 
 
 In painful search of what he cannot find, 
 
 At night's approach, content with the next cot, 
 
 There ruminates awhile his labour lost ; 
 
 Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords, 5 
 
 And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, 
 
 Till the due season calls him to repose : 
 
 Thus I, long travell'd in the ways of men, 
 
 And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze 
 
 Where Disappointment smiles at Hope's career ; 10 
 
 Warn'd by the languor of Life's evening ray, 
 
 At length have housed me in an humble shed ; 
 
 Where, future wandering banish'd from my thought, 
 
 And waiting patient the sweet hour of rest, 
 
 I chase the moments with a serious song. 1 5 
 
 Song soothes our pains ; and age has pains to soothe. 
 
 WHEN age, care, crime, and friends embraced at heart 
 Torn from my bleeding breast, and Death's dark shade, 
 Which hovers o'er me, quench the' ethereal fire,
 
 262 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 Canst thou, Night ! indulge one labour more 1 20 
 
 One labour more indulge ! then sleep, my strain ! 
 
 Till, haply, waked by RAPHAEL'S golden lyre, 
 
 Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow cease ; 
 
 To bear a part in everlasting lays, 
 
 Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 25 
 
 Symphonious to this humble prelude here. 
 
 HAS not the Muse asserted pleasures pure, 
 
 Like those above, exploding other joys ? 
 
 Weigh what was urged, LORENZO, fairly weigh ; 
 
 And tell me, hast thou cause to triumph still 1 30 
 
 I think thou wilt forbear a boast so bold. 
 
 But if, beneath the favour of mistake, 
 
 Thy smile 's sincere, not more sincere can be 
 
 LORENZO'S smile than my compassion for him. 
 
 The sick in body call for aid : the sick 35 
 
 In mind are covetous of more disease ; 
 
 And when at worst, they dream themselves quite well. 
 
 To know ourselves diseased, is half our cure. 
 
 When Nature's blush by custom is wiped off, 
 
 And Conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes, 40 
 
 Has into manners naturalized our crimes ; 
 
 The curse of curses is, our curse to love, 
 
 To triumph in the blackness of our guilt, 
 
 (As Indians glory in the deepest jet,) 
 
 And throw aside our senses with our peace. 45 
 
 BUT, grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy ; 
 
 Grant joy and glory, quite unsullied, shone ; 
 
 Yet still it ill deserves LORENZO'S heart. 
 
 No joy, no glory, glitters in thy sight, 
 
 But, through the thin partition of an hour, 50 
 
 I see its sables wove by Destiny ; 
 
 And that in sorrow buried ; this in shame ; 
 
 While howling Furies ring the doleful knell ;
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 263 
 
 And Conscience, now so soft thou scarce canst hear 
 
 Her whisper, echoes her* eternal peal. 55 
 
 WHERE the prime actors of the last Year's scene ? 
 
 Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plume ! 
 
 How many sleep who kept the world awake 
 
 With lustre and with noise ! Has Death proclaim'd 
 
 A truce, and hung his sated lance on high 1 60 
 
 'T is brandish'd still, nor shall the present Year 
 
 Be more tenacious of her human leaf, 
 
 Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. 
 
 BUT needless monuments to wake the thought ; 
 
 Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality ; 65 
 
 Though in a style more florid, full as plain 
 
 As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs : 
 
 What are our noblest ornaments, but Deaths 
 
 Turn'd flatterers of Life, in paint, or marble, 
 
 The well-stain'd canvass, or the featured stone 1 70 
 
 Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene. 
 
 Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. 
 
 " PROFESS'D Diversions ! cannot these escape 1 ?" 
 
 Far from it : these present us with a shroud ; 
 
 And talk of Death, like garlands o'er a grave. 75 
 
 As some bold plunderer for buried wealth, 
 
 We ransack tombs for pastime ; from the dust 
 
 Call up the sleeping hero ; bid him tread 
 
 The scene for our amusement. How like gods 
 
 We sit ; and, wrapp'd in immortality, 80 
 
 Shed generous tears on wretches born to die ; 
 
 Their fate deploring, to forget our own ! 
 
 WHAT, all the pomps and triumphs of our lives, 
 But legacies in blossom "? Our lean soil, 
 
 * The reading of the early quarto impressions was their. EDIT.
 
 264 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities, 85 
 
 From friends interr'd beneath, a rich manure ! 
 Like other worms, we banquet on the dead ; 
 Like other worms, shall we crawl on, nor know 
 Our present frailties, or approaching fate 1 
 
 LORENZO ! such the glories of the world ! 90 
 
 What is the world itself] thy world] A grave. 
 
 Where is the dust that has not been alive ] 
 
 The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors ; 
 
 From human mould we reap our daily bread. 
 
 The globe around Earth's hollow surface shakes, 95 
 
 And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. 
 
 O'er devastation we blind revels keep ; 
 
 Whole buried towns support the dancer's heel. 
 
 The moist of human frame the sun exhales ; 
 
 Winds scatter, through the mighty void, the dry ; 100 
 
 Earth repossesses part of what she gave, 
 
 And the freed spirit mounts on wings of fire ; 
 
 Each element partakes our scatter'd spoils ; 
 
 As Nature, wide, our ruins spread : man's death 
 
 Inhabits all things but the thought of man ! 105 
 
 NOR man alone ; his breathing bust expires, 
 
 His tomb is mortal ; empires die. Where now 
 
 The Eoman 1 Greek ] They stalk, an empty name ! 
 
 Yet few regard them in this useful light ; 
 
 Though half our learning is their epitaph. 110 
 
 When down thy vale, unlock'd by midnight thought, 
 
 That loves to wander in thy sunless realms, 
 
 Death ! I stretch my view ; what visions rise ! 
 
 What triumphs, toils imperial, arts Divine, 
 
 In wither'd laurels, glide before my sight ! 115 
 
 What lengths of far-famed ages, billow'd high 
 
 With human agitation, roll along 
 
 In unsubstantial images of air !
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 265 
 
 The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, 
 
 Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause, 120 
 
 With penitential aspect, as they pass, 
 
 All point at earth, and hiss at human pride, 
 
 The wisdom of the wise, and prancings of the great. 
 
 Bur, LORENZO, far the rest above, 
 
 Of ghastly nature and enormous size, 125 
 
 ' One form assaults my sight, and chills my blood, 
 And shakes my frame. Of one departed world 
 I see the mighty shadow : oozy wreath 
 And dismal sea-weed crown her ! O'er her urn, 
 Reclined, she weeps her desolated realms, 130 
 
 And bloated sons ; and, weeping, prophesies 
 Another's dissolution, soon, in flames : 
 But, like CASSANDRA, prophesies in vain ; 
 In vain, to many ; not, I trust, to thee. 
 
 FOR, know'st thou not, or art thou loath to know, 135 
 
 The great decree, the counsel of the Skies 1 
 
 Deluge and Conflagration, dreadful powers ! 
 
 Prime ministers of Vengeance ! Chain'd in caves 
 
 Distinct, apart, the giant Furies roar ; 
 
 Apart, or, such their horrid rage for ruin, 140 
 
 In mutual conflict would they rise, and wage 
 
 Eternal war, till one was quite devour'd. 
 
 But not for this ordain'd their boundless rage : 
 
 When Heaven's inferior instruments of wrath, 
 
 War, Famine, Pestilence, are found too weak 145 
 
 To scourge a world for her enormous crimes, 
 
 These are let loose, alternate ; down they rush, 
 
 Swift and tempestuous, from the' etrnal throne, 
 
 With irresistible commission arm'd, 
 
 The world, in vain corrected, to destroy, 150 
 
 And ease Creation of the shocking scene.
 
 266 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 SBEOT thou, LORENZO, what depends on man ? 
 
 The fate of Nature ; as for man her birth. 
 
 Earth's actors change Earth's transitory scenes, 
 
 And make Creation groan with human guilt. 155 
 
 How must it groan, in a new deluge whelm'd, 
 
 But not of waters ! At the destined hour, 
 
 By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge, 
 
 See, all the formidable sons of Fire, 
 
 Eruptions, Earthquakes, Comets, Lightnings, play 160 
 
 Their various engines ; all at once disgorge 
 
 Their blazing magazines ; and take by storm 
 
 This poor terrestrial citadel of man. 
 
 AMAZING period ! when each mountain-height 
 
 Out-burns Vesuvius ; rocks eternal pour 1 C5 
 
 Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd ; 
 
 Stars rush ; and final Ruin fiercely drives 
 
 Her ploughshare o'er Creation ! while aloft 
 
 More than astonishment, if more can be ! 
 
 Far other firmament than e'er was seen, 170 
 
 Than e'er was thought by man ! Far other stars ! 
 
 Stars animate, that govern these of fire. 
 
 Far other Sun ! A Sun, how unlike 
 
 The Babe at Bethlehem ! How unlike the Man 
 
 That groan'd on Calvary ! Yet He it is ; 175 
 
 That Man of sorrows ! how changed ! What pomp ! 
 
 In grandeur terrible, all heaven descends ! 
 
 And gods, ambitious, triumph in His train.* 
 
 A swift archangel, with his golden wing, 
 
 * In the first quarto, these four lines immediately followed, which 
 were omitted in all subsequent impressions : 
 
 " As monarch. 1 ! grand, on coronation-days, 
 OMNIPOTENCE affects omnipotence, 
 Wears all His glories, marshals all His powers, 
 Their State imblazes, Deity exalts !" ED rr.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 267 
 
 As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace 180 
 
 The scene Divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. 
 
 And now, all dross removed, Heaven's own pure day, 
 
 Full on the confines of our ether, flames : 
 
 While (dreadful contrast !) far (how far !) beneath, 
 
 Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, 185 
 
 And storms sulphureous ; her voracious jaws 
 
 Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. 
 
 LORENZO, welcome to this scene ; the last 
 
 In Nature's course, the first in Wisdom's thought. 
 
 This strikes, if aught can strike thee ; this awakes 190 
 
 The most supine ; this snatches man from death. 
 
 Rouse, rouse, LOKENZO, then, and follow me, 
 
 Where Truth, the most momentous man can hear, 
 
 Loud calls my soul, and Ardour wings her flight. 
 
 I find my inspiration in my theme ; 195 
 
 The grandeur of my subject is my Muse. 
 
 AT midnight, (when mankind is wrapp'd in peace, 
 And worldly Fancy feeds on golden dreams,) 
 To give more dread to man's most dreadful hour, 
 At midnight, 't is presumed, this pomp will burst 200 
 
 From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark 
 From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. 
 Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more ; 
 The day is broke which never more shall close ! 
 Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! 205 
 
 Terror and glory join'd in their extremes ! 
 Our GOD in grandeur, and our world on fire ! 
 All Nature struggling in the pangs of death ! 
 Dost thou not hear her 1 ? Dost thou not deplore 
 Her strong convulsions, and her final groan 7 210 
 
 Where are we now 1 Ah me ! the ground is gone 
 On which we stood ! LORENZO, while thou mayst, 
 Provide more firm support, or sink for ever ! 
 2 A 2
 
 268 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 "Where? How 1 ? From whence?" Vain hope! it is too late! 
 Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, 215 
 
 When consternation turns the good man pale ? 
 
 GREAT day ! for which all other days were made ; 
 
 For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth ; 
 
 And an eternity, the date of gods, 
 
 Descended on poor earth-created man ! 220 
 
 Great day of dread, decision, and despair ! 
 
 At thought of thee each sublunary wish 
 
 Lets go its eager grasp, and drops the world ; 
 
 And catches at each reed of hope in heaven. 
 
 At THOUGHT of thee! And art thou absent then ? 225 
 
 LORENZO, no ; 't is here ! it is begun : 
 
 Already is begun the Grand Assize, 
 
 In thee, in all ; deputed Conscience scales 
 
 The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom ; 
 
 Forestalls ; and, by forestalling, proves it sure. 230 
 
 Why on himself should man void judgment pass] 
 
 Is idle Nature laughing at her sons "? 
 
 Who Conscience sent, her sentence will support, 
 
 And GOD above assert that GOD in man. 
 
 THRICE happy they that enter now the court 235 
 
 Heaven opens in their bosoms : but, how rare, 
 
 Ah me ! that magnanimity, how rare ! 
 
 What hero like the man who stands himself ; 
 
 Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
 
 Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 240 
 
 Resolved to silence future murmurs there ] 
 
 The coward flies ; and, flying, is undone. 
 
 (Art thou a coward ? No !) The coward flies : 
 
 Thinks, but thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know ; 
 
 Asks, "What is truth 1" with PILATE ; and retires ; 245 
 
 Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng ; 
 
 Asylum sad from reason, hope, and heaven !
 
 THB CONSOLATION. 269 
 
 SHALL all but man look out, with ardent eye, 
 For that great day which was ordain'd for man ] 
 
 day of consummation ! mark supreme 250 
 (If men are wise) of human thought ! nor least, 
 
 Or in the sight of angels or their KING ! 
 
 Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height, 
 
 Order o'er order, rising, blaze o'er blaze, 
 
 As in a theatre, surround this scene, 255 
 
 Intent on man, and anxious for his fate : 
 
 Angels look out for thee ; for thee, their LORD, 
 
 To vindicate His glory ; and for thee 
 
 Creation universal calls aloud, 
 
 To disinvolve the moral world, and give 260 
 
 To Nature's renovation brighter charms. 
 
 SHALL man alone, whose fate, whose final fate, 
 Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought ] 
 
 1 think of nothing else ; I see, I feel it ! 
 
 All Nature, like an earthquake, trembling round ! 265 
 
 All deities, like summer's swarms, on wing ! 
 
 All basking in the full meridian blaze ! 
 
 I see the JUDGE enthroned, the flaming guard, 
 
 The volume open'd, open'd every heart ! 
 
 A sunbeam pointing out each secret thought ! 270 
 
 No patron, intercessor none ! now past 
 
 The sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour ! 
 
 For guilt no plea ! to pain, no pause, no bound ! 
 
 Inexorable all, and all extreme ! 
 
 NOE man alone ; the foe of GOD and man, 275 
 
 From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, 
 And rears his brasen front, with thunder scarr'd ; 
 Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. 
 All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace : 
 Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll 280 
 
 2 A 3
 
 270 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 His baleful eyes ! He curses whom he dreads ; 
 And deems it the first moment of his fall. 
 
 'T is present to my thought ! And yet where is it ? 
 
 Angels can't tell me ; angels cannot guess 
 
 The period ; from created beings lock'd 285 
 
 In darkness. But the process and the place 
 
 Are less obscure : for these may man inquire. 
 
 Say, thou Great Close of human hopes and fears, 
 
 Great Key of hearts, Great Finisher of fates, 
 
 Great End, and Great Beginning ! Say, where art thou ? 
 
 Art thou in time, or in eternity ? 291 
 
 Nor in eternity, nor time, I find thee. 
 
 These, as two monarchs, on their borders meet, 
 
 (Monarchs of all elapsed, or unarrived !) 
 
 As in debate, how best their powers allied 295 
 
 May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath, 
 
 Of HIM whom both their monarchies obey. 
 
 TIME this vast fabric for him built (and doom'd 
 
 With him to fall) now bursting o'er his head ; 
 
 His lamp, the sun, extinguished from beneath 300 
 
 The frown of hideous darkness calls his sons 
 
 From their long slumber ; from Earth's heaving womb, 
 
 To second birth. Contemporary throng ! 
 
 Boused at one call, upstarting from one bed, 
 
 Press'd in one crowd, appall'd with one amaze, 305 
 
 He turns them o'er, Eternity, to thee. 
 
 Then (as a king deposed disdains to live) 
 
 He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 
 
 His greatest foe falls with him ; TIME, and he 
 
 Who murder'd all Time's offspring, DEATH, expire. 310 
 
 TIME was ! ETERNITY now reigns alone ! 
 
 Awful Eternity, offended queen ! 
 
 And her resentment to mankind how just !
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 271 
 
 With kind intent soliciting access, 
 
 How often has she knock'd at human hearts ! 315 
 
 Eich to repay their hospitality, 
 
 How often call'd, and with the voice of GOD ! 
 
 Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat, 
 
 A dream ! while foulest foes found welcome there ! 
 
 A dream, a cheat, now, all things but her smile. 320 
 
 FOB, lo ! her twice ten thousand gates, thrown wide 
 
 As thrice from Indus to the frozen pole 
 
 With banners streaming as the comet's blaze, 
 
 And clarions louder than the deep in storms, 
 
 Sonorous as immortal breath can blow 325 
 
 Pour forth their myriads, potentates, and powers, 
 
 Of light, of darkness ; in a middle field, 
 
 Wide as Creation, populous as wide ! 
 
 A neutral region ! there to mark the' event 
 
 Of that great drama, whose preceding scenes 330 
 
 Detain'd them close spectators, through a length 
 
 Of ages, ripening to this grand result ; 
 
 Ages, as yet unnumber'd but by GOD ; 
 
 Who now, pronouncing sentence, vindicates 
 
 The rights of Virtue, and His own renown. 335 
 
 ETERNITY, the various sentence past, 
 
 Assigns the sever'd throng distinct abodes, 
 
 Sulphureous or ambrosial. What ensues ? 
 
 The deed predominant, the deed of deeds ! 
 
 Which makes a hell of hell, a heaven of heaven ! 340 
 
 The goddess, with determined aspect, turns 
 
 Her adamantine key's enormous size 
 
 Through Destiny's inextricable wards, 
 
 Deep driving every bolt on both their fates. 
 
 Then, from the crystal battlements of heaven, 345 
 
 Down, down she hurls it through the dark profound, 
 
 Ten thousand thousand fathom ; there to rust,
 
 272 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 And ne'er unlock her resolution more. 
 
 The deep resounds ; and Hell, through all her glooms, 
 
 Eeturns, in groans, the melancholy roar. 350 
 
 HOW unlike the chorus of the Skies ! 
 
 how unlike those shouts of joy, that shake 
 
 The whole ethereal ! How the concave rings ! 
 
 Nor strange, when deities their voice exalt ; 
 
 And louder far than when Creation rose, 355 
 
 To see Creation's godlike aim and end 
 
 So well accomplish'd, so divinely closed ! 
 
 To see the mighty Dramatist's last act 
 
 (As meet) in glory rising o'er the rest ! 
 
 No fancied GOD, a GOD indeed, descends, 360 
 
 To solve all knots ; to strike the moral home ; 
 
 To throw full day on darkest scenes of time ; 
 
 To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. 
 
 Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise, 
 
 The charm'd spectators thunder their applause ; 365 
 
 And the vast void, beyond, applause resounds. 
 
 WHAT THEN AM 1 1 
 
 Amidst applauding worlds, 
 And worlds celestial, is there found on earth 
 A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, 370 
 
 Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains? 
 Censure on thee, LORENZO, I suspend, 
 And turn it on myself ; how greatly due ! 
 All, all is right, by GOD ordain'd or done ; 
 And who but GOD resumed the friends He gave 1 375 
 
 And have I been complaining then so long 1 
 Complaining of His favours, Pain and Death ? 
 Who, without Pain's advice, would e'er be good 1 
 Who, without Death, but would be good in vain 1 
 Pain is to save from pain ; all punishment, 380 
 
 To make for peace ; and Death, to save from death ;
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 273 
 
 And second death, to guard immortal life ; 
 
 To rouse the careless, the presumptuous awe, 
 
 And turn the tide of souls another way ; 
 
 By the same tenderness Divine ordain'd, 385 
 
 That planted Eden, and high-bloom'd for man 
 
 A fairer Eden, endless, in the skies. 
 
 HEAVEN gives us friends to bless the present scene ; 
 
 Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. 
 
 All evils natural are moral goods : 390 
 
 All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 
 
 None are unhappy : all have cause to smile 
 
 But such as to themselves that cause deny. 
 
 Our faults are at the bottom of our pains ; 
 
 Error, in act or judgment, is the source 395 
 
 Of endless sighs : we sin, or we mistake ; 
 
 And Nature tax, when false Opinion stings. 
 
 Let impious Grief be banish'd, Joy indulged ; 
 
 But chiefly then, when Grief puts in her claim. 
 
 Joy from the joyous frequently betrays, 400 
 
 Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe. 
 
 Joy, amidst ills, corroborates, exalts ; 
 
 'T is joy and conquest ; joy and virtue too. 
 
 A noble fortitude in ills delights 
 
 Heaven, earth, ourselves ; 't is duty, glory, peace. 405 
 
 Affliction is the good man's shining scene ! 
 
 Prosperity conceals his brightest ray ; 
 
 As Night to stars, Woe lustre gives to man. 
 
 Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm, 
 
 And Virtue in calamities, admire. 410 
 
 The crown of manhood is a winter-joy ; 
 
 An evergreen that stands the northern blast, 
 
 And blossoms in the rigour of our fate. 
 
 'T is a prime part of happiness to know 
 
 How much unhappiness must prove our lot ; 415
 
 274 KIGIIT THOCGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 A part which few possess ! I '11 pay life's tax 
 
 Without one rebel murmur from this hour, 
 
 Nor think it misery to be a man ; 
 
 Who thinks it is, shall never be a god : 
 
 Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live. 420 
 
 WHAT spoke proud Passion ] " Wish my being lost ! " * 
 
 Presumptuous, blasphemous, absurd, and false ! 
 
 The triumph of my soul is that I am ; 
 
 And therefore that I may be What 1 LORENZO ! 
 
 Look inward, and look deep, and deeper still ; 425 
 
 Unfathomably deep our treasure runs 
 
 In golden veins through all eternity ! 
 
 Ages, and ages, and succeeding still 
 
 New ages, where this phantom of an hour, 
 
 Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repair, 430 
 
 Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, 
 
 And fly through infinite, and all unlock ; 
 
 And, (if deserved,) by Heaven's redundant love 
 
 Made half adorable itself, adore ; 
 
 And find in adoration endless joy ! 435 
 
 Where thou, not master of a moment here, 
 
 Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale, 
 
 Mayst boast a whole eternity, enrich'd 
 
 With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. 
 
 Since ADAM fell, no mortal, uninspired, 440 
 
 Has ever yet conceived, or ever shall, 
 
 How kind is GOD, how great (if good) is MAN. 
 
 No man too largely from Heaven's love can hope, 
 
 If what is hoped he labours to secure. 
 
 ? There are none ! All-Gracious ! none from Thee ; 
 From man full many ! Numerous is the race 446 
 
 Of blackest ills, and those immortal too, 
 
 * Referring to the First Night
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 275 
 
 Begot by Madness on fair Liberty ; 
 
 Heaven's daughter, hell-debauch'd ! Her hand alone 
 
 Unlocks destruction to the sons of men, 450 
 
 Fast barr'd by Thine ; high-wall'd with adamant, 
 
 Guarded with terrors reaching to this world, 
 
 And cover'd with the thunders of Thy law ; 
 
 Whose threats are mercies, whose injunctions guides, 
 
 Assisting, not restraining, Reason's choice ; 455 
 
 Whose sanctions, unavoidable results 
 
 From Nature's course, indulgently reveal'd ; 
 
 If unreveal'd, more dangerous, nor less sure. 
 
 Thus, an indulgent father warns his sons, 
 
 " Do this ; fly that ; " nor always tells the cause ; 460 
 
 Pleased to reward, as duty to his will, 
 
 A conduct needful to their own repose. 
 
 GEEAT GOD of wonders ! (if, Thy love survey'd, 
 
 Aught else the name of wonderful retains,) 
 
 What rocks are these, on which to build our trust 1 465 
 
 Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I find ; 
 
 Or this alone that " none is to be found." 
 
 Not one, to soften Censure's hardy crime ; 
 
 Not one, to palliate peevish Grief's COMPLAINT, 
 
 Who, like a demon, murmuring, from the dust, 470 
 
 Dares into judgment call her Judge. SUPREME ! 
 
 For all I bless Thee ; most, for the severe ; 
 
 Her death* my own at hand the fiery gulf, 
 
 That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent ! 
 
 It thunders ; but it thunders to preserve ; 475 
 
 It strengthens what it strikes ; its wholesome dread 
 
 Averts the dreaded pain ; its hideous groans 
 
 Join Heaven's sweet Hallelujahs in Thy praise, 
 
 Great Source of good alone ! How kind in all ! 
 
 In vengeance kind ! Pain, Death, Gehenna, SAVE. 480 
 
 * LUCIA.
 
 276 NIGHT THOUGHTS. RIGHT IX. 
 
 THUS, in thy world material, Mighty Mind ! 
 
 Not that alone which solaces and shines, 
 
 The rough and gloomy challenges our praise. 
 
 The winter is as needful as the spring ; 
 
 The thunder, as the sun ; a stagnate mass 485 
 
 Of vapours breeds a pestilential air : 
 
 Nor more propitious the Favonian breeze 
 
 To Nature's health, than purifying storms. 
 
 The dread volcano ministers to good ; 
 
 Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. 490 
 
 Loud jEtnas fulminate in love to man ; 
 
 Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd ; 
 
 And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. 
 
 MAN is responsible for ills received ! 
 
 Those we call wretched are a chosen band, 495 
 
 Compell'd to refuge in the right, for peace. 
 
 Amid my list of blessings infinite, 
 
 Stand this the foremost that " my heart has bled." 
 
 *T is Heaven's last effort of good- will to man ; 
 
 When pain can't bless, Heaven quits us in despair. 500 
 
 Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, 
 
 Or grieves too much, deserves not to be bless'd ; 
 
 Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart : 
 
 Eeason absolves the grief which Reason ends. 
 
 May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness, 505 
 
 Till it has taught him how to bear it well, 
 
 By previous pain ; and made it safe to smile ! 
 
 Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain ; 
 
 Nor hazard their extinction, from excess. 
 
 My change of heart a change of style demands ; 510 
 
 The CONSOLATION cancels the COMPLAINT, 
 
 And makes a convert of my guilty song. 
 
 As when, o'erlabour'd, and inclined to breathe, 
 
 A panting traveller some rising ground, 
 
 Some small ascent, has gain'd; he turns him round, 515
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 277 
 
 And measures with his eye the various vale, 
 
 The fields, woods, meads, and rivers he has pass'd ; 
 
 And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, 
 
 Endear'd by distance, nor affects more toil : 
 
 Thus I, though small indeed is that ascent 520 
 
 The Muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod, 
 
 Various, extensive, beaten but by few ; 
 
 And, conscious of her prudence in repose, 
 
 Pause ; and with pleasure meditate an end, 
 
 Though still remote ; so fruitful is my theme. 525 
 
 Through many a field of moral and Divine, 
 
 The Muse has stray'd ; and much of sorrow seen 
 
 In human ways ; and much of false and vain ; 
 
 Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss. - 
 
 O'er friends deceased full heartily she wept ; 530 
 
 Of love Divine the wonders she display'd ; 
 
 Proved man immortal ; show*d the source of joy ; 
 
 The grand tribunal raised ; assign'd the bounds 
 
 Of human grief : in few, to close the whole, 
 
 The moral Muse has shadow'd out a sketch, 535 
 
 Though not in form, nor with a RAPHAEL-stroke, 
 
 Of most our weakness needs believe or do, 
 
 In this our land of travel, and of hope, 
 
 For peace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 
 
 WHAT then remains 1 Much ! much ! a mighty debt 540 
 
 To be discharged : these thoughts, NIGHT ! are thine ; 
 
 From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs, 
 
 While others slept. So CYNTHIA, (poets feign,) 
 
 In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her sphere, 
 
 Her shepherd cheer'd ; of her enamour'd less 545 
 
 Than I of thee. And art thou still unsung, 
 
 Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing 1 
 
 Immortal Silence ! Where shall I begin 1 
 
 Where end 1 or how steal music from the spheres 
 
 To soothe their goddess ] 550 
 
 B B
 
 278 KIGUT THOUGHTS. KIGUT IX. 
 
 MAJESTIC NIGHT ! 
 
 Nature's great ancestor ! Day's elder-born, 
 And fated to survive the transient sun ! 
 By mortals and immortals seen with awe ! 
 A starry crown thy raven brow adorns ; 555 
 
 An azure zone, thy waist ; clouds, in Heaven's loom 
 Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, 
 In ample folds of drapery Divine, 
 Thy flowing mantle form, and, heaven throughout, 
 Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 560 
 
 Thy gloomy grandeurs (Nature's most august, 
 Inspiring aspect !) claim a grateful verse ; 
 And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, 
 Drawn o'er my labours pass'd, shall close the scene. 
 
 AND what, man ! so worthy to be sung ? 565 
 
 What more prepares us for the songs of heaven 1 
 
 Creation of archangels is the theme ! 
 
 What, to be sung, so needful ] What so well 
 
 Celestial joys prepares us to sustain? 
 
 The soul of man, HIS face design'd to see 570 
 
 Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, 
 
 Has here a previous scene of objects great 
 
 On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse 
 
 Of thought, to rise to that exalted height 
 
 Of admiration, to contract that awe, 575 
 
 And give her whole capacities that strength, 
 
 Which best may qualify for final joy. 
 
 The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, 
 
 The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven. 
 
 HEAVEN'S KING ! whose face unveil'd consummates bliss ; 
 Redundant bliss ! which fills that mighty void 581 
 
 The whole creation leaves in human hearts ! 
 THOU, who didst touch the lip of JESSE'S son, 
 Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 279 
 
 And set his harp in concert with the spheres ! 
 
 585 
 
 While of Thy works material the supreme 
 
 
 I dare attempt, assist my daring song. 
 
 
 Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the sun's 
 
 
 Contracted circle set my heart at large ; 
 
 
 Eliminate my spirit, give it range 
 
 590 
 
 Through provinces of thought yet unexplored ; 
 
 
 Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding, 
 
 
 Creation's golden steps, to climb to THEE. 
 
 
 Teach me with Art great Nature to control, 
 
 
 And spread a lustre o'er the shades of night. 
 
 595 
 
 Feel I Thy kind assent ? and shall the sun 
 
 
 Be seen at midnight, rising in my song ? 
 
 
 LORENZO ! come, and warm thee : thou whose heart, 
 
 
 Whose little heart, is moor'd within a nook 
 
 
 Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh. 
 
 600 
 
 Another ocean calls, a nobler port ; 
 
 
 I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 
 
 
 Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main ; 
 
 
 Main without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; 
 
 
 And whence thou mayst import eternal wealth ; 
 
 605 
 
 And leave to beggar'd minds the pearl and gold. 
 
 
 Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms ? 
 
 
 Thou stranger to the world ! thy tour begin j 
 
 
 Thy tour through Nature's universal orb. 
 
 
 Nature delineates her whole chart at large, 
 
 610 
 
 On soaring souls, that sail among the spheres ; 
 
 
 And man how purblind, if unknown the whole ! 
 
 
 Who circles spacious Earth, then travels here, 
 
 
 Shall own he never was from home before ! 
 
 
 Come, my PROMETHEUS,* from thy pointed rock 
 
 615 
 
 Of false ambition if unchain'd, we '11 mount ; 
 
 
 We '11 innocently steal celestial fire, 
 
 
 * Night the Eighth. 
 
 
 2 u 2 

 
 280 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And kindle our devotion at the stars ; 
 
 A theft that shall not chain, but set thee free. 
 
 ABOVE our Atmosphere's intestine wars, 620 
 
 Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of Hail ; 
 
 Above the northern nests of feather'd Snows, 
 
 The brew of Thunders, and the naming forge 
 
 That forms the crooked Lightning ; 'bove the caves 
 
 Where infant Tempests wait their growing wings, 625 
 
 And tune their tender voices to that roar 
 
 Which soon, perhaps, shall shake a guilty world ; 
 
 Above misconstrued omens of the sky, 
 
 Far-travell'd Comets' calculated blaze, 
 
 Elance thy thought, and think of more than man. 630 
 
 Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither'd, shrunk, 
 
 Blighted by blasts of Earth's unwholesome air, 
 
 Will blossom here ; spread all her faculties 
 
 To these bright ardours ; every power unfold, 
 
 And rise into sublimities of thought. 635 
 
 Stars teach as well as shine. At Nature's birth, 
 
 Thus their commission ran, " Be kind to man." 
 
 Where art thou, poor benighted traveller? 
 
 The stars will light thee, though the moon should fail. 
 
 Where art thou, more benighted, more astray 640 
 
 In ways immoral ] The stars call thee back ; 
 
 And, if obey'd their counsel, set thee right.* 
 
 * The following lines occur in the first quarto, but are omitted in all 
 subsequent, impressions : 
 
 " Where art thou, Virtue- militant! The stars 
 Are thine allies, all listed on thy side. 
 By thousands, and ten thousands, they advance 
 Their bright battalions in fair Virtue's cause ; 
 And keep strict watch, and nightly light their fires, 
 Fires of alarm, to warn thee of the foe ; 
 The foe, that claims these regions as his own ; 
 Usurper bold, high-styled Tlte Prince of Air I
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 281 
 
 THIS prospect vast, what is it 1 "VVeigh'd aright, 
 
 'T is Nature's system of divinity, 
 
 And every student of the night inspires. 645 
 
 'T is elder Scripture, writ by GOD'S own hand ; 
 
 Scripture authentic, uncorrupt by man. 
 
 LORENZO, with my radius (the rich gift 
 
 Of thought nocturnal !) I '11 point out to thee 
 
 Its various lessons ; some that may surprise 650 
 
 An un-adept in mysteries of NIGHT ; 
 
 Little, perhaps, expected in her school, 
 
 Nor thought to grow on planet, or on star. 
 
 Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters, here we feign : 
 
 Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here 655 
 
 Exists indeed a lecture to mankind ! 
 
 WHAT read we here! The' existence of a GOD ] 
 
 Yes : and of other beings, man above ; 
 
 Natives of ether, sons of higher climes ! * 
 
 And, what may move LORENZO'S wonder more, 660 
 
 ETERNITY is written in the skies. 
 
 And whose eternity ? LORENZO ! thine : 
 
 Mankind's eternity. Nor FAITH alone, 
 
 Beneath Night's awful banner, let us draw 
 Sidereal Wisdom's formidable sword, 
 And send him headlong to far other flames! 
 MICHAEL'S alone the sword his mighty arm 
 Pluck'd from the golden column in the Mount, 
 The Mount Celestial, where the sons of God 
 Hang up Heaven's vengeance, far above the stars, 
 Above the Sagittary's humble bow 
 Could give the swarthy demon deeper wound. 
 
 " And was there need of ampler field than this, 
 When giant-angels giant-angels met, 
 In fiery conflict, and outrageous storm, 
 To controvert the sceptre of the sides ? " EDIT. 
 * The following line is found only in the first quarto impression : 
 " Immortal lights, that govern these of fire ! "EDIT. 
 2 B 3
 
 282 SIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 VIRTUE grows here ; here springs the sovereign cure 
 
 Of almost every vice ; but chiefly thine, 665 
 
 Wrath, pride, ambition, and impure desire.* 
 
 LOKENZO, thou canst wake at midnight too, 
 
 Though not on morals bent : Ambition, Pleasure, 
 
 Those tyrants I for thee so lately t fought, 
 
 Afford their harass'd slaves but slender rest. 670 
 
 Thou, to whom midnight is immoral noon ; 
 
 And the sun's noontide blaze, prime dawn of day ; 
 
 Not by thy climate, but capricious crime, 
 
 Commencing one of our antipodes ! 
 
 In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, 675 
 
 'T wixt stage and stage of riot and cabal ; 
 
 And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift, 
 
 If bold to meet the face of injured Heaven) 
 
 To yonder stars : for other ends they shine, 
 
 Than to light revellers from shame to shame, 680 
 
 And thus be made accomplices in guilt. 
 
 WHY from yon arch, that Infinite of space, 
 
 With Infinite of lucid orbs replete, 
 
 Which set the living firmament on fire, 
 
 At the first glance, in such an overwhelm 685 
 
 Of Wonderful, on man's astonish'd sight 
 
 Rushes OMNIPOTENCE 1 To curb our pride ; 
 
 Our reason rouse, and lead it to that Power 
 
 Whose love lets down these silver chains of light, 
 
 To draw up man's ambition to Himself, 690 
 
 * The following five lines occur only in the first quarto impression : 
 " Dost ask, why call I thee at this late hour, 
 Which all-wise Nature destined to repote t 
 Yes, and to fit us for repose more sweet 
 Than down can yield, or man on earth enjoy : 
 Own all-wise Nature wiser still in this ! " EDIT. 
 
 f Night the Eighth.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 283 
 
 And bind our chaste affections to His throne. 
 
 Thus the three virtues, least alive on earth, 
 
 And welcomed on heaven's coast with most applause, 
 
 An humble, pure, and heavenly-minded heart, 
 
 Are here inspired. And canst thou gaze too long? 695 
 
 NOB stands thy wrath deprived of its reproof, 
 
 Or un-upbraided by this radiant choir. 
 
 The planets of each system represent 
 
 Kind neighbours ; mutual amity prevails ; 
 
 Sweet interchange of rays, received, return'd ; 700 
 
 Enlightening, and enlighten'd ! All, at once, 
 
 Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 
 
 None sins against the welfare of the whole ; 
 
 But their reciprocal, unselfish aid 
 
 Affords an emblem of millennial love. 705 
 
 Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, 
 
 Was e'er created solely for itself : 
 
 Thus man his sovereign duty learns in thia 
 
 Material picture of benevolence. 
 
 AND know, of all our supercilious race, 710 
 
 Thou most inflammable, thou wasp of men ! 
 
 Man's angry heart, inspected, would be found 
 
 As rightly set as are the starry spheres ; 
 
 'T is Nature's structure, broke by stubborn Will, 
 
 Breeds all that uncelestial discord there. 715 
 
 Wilt thou not feel the bias Nature gavel 
 
 Canst thou descend from converse with the Skies, 
 
 And seize thy brother's throat "? For what 1 a clod 1 
 
 An inch of earth 1 The Planets cry, " Forbear." 
 
 They chase our double darkness ; Nature's gloom, 720 
 
 And (kinder still !) our intellectual night. 
 
 AND see, Day's amiable sister sends 
 Her invitation, in the softest rays
 
 284 NIQHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Of mitigated lustre ; courts thy sight, 
 
 Which suffers from her tyrant brother's blaze. 725 
 
 Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies, 
 
 Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 
 
 With gain and joy she bribes thee to be wise. 
 
 Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe 
 
 Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 730 
 
 And deep reception in the' entender'd heart ; 
 
 While Light peeps through the darkness like a spy, 
 
 And Darkness shows its grandeur by the light. 
 
 Nor is the profit greater than the joy, 
 
 If human hearts at glorious objects glow, 735 
 
 And admiration can inspire delight. 
 
 WHAT speak I more than I, this moment, feel 1 
 
 With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck ; 
 
 (Stupor ordain'd to make her truly wise !) 
 
 Then into transport starting from her trance, 740 
 
 With love and admiration how she glows ! 
 
 This gorgeous apparatus, this display, 
 
 This ostentation of creative power, 
 
 This theatre, what eye can take it in ? 
 
 By what Divine enchantment was it raised, 745 
 
 For minds of the first magnitude to launch 
 
 In endless speculation, and adore 1 
 
 One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; 
 
 And light us deep into the DEITY ; 
 
 How boundless in magnificence and might ! 750 
 
 O what a confluence of ethereal fires, 
 
 From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven, 
 
 Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! 
 
 Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart. 
 
 My heart, at once, it humbles and exalts ; 755 
 
 Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. 
 
 Who sees it unexalt-ed, or unawed ? 
 
 Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen J
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 285 
 
 Material offspring of OMNIPOTENCE ! 
 
 Inanimate, all-animating birth! 760 
 
 Work worthy Him who made it ! worthy praise, 
 
 All praise, praise more than human ! nor denied 
 
 Thy praise Divine ! But though man, drown'd in sleep, 
 
 Withholds his homage, not alone I wake ; 
 
 Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard 765 
 
 By mortal ear, the glorious Architect, 
 
 In this His universal temple hung 
 
 With lustres, with innumerable lights, 
 
 That shed religion on the soul ; at once, 
 
 The temple and the preacher ! how loud 770 
 
 It calls Devotion, genuine growth of Night ! 
 
 DEVOTION ! daughter of Astronomy ! 
 
 An undevout astronomer is mad. 
 
 True, all things speak a GOD ; but, in the small, 
 
 Men trace out Him ; in great, He seizes man ; 775 
 
 Seizes, and elevates, and raps, and fills 
 
 With new inquiries, 'mid associates new. 
 
 Tell me, ye stars, ye planets, tell me, all 
 
 Ye starr'd and planeted inhabitants ! what is it ] 
 
 What are these sons of wonder 1 Say, proud arch, 780 
 
 (Within whose azure palaces they dwell,) 
 
 Built with Divine ambition ! in disdain 
 
 Of limit built ! built in the taste of Heaven ! 
 
 Vast concave, ample dome ! wast thou design'd 
 
 A meet apartment for the DEITY \ 785 
 
 Not so ; that thought alone thy State impairs, 
 
 Thy Lofty sinks, and shallows thy Profound, 
 
 And straitens thy Diffusive ; dwarfs the whole, 
 
 And makes an universe an orrery. 
 
 BUT when I drop mine eye, and look on man, 790 
 
 Thy right regain'd, thy grandeur is restored, 
 Nature ! wide flies off the' expanding round.
 
 286 RIGHT THOUGHTS. NIOHT IX. 
 
 As when whole magazines at once are fired, 
 
 The smitten air is hollow'd by the blow ; 
 
 The vast displosion dissipates the clouds ; 796 
 
 Shock'd ether's billows dash the distant skies : 
 
 Thus (but far more) the' expanding round flies off, 
 
 And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb, 
 
 Might teem with new creation ; re-inflamed 
 
 Thy luminaries triumph, and assume 800 
 
 Divinity themselves. Nor was it strange, 
 
 Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp, 
 
 Such godlike glory, stole the style of gods 
 
 From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense ; 
 
 For, sure, to sense they truly are Divine, 805 
 
 And half-absolved idolatry from guilt ; 
 
 Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 
 
 In those who put forth all they had of man 
 
 Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher ; 
 
 But, weak of wing, on planets perch'd ; and thought 810 
 
 What was their Highest, must be their Adored. 
 
 BUT they how weak, who could no higher mount ! 
 
 And are there then, LORENZO, those to whom 
 
 Unseen and unexistent are the same ; 
 
 And, if incomprehensible is join'd, 815 
 
 Who dare pronounce it madness to believe ? 
 
 Why has the mighty BUILDEK thrown aside 
 
 All measure in His work ; stretch'd out His line 
 
 So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole 1 
 
 Then, (as He took delight in wide extremes,) 820 
 
 Deep in the bosom of His universe, 
 
 Dropp'd down that reasoning mite, that insect, man, 
 
 To crawl, and gaze, and wonder, at the scene 1 
 
 That man might ne'er presume to plead amazement 
 
 For disbelief of wonders in Himself. 825 
 
 Shall GOD be less miraculous than what 
 
 His hand has form'dl Shall mysteries descend
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 287 
 
 From TJnmysterious ? things more elevate 
 
 Be more familiar 1 uncreated lie 
 
 More obvious than created, to the grasp 830 
 
 Of human thought 1 The more of wonderful 
 
 Is heard in Him, the more we should assent. 
 
 Could we conceive Him, GOD He could not be ; 
 
 Or He not GOD, or we could not be men. 
 
 A GOD alone can comprehend a GOD : 835 
 
 Man's distance, how immense ! On such a theme, 
 
 Know this, LORENZO, (seem it ne'er so strange,) 
 
 Nothing can satisfy but what confounds ; 
 
 Nothing but what astonishes is true. 
 
 The scene thou seest attests the truth I sing, 840 
 
 And every star sheds light upon thy Creed. 
 
 These stars, this furniture, this cost of Heaven, 
 
 If but reported, thou hadst ne'er believed ; 
 
 But thine eye tells thee the romance is true. 
 
 The Grand of Nature is the' Almighty's oath, 845 
 
 In Season's court, to silence Unbelief. 
 
 How my mind, opening at this scene, imbibes 
 
 The moral emanations of the skies, 
 
 While nought, perhaps, LOKENZO less admires ! 
 
 Has the Great Sovereign sent ten thousand worlds 850 
 
 To tell us He resides above them all, 
 
 In glory's unapproachable recess 1 
 
 And dare Earth's bold inhabitants deny 
 
 The sumptuous, the magnific embassy 
 
 A moment's audience ] Turn we? nor will hear 855 
 
 From whom they come, or what they would impart 
 
 For man's emolument, sole cause that stoops 
 
 Their grandeur to man's eye ] LORENZO, rouse ! 
 
 Let thought, awaken'd, take the lightning's wing, 
 
 And glance from east to west, from pole to pole. 860 
 
 Who sees, but is confounded or convinced, 
 
 Renounces Reason, or a GOD adores 1
 
 238 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Mankind was sent into the world to see : 
 
 Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; 
 
 That obvious science asks small learning's aid. 865 
 
 Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar 1 
 
 Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns ] 
 
 Or travel history's enormous round ? 
 
 Nature no such hard task enjoins : she gave 
 
 A make to man directive of his thought ; 870 
 
 A make set upright, pointing to the stars, 
 
 As who should say, " Read thy chief lesson there." 
 
 Too late to read this manuscript of heaven, 
 
 When, like a parchment scroll, shrunk up by flames, 
 
 It folds LORENZO'S lesson from his sight ! 875 
 
 LESSON how various ! Not the GOD alone, 
 
 I see His ministers ; I see, diffused 
 
 In radiant orders, essences sublime, 
 
 Of various offices, of various plume, 
 
 In heavenly liveries distinctiy clad, 880 
 
 Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold, 
 
 Or all commix'd ; they stand, with wings outspread, 
 
 Listening to catch the Master's least command, 
 
 And fly through Nature ere the moment ends ; 
 
 Numbers innumerable 1 Well-conceived 885 
 
 By Pagan and by Christian ! O'er each sphere 
 
 Presides an angel, to direct its course, 
 
 And feed, or fan, its flames ; or to discharge 
 
 Other high trusts unknown. For who can see 
 
 Such pomp of matter, and imagine Mind, 890 
 
 For which alone Inanimate was made, 
 
 More sparingly dispensed ] that nobler son, 
 
 Far liker the great SIRE ! 'T is thus the skies 
 
 Inform us of superiors numberless, 
 
 As much in excellence above mankind, 895 
 
 As above earth in magnitude the spheres. 
 
 These, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us ;
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 289 
 
 In a throng'd theatre are all our deeds ; 
 
 Perhaps a thousand demi-gods descend 
 
 On every beam we see, to walk with men. 900 
 
 Awful reflection ! strong restraint from ill ! 
 
 YET, here, our virtue finds still stronger aid 
 From these ethereal glories Sense surveys. 
 Something, like magic, strikes from this blue vault : 
 With just attention is it view'd] We feel 905 
 
 A sudden succour, unimplored, unthought : 
 Nature herself does half the work of man. 
 Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks, 
 The promontory's height, the depth profound 
 Of subterranean, excavated grots, 910 
 
 Black-brow'd, and vaulted high, and yawning wide 
 From Nature's structure, or the scoop of Time ; 
 If ample of dimension, vast of size, 
 E'en these an aggrandizing impulse give ; 
 Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights 915 
 
 E'en these infuse. But what of Vast in these ] 
 Nothing : or we must own the skies forgot. 
 Much less in Art. Vain Art ! thou pigmy power ! 
 How dost thou swell, and strut, with human pride, 
 To show thy littleness ! What childish toys, 920 
 
 Thy watery columns squirted to the clouds ! 
 Thy basin'd rivers, and imprison'd seas ! 
 Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ! 
 Thy hundred-gated capitals ! or those 
 Where three days' travel left us much to ride ; 925 
 
 Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought, 
 Arches triumphal, theatres immense, 
 Or nodding gardens pendent in mid-air, 
 Or temples proud to meet their gods half-way ! 
 Yet these affect us in no common kind. 930 
 
 What then the force of such superior scenes 1 
 Enter a temple, it will strike an awe : 
 c c
 
 290 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 What awe from this the DEITY has built ? 
 
 A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives : 
 
 The touch'd spectator wishes to be wise : 935 
 
 In a bright mirror His own hands have made, 
 
 Here we see something like the face of GOD. 
 
 Seems it not then enough to say, LORENZO, 
 
 To man abandon'd, " Hast thou seen the skies ] " 
 
 AND yet, so thwarted Nature's kind design 940 
 
 By daring man, he makes her sacred awe 
 
 (That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 
 
 To more than common guilt, and quite inverts 
 
 Celestial Art's intent. The trembling Stars 
 
 See Crimes gigantic stalking through the gloom 945 
 
 With front erect, that hide their head by day, 
 
 And making night still darker by their deeds. 
 
 Slumbering in covert till the shades descend, 
 
 Rapine and Murder, link'd, now prowl for prey. 
 
 The miser earths his treasure ; and the thief, 950 
 
 Watching the mole, half-beggars him ere morn. 
 
 Now Plots and foul Conspiracies awake ; 
 
 And, muffling up their horrors from the moon, 
 
 Havoc and devastation they prepare, 
 
 And kingdoms tottering in the field of blood. 955 
 
 l^ow sons of riot in mid-revel rage. 
 
 What shall I do ? suppress it ? or proclaim ? 
 
 Why sleeps the thunder ? Now, LORENZO, now, 
 
 His best friend's couch the rank adulterer 
 
 Ascends secure, and laughs at gods and men. 960 
 
 Preposterous madmen, void of fear or shame, 
 
 Lay their crimes bare to these chaste eyes of Heaven ; 
 
 Yet shrink and shudder at a mortal's sight. 
 
 Were moon and stars for villains only made ? 
 
 To guide, yet screen, them with tenebrious light] 965 
 
 No ; they were made to fashion the Sublime 
 
 Of human hearts, and wiser make the wise.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 291 
 
 THOSE ends were answer'd once, when mortals lived 
 
 Of stronger wing, of aquiline ascent 
 
 In theory sublime. how unlike 970 
 
 Those vermin of the night, this moment sung, 
 
 Who crawl on earth, and on her venom feed ! 
 
 Those ancient sages, human stars ! they met 
 
 Their brothers of the skies at midnight hour ; 
 
 Their counsel ask'd ; and, what they ask'd, obey'd. 975 
 
 The Stagyrite, and PLATO, he who drank 
 
 The poison'd bowl, and he of Tusculum, 
 
 With him of Corduba, (immortal names !) 
 
 In these unbounded and elysian walks, 
 
 An area fit for GODS and godlike men, 980 
 
 They took their nightly round through radiant paths 
 
 By seraphs trod ; instructed, chiefly, thus 
 
 To tread in their bright footsteps here below ; 
 
 To walk in worth still brighter than the skies. 
 
 There they contracted their contempt of Earth ; 985 
 
 Of hopes eternal kindled there the fire ; 
 
 There, as in near approach, they glow'd, and grew 
 
 (Great visitants !) more intimate with GOD, 
 
 More worth* to men, more joyous to themselves. 
 
 Through various virtues, they with ardour ran 990 
 
 The zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. 
 
 IN Christian hearts, for a Pagan zeal ! 
 
 A needful but opprobrious prayer ! As much 
 
 Our ardour less, as greater is our light. 
 
 How monstrous this in morals ! Scarce more strange 995 
 
 Would this phenomenon in Nature strike, 
 
 A sun that froze her^ or a star that warm'd ! 
 
 WHAT taught these heroes of the moral world ? 
 To these thou givest thy praise, give credit too. 
 
 * Employed here as an adjective. EDIT. 
 t In the early quarto impressions it is us. EDIT. 
 2 c 2
 
 292 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 These doctors ne'er were pension' d to deceive thee ; 1000 
 
 And Pagan tutors are thy taste. They taught, 
 
 That narrow views betray to misery : 
 
 That wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
 
 That Virtue rose from Nature, ponder'd well, 
 
 The single base of Virtue built to heaven : 1005 
 
 That GOD and Nature our attention claim : 
 
 That Nature is the glass reflecting GOD, 
 
 As by the sea reflected is the Sun, 
 
 Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere : 
 
 That Mind immortal loves immortal aims : 1010 
 
 That boundless Mind affects a boundless space : 
 
 That vast surveys, and the Sublime of things, 
 
 The soul assimilate, and make her great : 
 
 That, therefore, Heaven her glories, as a fund 
 
 Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 1015 
 
 Such are their doctrines ; such the Night inspired. 
 
 AND what more true 1 What truth of greater weight 1 
 
 The Soul of man was made to walk the skies ; 
 
 Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
 
 There, disencumber'd from her chains, the ties 1020 
 
 Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
 
 There freely can respire, dilate, extend, 
 
 In full proportion let loose all her powers, 
 
 And, undeluded, grasp at something great. 
 
 Nor as a stranger does she wander there ; 1 325 
 
 But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays ; 
 
 Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own ; 
 
 Dives deep in their economy Divine, 
 
 Sits high in judgment on their various laws, 
 
 And, like a master, judges not amiss. 1030 
 
 Hence greatly pleased, and justly proud, the Soul 
 
 Grows conscious of her birth celestial ; breathes 
 
 More life, more vigour, in her native air ; 
 
 And feels herself at home among the stars ; 
 
 And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. 1035
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 293 
 
 WHAT call we then the Firmament, LORENZO ? 
 
 As Earth the body, since the Skies sustain 
 
 The soul with food, that gives immortal life, 
 
 Call it " the noble pasture of the Mind," 
 
 Which there expatiates, strengthens, ai:d exults, 1040 
 
 And riots through the luxuries of thought. 
 
 Call it " the garden of the DEITY," 
 
 Blossom'd with stars, redundant in the growth 
 
 Of fruit ambrosial, moral fruit to man. 
 
 Call it "the breast-plate of the true High Priest," 1045 
 
 Ardent with gems oracular, that give, 
 
 In points of highest moment, right response ; 
 
 And ill neglected, if we prize our peace. 
 
 THUS have we found a true astrology : 
 
 Thus have we found a new and noble sense 1050 
 
 In which alone stars govern human fates. 
 
 that the stars (as some have feign'd) let fall 
 
 Bloodshed and havoc on embattled realms, 
 
 And rescued monarchs from so black a guilt ! 
 
 BOURBON ! this wish how generous in a foe ! 1055 
 
 Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god, 
 
 And stick thy deathless name among the stars, 
 
 For mighty conquests on a needle's point ] 
 
 Instead of forging chains for foreigners, 
 
 Bastile thy tutor. Grandeur all thy aim ! 1060 
 
 As yet thou know'st not what it is : how great, 
 
 How glorious then appears the mind of man, 
 
 When in it all the stars and planets roll ! 
 
 And what it seems it is ; great objects make 
 
 Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge ; 1005 
 
 Those still more godlike, as these more Divine. 
 
 AND more Divine than these thou canst not see. 
 Dazzled, o'erpower'd, with the delicious draught 
 Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel 
 2 c 3
 
 294 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT TX. 
 
 From thought to thought, inebriate, without end ! 1070 
 
 An Eden this, a PARADISE unlost ! 
 
 I meet the DEITY in every view, 
 
 And tremble at my nakedness before Him ! 
 
 that I could but reach the tree of life ! 
 
 For here it grows, unguarded from our taste ; 1075 
 
 No flaming sword denies our entrance here ; 
 
 Would man but gather, he might live for ever. 
 
 LORENZO, much of moral hast thou seen. 
 
 Of curious arts art. thou more fond ? Then mark 
 
 The mathematic glories of the skies, 108C 
 
 In number, weight, and measure, all ordain'd. 
 
 LORENZO'S boasted builders, Chance and Fate, 
 
 Are left to finish his aerial towers : 
 
 Wisdom and Choice their well-known characters 
 
 Here deep impress ; and claim it for their own. 1085 
 
 Though splendid all, no splendour void of use ; 
 
 Use rivals Beauty ; Art contends with Power ; 
 
 No wanton waste amid effuse expense ; 
 
 The great ECONOMIST adjusting all 
 
 To prudent pomp, magnificently wise. 1090 
 
 How rich the prospect, and for ever new ! 
 
 And newest to the man that views it most ; 
 
 For newer still in infinite succeeds. 
 
 Then, these aerial racers, how swift ! 
 
 How the shaft loiters from the strongest string ! 1095 
 
 Spirit alone can distance the career. 
 
 Orb above orb ascending without end ! 
 
 Circle in circle, without end, enclosed ! 
 
 Wheel within wheel ; EZEKIEL ! like to thine ! 
 
 Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream ; 1100 
 
 Though seen, we labour to believe it true ! 
 
 What involution ! What extent ! What swarms 
 
 Of worlds, that laugh at Earth ! immensely great ! 
 
 Immensely distant from each other's spheres !
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 295 
 
 What then the wondrous space through which they roll ? 
 At once it quite ingulfs all human thought ; 1106 
 
 'T is Comprehension's absolute defeat. 
 
 NOB think thou seest a wild disorder here : 
 
 Through this illustrious chaos to the sight, 
 
 Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. 1110 
 
 The path prescribed, inviolably kept, 
 
 Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind. 
 
 Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere. 
 
 What knots are tied ! How soon are they dissolved, 
 
 And set the seeming married planets free ! 1115 
 
 They rove for ever, without error rove ; 
 
 Confusion unconfused ! Nor less admire 
 
 This tumult untumultuous ! all on wing, 
 
 In motion all ! yet what profound repose ! 
 
 What fervid action, yet no noise ! as awed 1120 
 
 To silence by the presence of their LORD : 
 
 Or hush'd, by His command, in love to man, 
 
 And bid let fall soft beams on human rest, 
 
 Restless themselves. On yon cerulean plain, 
 
 In exultation to their GOD, and thine, 1125 
 
 They dance, they sing eternal jubilee, 
 
 Eternal celebration of His praise. 
 
 But, since their song arrives not at our ear, 
 
 Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight 
 
 Fair hieroglyphic of His peerless power. 1130 
 
 Mark, how the labyrinthian turns they take, 
 
 The circles intricate, and mystic maze, 
 
 Weave the grand cipher of Omnipotence ; 
 
 To gods, how great ! how legible to man ! 
 
 LEAVES so much wonder greater wonder still ] 1135 
 
 Where are the pillars that support the skies 1 
 
 What more than Atlantean shoulder props 
 
 The* incumbent load ? What magic, what strange art,
 
 296 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 In fluid air these ponderous orbs sustains ? 
 
 Who would not think them hung in golden chains ] 1140 
 
 And so they are, in the high will of Heaven, 
 
 Which fixes all ; makes adamant of air, 
 
 Or air of adamant ; makes all of nought, 
 
 Or nought of all ; if such the dread decree. 
 
 IMAGINE from their deep foundations torn 1145 
 
 The most gigantic sons of Earth, the broad 
 
 And towering Alps, all toss'd into the sea ; 
 
 And, light as down, or volatile as air, 
 
 Their bulks enormous dancing on the waves, 
 
 In time and measure exquisite ; while all 1150 
 
 The winds, in emulation of the spheres, 
 
 Tune their sonorous instruments aloft, 
 
 The concert swell, and animate the ball : 
 
 Would this appear amazing 1 What then worlds, 
 
 In a far thinner element sustain' d, 1155 
 
 And acting the same part, with greater skill, 
 
 More rapid movement, and for noblest ends '! 
 
 MORE obvious ends to pass, are not these stars 
 
 The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones, 
 
 On which angelic delegates of Heaven, 1160 
 
 At certain periods, as the SOVEREIGN nods, 
 
 Discharge high trusts of vengeance or of love ; 
 
 To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design, 
 
 And acts most solemn still more solemnize 1 
 
 YE CITIZENS of air ! what ardent thanks, 1165 
 
 What full effusion of the grateful heart, 
 
 Is due from man indulged in such a sight ! 
 
 A sight so noble, and a sight so kind ! 
 
 It drops new truths at every new survey ! 
 
 Feels not LORENZO something stir within, 1170 
 
 That sweeps away all period ? As these spheres 
 
 Measure duration, they no less inspire
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 297 
 
 The godlike hope of ages without end. 
 
 The boundless space, through which these rovers take 
 
 Their restless roam, suggests the sister-thought 1175 
 
 Of boundless time. Thus by kind Nature's skill, 
 
 To man unlabour'd, that important guest, 
 
 ETERNITY, finds entrance at the sight : 
 
 And an eternity for man ordain'd, 
 
 Or these his destined midnight counsellors, 1180 
 
 The stars, had never whisper'd it to man. 
 
 NATURE informs, but ne'er insults, her sons. 
 
 Could she then kindle the most ardent wish 
 
 To disappoint it 1 That is blasphemy. 
 
 Thus of thy Creed a second article, 1185 
 
 Momentous as the' existence of a GOD, 
 
 Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought : 
 
 And thou mayst read thy soul immortal here. 
 
 HEBE, then, LORENZO ! on these glories dwell ; 
 
 Nor want the gilt, illuminated roof, 1190 
 
 That calls the wretched gay to dark delights. 
 
 Assemblies 1 This is one divinely bright ; 
 
 Here, unendanger'd in health, wealth, or fame, 
 
 Eange through the fairest, and the SULTAN scorn. 
 
 He, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair 1195 
 
 As that which on his turban awes a world ; 
 
 And thinks the Moon is proud to copy him. 
 
 Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give, 
 
 A mind superior to the charms of power. 
 
 Thou muffled in delusions of this life ! 1200 
 
 Can yonder Moon turn Ocean in his bed, 
 
 From side to side, in constant ebb and flow, 
 
 And purify from stench his watery realms ? 
 
 And fails her moral influence 1 Wants she power 
 
 To turn LORENZO'S stubborn tide of thought 1205 
 
 From stagnating on earth's infected shore, 
 
 And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart ?
 
 298 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Fails her attraction when it draws to heaven ] 
 
 Nay, and to what thou valuest more, earth's joy? 
 
 Minds elevate, and panting for Unseen, 1210 
 
 And defecate from sense, alone obtain 
 
 Full relish of existence undeflower'd, 
 
 The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss. 
 
 All else on earth amounts to what ] To this : 
 
 " BAB to be suffer'd ; BLESSINGS to be left : " 1215 
 
 Earth's richest inventory boasts no more. 
 
 OP higher scenes be then the call obey'd. 
 
 let me gaze ! Of gazing there 's no end. 
 
 let me think ! Thought too is wilder'd here ; 
 
 In midway flight Imagination tires ; 1220 
 
 Yet soon reprunes her wing to soar anew, 
 
 Her point unable to forbear or gain ; 
 
 So great the pleasure, so profound the plan ! 
 
 A banquet this, where men and angels meet, 
 
 Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heaven. 1225 
 
 How distant some of these nocturnal suns ! 
 
 So distant, (says the sage,) 't were not absurd 
 
 To doubt, if beams, set out at Nature's birth, 
 
 Are yet arrived at this so foreign world ; 
 
 Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. 1230 
 
 An eye of awe and wonder let me roll, 
 
 And roll for ever : who can satiate sight 
 
 In such a scene ? in such an ocean wide 
 
 Of deep astonishment ? where depth, height, breadth, 
 
 Are lost in their extremes ; and where to count 1235 
 
 The thick-sown glories in this field of fire, 
 
 Perhaps a seraph's computation fails. 
 
 Now go, Ambition ! boast thy boundless might 
 
 In conquest o'er the tenth part of a grain. 
 
 AND yet LOEENZO calls for miracles, 1240 
 
 To give his tottering faith a solid base. 
 Why call for less than is already thine 1
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 299 
 
 Thou art no novice in theology : 
 
 What is a miracle ] 'T is a reproach, 
 
 'T is an implicit satire, on mankind ; 1245 
 
 And while it satisfies, it censures too. 
 
 To common sense, great Nature's course proclaims 
 
 A DEITY : when mankind falls asleep, 
 
 A miracle is sent, as an alarm, 
 
 To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again, 1250 
 
 By recent argument, but not more strong. 
 
 Say, which imports more plenitude of power, 
 
 Or Nature's laws to fix, or to repeal ? 
 
 To make a Sun, or stop his mid career ? 
 
 To countermand his orders, and send back 1255 
 
 The flaming courier to the frighted east, 
 
 Wann'd, and astonish'd, at his evening ray ? 
 
 Or bid the Moon, as with her journey tired, 
 
 In Ajalon's soft flowery vale repose ? 
 
 Great things are these ; still greater, to create. 1260 
 
 From ADAM'S bower look down through the whole train 
 
 Of miracles ; resistless is their power ? 
 
 They do not, cannot, more amaze the mind 
 
 Than this, call'd unmiraculous, survey, 
 
 If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen, 1265 
 
 If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed, 
 
 Sees nought but spangles here ; the fool, no more. 
 
 Sayst thou, " The course of Nature governs all ?" 
 
 The course of Nature is the art of GOD. 
 
 The miracles thou call'st for, this attest ; 1270 
 
 For say, could Nature Nature's course control 1 
 
 BUT, miracles apart, who sees HIM not, 
 
 Nature's CONTROLLER, AUTHOR, GUIDE, and END ? 
 
 Who turns his eye on Nature's midnight face 
 
 But must inquire " What hand behind the scene, 1275 
 
 What arm almighty, put these wheeling globes 
 
 In motion, and wound-up the vast machine )
 
 300 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Who rounded in Ms palm these spacious orbs ? 
 
 Who bowl'd them flaming through the dark profound, ' 
 
 Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew, 1280 
 
 Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, 
 
 And set the bosom of old Night on fire, 
 
 Peopled her desert, and made Horror smile ]" 
 
 Or, if the military style delights thee, 
 
 (For stars have fought their battles, leagued with man,) 
 
 "Who marshals this bright host 1 ? enrols their names'? 1286 
 
 Appoints their posts, their marches, and returns, 
 
 Punctual, at stated periods ? Who disbands 
 
 These veteran troops, their final duty done, 
 
 If e'er disbanded ]" HE, whose potent word, 1290 
 
 Like the loud trumpet, levied first their powers 
 
 In Night's inglorious empire, where they slept 
 
 In beds of darkness, arm'd them with fierce flames, 
 
 Arranged and disciplined, and clothed in gold ; 
 
 And call'd them out of Chaos to the field, 1295 
 
 Where now they war with Vice and Unbelief. 
 
 let us join this army ! Joining these 
 
 Will give us hearts intrepid at that hour 
 
 When brighter flames shall cut a darker night ; 
 
 When these strong demonstrations of a GOD 1300 
 
 Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, 
 
 And one eternal curtain cover all ! 
 
 STRUCK at that thought, as new-awaked, I lift 
 
 A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars, 
 
 To man still more propitious ; and their aid 1305 
 
 (Though guiltless of idolatry) implore ; 
 
 Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 
 
 ye dividers of my time ! ye bright 
 
 Accomptants of my days, and months, and years, 
 
 In your fair calendar distinctly mark'd ! 1310 
 
 Since that authentic, radiant register, 
 
 Though man inspects it not, stands good against him ;
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 301 
 
 Since you, and years, roll on, though man stands still ; 
 
 Teach me my days to number, and apply 
 
 My trembling heart to wisdom ; now beyond 1315 
 
 All shadow of excuse for fooling on. 
 
 Age smooths our path to Prudence ; sweeps aside 
 
 The snares keen Appetite and Passion spread 
 
 To catch stray souls ; and woe to that grey head 
 
 Whose folly would undo what Age has done ! 1320 
 
 Aid, then, aid, all ye stars ! Much rather, THOU, 
 
 Great ARTIST ! THOIT, whose finger set aright 
 
 This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, 
 
 Though intervolved, exact ; and pointing out 
 
 Life's rapid and irrevocable flight, 1325 
 
 With such an index fair as none can miss 
 
 Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed. 
 
 Open mine eye, dread DEITY ! to read 
 
 The tacit doctrine of Thy works ; to see 
 
 Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass 1330 
 
 Of worldly wishes. Time, Eternity ! 
 
 ('T is these, mis-measured, ruin all mankind :) 
 
 Set them before me ; let me lay them both 
 
 In equal scale, and learn their various weight. 
 
 Let Time appear a moment as it is : 1335 
 
 And let Eternity's full orb, at once, 
 
 Turn on my soul, and strike it into heaven. 
 
 When shall I see far more than charms me now 1 
 
 Gaze on creation's model in Thy breast 
 
 UnveiFd, nor wonder at the transcript more? 1340 
 
 When this vile foreign dust, which smothers all 
 
 That travel Earth's deep vale, shall I shake off] 
 
 When shall my Soul her incarnation quit, 
 
 And, re-adopted to Thy bless'd embrace, 
 
 Obtain her apotheosis in THEE ? 1345 
 
 DOST think, LORENZO, this is wandering wide ? 
 No : 't is directly striking at the mark :
 
 302 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 To wake thy dead devotion * was my point ; 
 
 And how I bless Night's consecrating shades, 
 
 Which to a temple turn an universe, 1350 
 
 Fill us with great ideas full of heaven, 
 
 And antidote the pestilential earth ! 
 
 In every storm that either frowns or falls, 
 
 What an asylum has the soul in prayer ! 
 
 And what a fane is this, in which to pray ! 1355 
 
 And what a GOD must dwell in such a fane ! 
 
 what a Genius must inform the skies ! 
 
 And is LORENZO'S salamander-heart 
 
 Cold and untouch'd amid these sacred fires ] 
 
 ye nocturnal sparks, ye glowing embers, 1360 
 
 On heaven's broad hearth ! who burn, or burn no more, 
 
 Who blaze, or die, as great JEHOVAH'S breath 
 
 Or blows you, or forbears ; assist my song ; 
 
 Pour your whole influence ; exorcise his heart, 
 
 So long possess'd ; and bring him back to man. 1365 
 
 AND is LORENZO a demurrer still ? 
 
 Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
 
 Truths which, contested, put thy parts to shame. 
 
 Nor shame they more LORENZO'S head than heart ; 
 
 A faithless heart, how despicably small ! 1370 
 
 Too strait aught great or generous to receive ! 
 
 Fill'd with an atom ! fill'd and foul'd with self ! 
 
 And self mistaken ! self, that lasts an hour ! 
 
 Instincts and passions, of the nobler kind, 
 
 Lie suffocated there ! or they alone, 1375 
 
 Reason apart, would wake high hope ; and open, 
 
 To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere 
 
 Where Order, Wisdom, Goodness, Providence, 
 
 Their endless miracles of love display, 
 
 And promise all the truly great desire. 1380 
 
 * Pages 279, 280.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 803 
 
 The mind that would be happy, must be great : 
 
 Great in its wishes ; great in its surveys. 
 
 Extended views a narrow mind extend ; 
 
 Push out its corrugate, expansive make, 
 
 Which, ere long, more than planets shall embrace. 1385 
 
 A man of compass makes a man of worth : 
 
 Divine contemplate, and become Divine. 
 
 As man was made for glory and for bliss, 
 
 All littleness is in approach to woe. 
 
 Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, 1390 
 
 And let-in manhood ; let-in happiness. 
 
 Admit the boundless theatre of thought 
 
 From nothing up to GOD ; which makes a man. 
 
 Take GOD from Nature, nothing great is left ; 
 
 Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees ; 1395 
 
 Man's heart is in a jakes, and loves the mire. 
 
 Emerge from thy profound ; erect thine eye ; 
 
 See thy distress ; how close art thou besieged ! 
 
 Besieged by Nature, the proud sceptic's foe ! 
 
 Enclosed by these innumerable worlds, 1400 
 
 Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind, 
 
 As in a golden net of PROVIDENCE 
 
 How art thou caught, sure captive of Belief ! 
 
 From this thy bless'd captivity what art, 
 
 What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free? 1405 
 
 This scene is Heaven's indulgent violence : 
 
 Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 
 
 What is earth, bosom'd in these ambient orbs, 
 
 But faith in GOD imposed and press'd on man 1 
 
 Darest thou still litigate thy desperate cause, 1410 
 
 Spite of these numerous awful witnesses, 
 
 And doubt the deposition of the Skies?* 
 
 how laborious is thy way to ruin ! 
 
 * This line followed, in the first quarto impression : 
 
 " That bright connexion between hearts and heaven ! " EDIT. 
 2 D 2
 
 304 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 Laborious ? 'T is impracticable quite ; 
 
 To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, 1415 
 
 With all his weight of wisdom, and of will, 
 
 And crime flagitious, I defy a fool. 
 
 Some wish they did ; but no man disbelieves. 
 
 GOD is a Spirit ; spirit cannot strike 
 
 These gross material organs ; GOD by man 1420 
 
 As much is seen as man a GOD can see, 
 
 In these astonishing exploits of power. 
 
 What order, beauty, motion, distance, size ! 
 
 Concertion of design, how exquisite ! 
 
 How complicate in their Divine police ! 1425 
 
 Apt means, great ends, consent to general good ! 
 
 Each attribute of these material gods, 
 
 So long (and that with specious pleas) adored, 
 
 A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought, 
 
 And leads in triumph the whole mind of man. 1430 
 
 LORENZO, this may seem harangue to thee ; 
 
 Such all is apt to seem that thwarts our will. 
 
 And dost thou then demand a simple proof 
 
 Of this great master-moral of the skies, 
 
 Unskill'd, or disinclined, to read it there 1 1435 
 
 Since 't is the basis, and all drops without it, 
 
 Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. 
 
 Such proof insists on an attentive ear ; 
 
 'T will not make one amid a mob of thoughts, 
 
 And, for thy notice, struggle with the world. 1440 
 
 Retire ; the world shut out ; thy thoughts call home ; 
 
 Imagination's airy wing repress ; 
 
 Lock up thy senses ; let no passion stir ; 
 
 Wake all to Reason ; let her reign alone : 
 
 Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth 1445 
 
 Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, 
 
 As I have done, and shall inquire no more. 
 
 In Nature's channel thus the questions run :
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 305 
 
 " WHAT am I ? and from whence ? I nothing know 
 But that I am; and, since I am, conclude 1450 
 
 Something eternal : had there e'er been nought, 
 Nought still had been : eternal there must be. 
 But what eternal 1 Why not human race ] 
 And ADAM'S ancestors without an end ? 
 That '& hard to be conceived, since every link 1455 
 
 Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail ; 
 Can every part depend, and not the whole ? 
 Yet grant it true : new difficulties rise : 
 I 'm still quite out at sea ; nor see the shore. 
 Whence Earth, and these bright orbs ? eternal too 1 
 Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 1461 
 
 Would want some other father ; much design 
 Is seen in all their motions, all their makes ; 
 Design implies intelligence and art : 
 That can't be from themselves or man ; that art 1465 
 Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ] 
 And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man. 
 Who motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
 Shot through vast masses of enormous weight 1 
 Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume 1470 
 
 Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 
 Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 
 Asserting its indisputable right 
 To dance, would form a universe of dust. 
 Has matter none ? Then whence these glorious forms 
 And boundless flights, from shapeless and reposed 1 1476 
 Has matter more than motion 1 Has it thought, 
 Judgment, and genius ? Is it deeply learn'd 
 In mathematics ? Has it framed such laws, 
 Which but to guess, a NEWTON made immortal 1 1480 
 If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, 
 Who think a clod inferior to a man ! 
 If art to form, and counsel to conduct, 
 (And that with greater far than human skill,) 
 2 D 3
 
 806 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Resides not in each block a GODHEAD reigns ! 1485 
 
 Grant, then, invisible, eternal MIND ; 
 
 That granted, all is solved. But, granting that, 
 
 Draw I not o'er me a still darker cloud ] 
 
 Grant I not that which I can ne'er conceive 1 
 
 A Being without origin or end ! 1490 
 
 Hail, human liberty ! There is no GOD. 
 
 Yet why ? On either scheme that knot subsists ; 
 
 Subsist it must, in GOD, or human race : 
 
 If in the last, how many knots beside, 
 
 Indissoluble all ! Why choose it there, 1495 
 
 Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand more 1 
 
 Eeject it where, that chosen, all the rest, 
 
 Dispersed, leave Eeason's whole horizon clear 1 
 
 This is not Eeason's dictate ; Eeason says, 
 
 'Close with the side where one grain turns the scale.' 1500 
 
 What vast preponderance is here ! Can Eeason 
 
 With louder voice exclaim ' Believe a GOD ?' 
 
 And Beason heard is the sole mark of man. 
 
 What things impossible must man think true 
 
 On any other system ! And how strange 1505 
 
 To disbelieve through mere credulity ! " 
 
 IF in this chain LORENZO finds no flaw, 
 
 Let it for ever bind him to belief. 
 
 And where the link in which a flaw he finds *? 
 
 And if a GOD there is, that GOD how great ! 1510 
 
 How great that POWER, whose providential care 
 
 Through these bright orbs' dark centres darts a ray, 
 
 Of Nature universal threads the whole, 
 
 And hangs Creation, like a precious gem, 
 
 Though little, on the footstool of His throne ! 1515 
 
 THAT little gem, how large ! A weight let fall 
 
 From a fix'd star, in ages can it reach 
 
 This distant earth ] Say, then, LORENZO, where,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. S07 
 
 Where ends this mighty building ? Where begin 
 
 The suburbs of creation! Where the wall 1520 
 
 Whose battlements look o'er into the vale 
 
 Of non-existence, NOTHING'S strange abode 1 * 
 
 Say, at what point of space JEHOVAH dropp'd 
 
 His slacken'd line, and laid His balance by ; 
 
 Weigh'd worlds, and measured Infinite, no morel 1525 
 
 Where rears His terminating pillar high 
 
 Its extra-mundane head ; and says to gods, 
 
 In characters illustrious as the sun ? 
 
 I stand, the plan's proud period ; I pronounce 
 
 TJie work accomplish 'd ; the Creation dosed : 1 530 
 
 Shout, all ye gods! nor shout, ye gods, alone ; 
 
 Of all that lives, or, if devoid of life, 
 
 That rests, or rolls, ye heights and depths, resound! 
 
 Resound! resound! ye depths and heights, resound! 
 
 HARD are those questions'! Answer harder still. 1535 
 
 Is this the sole exploit, the single birth, 
 
 The solitary son, of Power Divine 1 
 
 Or has the' Almighty FATHER, with a breath, 
 
 Impregnated the womb of distant space ] 
 
 Has He not bid, in various provinces, 1540 
 
 Brother-creations the dark bowels burst 
 
 Of Night primeval ; barren now no more 1 
 
 And He the central Sun, transpiercing all 
 
 Those giant-generations, which disport 
 
 And dance, as motes, in His meridian ray; 1545 
 
 That ray withdrawn, benighted, or absorb 'd 
 
 In that abyss of horror whence they sprung ; 
 
 While Chaos triumphs, repossess'd of all 
 
 * In the first quarto impression these three lines followed : 
 " Dread, bottomless ! Amazement ! how it yawns ! 
 How shuddering Fancy sickens and recoils ! 
 And is it there LORENZO hopes to dwell ? " EDIT.
 
 308 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Eival Creation ravish'd from his throne ] 
 
 CHAOS! of Nature both the womb and grave ! 1550 
 
 THINK'ST thou my scheme, LORENZO, spreads too wide ] 
 
 Is this extravagant] No ; this is just ; 
 
 Just in conjecture, though 't were false in fact. 
 
 If 't is an error, 't is an error sprung 
 
 From noble root, high thought of the MOST HIGH. 1555 
 
 But wherefore error 1 Who can prove it such ? 
 
 He that can set OMNIPOTENCE a bound. 
 
 Can man conceive beyond what GOD can do ? 
 
 Nothing but quite impossible is hard. 
 
 He summons into being, with like ease, 1560 
 
 A whole creation, and a single grain. 
 
 Speaks He the word ] a thousand worlds are born ! 
 
 A thousand worlds ? There 's space for millions more ! 
 
 And in what space can His great fiat fail ? 
 
 Condemn me not, cold critic ! but indulge 1565 
 
 The warm imagination. Why condemn ] 
 
 Why not indulge such thoughts as swell our hearts 
 
 With fuller admiration of that Power 
 
 Who gives our hearts with such high thoughts to swell] 
 
 Why not indulge in His augmented praise ? 1570 
 
 Darts not His glory a still brighter ray, 
 
 The less is left to Chaos, and the realms 
 
 Of hideous Night, where Fancy strays aghast, 
 
 And, though most talkative, makes no report 1 
 
 STILL seems my thought enormous ] Think again : 
 
 Experience' self shall aid thy lame belief. 1576 
 
 Glasses that revelation to the sight ! 
 
 Have they not led us deep in the disclose 
 
 Of fine-spun Nature, exquisitely small, 
 
 And, though demonstrated, still ill-conceived] 1580 
 
 If then, on the reverse, the mind would mount 
 
 In magnitude, what mind can mount too far,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 309 
 
 To keep the balance, and Creation poise 1 
 
 Defect alone can err on such a theme. 
 
 What is too great, if we the Cause survey ? 1585 
 
 Stupendous ARCHITECT ! THOU, THOU art all ! 
 
 My soul flies up and down in thoughts of THEE, 
 
 And finds herself but at the centre still ! 
 
 I AM, Thy name ! existence, all Thine own ! 
 
 Creation 's nothing ; flatter 'd much, if styled 1590 
 
 " The thin, the fleeting atmosphere of GOD." 
 
 FOR the voice of what ? of whom ] What voice 
 
 Can answer to my wants, in such ascent 
 
 As dares to deem one universe too small 1 
 
 Tell me, LORENZO ! (for now Fancy glows, 1595 
 
 Fired in the vortex of Almighty power,) 
 
 Is not this home-creation, in the map 
 
 Of universal Nature, as a speck, 
 
 Like fair BRITANNIA in our little ball ; 
 
 Exceeding fair, and glorious, for its size, 1600 
 
 But, elsewhere, far out-measured, far outshone 1 
 
 In Fancy (for the fact beyond us lies) 
 
 Canst thou not figure it, an isle, almost 
 
 Too small for notice, in the vast of being ; 
 
 Sever'd by mighty seas of unbuilt space 1605 
 
 From other realms ; from ample continents 
 
 Of higher life, where nobler natives dwell ; 
 
 Less northern, less remote from DEITY, 
 
 Glowing beneath the line of the SUPREME ; 
 
 Where souls in excellence make haste, put forth 1610 
 
 Luxuriant growths ; nor the late autumn wait 
 
 Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods ] 
 
 YET why drown Fancy in such depths as these ? 
 Beturn, presumptuous rover, and confess 
 The bounds of man, nor blame them as too small. 1615 
 Enjoy we not full scope in what ib seen 1
 
 310 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 Full ample the dominions of the Sun ! 
 
 Full glorious to behold ! How far, how wide, 
 
 The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, 
 
 Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, 1620 
 
 Farther and faster than a thought can fly, 
 
 And feeds his planets with eternal fires ! 
 
 This Heliopolis, by Greater far 
 
 Than the proud tyrant of the Nile, was built ; 
 
 And He alone, who built it, can destroy. 1625 
 
 Beyond this city, why strays human thought 1 
 
 One Wonderful, enough for man to know ! 
 
 One Infinite, enough for man to range ! 
 
 One firmament, enough for man to read ! 
 
 what voluminous instruction here ! 1630 
 
 What page of wisdom is denied him ? None ; 
 
 If learning his chief lesson makes him wise. 
 
 Nor is instruction here our only gain : 
 
 There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, 
 
 Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 1 635 
 
 How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
 
 With what authority it gives its charge, 
 
 Remonstrating great truths in style sublime, 
 
 Though silent, loud ! heard earth around ; above 
 
 The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell : 1640 
 
 Hell has her wonder, though too proud to praise. 
 
 Is Earth, then, more infernal ] Has she those 
 
 Who neither praise, LORENZO, nor admire 1 
 
 LORENZO'S admiration, pre-engaged, 
 
 Ne'er ask'd the moon one question ; never held 1645 
 
 Least correspondence with a single star ; 
 
 Ne'er rear'd an altar to the queen of heaven 
 
 Walking in brightness ; or her train adored. 
 
 Their sublunary rivals have long since 
 
 Engross'd his whole devotion ; stars malign, 1650 
 
 Which make their fond astronomer run mad,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 311 
 
 Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart ; 
 
 Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace 
 
 To momentary madness, call'd delight.* 
 
 Idolater more gross than ever kiss'd 1655 
 
 The lifted hand to LUNA, or pour'd out 
 
 The blood to JOVE ! THOU, to whom belongs 
 
 All sacrifice ! Thou great JOVE unfeign'd ! 
 
 DIVINE INSTRUCTOR ! Thy first volume this 
 
 For man's perusal ! all in CAPITALS ! 1660 
 
 In moon and stars (Heaven's golden alphabet .') 
 
 Emblazed to seize the sight ; who runs may read ; 
 
 Who reads can understand. 'T is unconfmed 
 
 To Christian land or Jewry ; fairly writ 
 
 In language universal to MANKIND : 1 665 
 
 A language lofty to the learn'd, yet plain 
 
 To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 
 
 Or from its husk strike out the bounding grain : 
 
 A language worthy the GREAT MIND that speaks ! 
 
 Preface and comment to the sacred page ! 1670 
 
 Which oft refers its reader to the skies, 
 
 As pre-supposing his first lesson there, 
 
 And Scripture's self a fragment, that unread. 
 
 Stupendous book of wisdom to the wise ! 
 
 Stupendous book ! and open'd, NIGHT, by thee. 1 675 
 
 Br thee much open'd, I confess, Night ! 
 
 Yet more I wish ; but how shall I prevail 1 
 
 Say, gentle Night, whose modest, maiden beams 
 
 Give us a new creation, and present 
 
 The world's great picture soften'd to the sight ; 1680 
 
 Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent still, 
 
 Say, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 
 
 Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
 
 * This line was first inserted in the octavo impression of 1749. EDIT.
 
 312 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 Worlds beyond number, worlds conceal'd by day 
 
 Behind the proud and envious star of noon ! 1685 
 
 Canst thou not draw a deeper scene 1 and show 
 
 The mighty POTENTATE, to whom belong 
 
 These rich regalia pompously display'd 
 
 To kindle that high hope ? Like him of Uz, 
 
 I gaze around ; I search on every side : 1690 
 
 for a glimpse of HIM my soul adores ! 
 As the chased hart, amid the desert waste, 
 
 Pants for the living stream ; for HIM who made her 
 
 So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank 
 
 Of sublunary joys. Say, goddess, where ] 1695 
 
 Where blazes His bright court ] Where burns His throne ? 
 
 Thou know'st, for thou art near Him ; by thee, round 
 
 His grand pavilion, sacred Fame reports 
 
 The sable curtains drawn. If not, can none 
 
 Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, 1700 
 
 Who travel far, discover where He dwells ? 
 
 A star His dwelling pointed out below. 
 
 Ye Pleiades, Arcturus, Mazzaroth, 
 
 And thou, Orion, of still keener eye ! 
 
 Say, ye who guide the wilder'd in the waves, 1705 
 
 And bring them out of tempest into port ! 
 
 On which hand must I bend my course to find Him ? 
 
 These courtiers keep the secret of their KING ; 
 
 1 wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. 
 
 I WAKE ; and, waking, climb Night's radiant scale, 1710 
 From sphere to sphere ; the steps by Nature set 
 For man's ascent, at once to tempt and aid ; 
 To tempt his eye, and aid his towering thought, 
 Till it arrives at the GREAT GOAL of all. 
 
 IN ardent Contemplation's rapid car, 1715 
 
 From earth, as from my barrier, I set out.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 313 
 
 How swift I mount ! Diminished earth recedes ; 
 
 I pass the moon ; and from her further side 
 
 Pierce heaven's blue curtain ; strike into Remote ; 
 
 Where, with his lifted tube, the subtle sage 1720 
 
 His artificial airy journey takes, 
 
 And to celestial lengthens human sight. 
 
 I pause at every planet on my road, 
 
 And ask for HIM who gives their orbs to roll, 
 
 Their foreheads fair to shine. From SATURN'S ring, 1725 
 
 In which of earths an army might be lost, 
 
 With the bold comet take my bolder flight 
 
 Amid those sovereign glories of the skies, 
 
 Of independent, native lustre proud ! 
 
 The souls of systems, and the lords of life, 1730 
 
 Through their wide empires ! What behold I now 1 
 
 A wilderness of wonders burning round, 
 
 Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres, 
 
 Perhaps the villas of descending gods ! 
 
 Nor halt I here ; my toil is but begun, 1735 
 
 'T is but the threshold of the DEITY, 
 
 Or far beneath it I am grovelling still.* 
 
 Nor is it strange ; I built on a mistake : 
 
 The grandeur of His works, whence Folly sought 
 
 For aid, to Reason sets His glory higher ; 1740 
 
 Who built thus high for worms, (mere worms to Him,) 
 
 where, LORENZO, must the BUILDER dwell 1 
 
 PAUSE, then ; and, for a moment, here respire 
 
 If human thought can keep its station here. 
 
 Where am I ] Where is Earth 1 Nay, where art thou, 1745 
 
 Sun 1 ? Is the Sun turn'd recluse 1 ? And are 
 
 His boasted expeditions short to mine 1 
 
 To mine, how short ! On Nature's Alps I stand, 
 
 * This line follows in the early quarto impressions : 
 
 " Grovelling in elevation few can reach ! " EDIT. 
 E E
 
 314 RIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And see a thousand firmaments beneath, 
 
 A thousand systems, as a thousand grains ! 1750 
 
 So much a stranger, and so late arrived, 
 
 How can man's curious spirit not inquire, 
 
 What are the natives of this world sublime, 
 
 Of this so foreign, unterrestrial sphere, 
 
 Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd? 1755 
 
 " YE, as distant from my little home 
 
 As swiftest sunbeams in an age can fly ! 
 
 Far from my native element I roam, 
 
 In quest of New and Wonderful to man. 
 
 What province this of His immense domain, 1760 
 
 Whom all obeys ? Or mortals here, or gods ? 
 
 Ye borderers on the coasts of bliss, what are you 1 
 
 A colony from heaven? or only raised, 
 
 By frequent visit from heaven's neighbouring realms, 
 
 To secondary gods, and half Divine ? 1765 
 
 Whate'er your nature, this is past dispute, 
 
 Far other life you live, far other tongue 
 
 You talk, far other thought, perhaps, you think, 
 
 Than man. How various are the works of God ! 
 
 But say, what thought! Is Reason here enthroned, 1770 
 
 And absolute 1 or Sense in arms against her ? 
 
 Have you two lights 7 or need you no reveal'd ? 
 
 Enjoy your happy realms their golden age ? 
 
 And had your EDEN an abstemious EVE ] 
 
 Our EVE'S fair daughters prove their pedigree, 1775 
 
 And ask their ADAMS, ' Who would not be wise ? ' 
 
 Or, if your mother fell, are you redeem'd ] 
 
 And if redeem'd, is your Redeemer scorn'd 1 
 
 Is this your final residence ? If not, 
 
 Change you your scene, translated ? or by death 1 1780 
 
 And if by death, what death ? Know you disease 1 
 
 Or horrid war 1 With war, this fatal hour, 
 
 EUROPA groans (so call we a small field,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 315 
 
 Where kings run mad). In our world DEATH deputes 
 Intemperance to do the work of Age, 1785 
 
 And, hanging up the quiver Nature gave him, 
 As slow of execution, for despatch 
 Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay 
 Their sheep, (the silly sheep they fleeced before,) 
 And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. 1790 
 
 Sit all your executioners on thrones 1 
 With you, can rage for plunder make a GOD, 
 And bloodshed wash out every other stain ] 
 But you, perhaps, can't bleed : from matter gross 
 Your spirits clean are delicately clad 1795 
 
 In fine-spun ether, privileged to soar, 
 Unloaded, uninfected : how unlike 
 The lot of man ! How few of human race 
 By their own mud unmurder'd ! How we wage 
 Self-war eternal ! Is your painful day 1800 
 
 Of hardy conflict o'er ? or are you still 
 Eaw candidates at school ] And have you those 
 Who disaflect reversions, as with us ? 
 But what are we 1 You never heard of man, 
 Or earth ; the Bedlam of the universe ! 1805 
 
 Where Keason (undiseased with you) runs mad, 
 And nurses Folly's children as her own ; 
 Fond of the foulest. In the sacred mount 
 Of holiness, where Reason is pronounced 
 Infallible ; and thunders, like a god ; 1810 
 
 E'en there, by saints the demons are outdone : 
 What these think wrong, our saints refine to right ; 
 And kindly teach dull Hell her own black arts : 
 SATAN, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. 
 But this how strange to you, who know not man !. 1815 
 Has the least rumour of our race arrived] 
 Call'd here ELIJAH, in his flaming car ] 
 Pass'd by you the good ENOCH, on his road 
 To those fair fields, whence LUCIFER was hurl'd ; 
 2 E 2
 
 316 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Who brush'd, perhaps, your sphere, in his descent, 1820 
 Stain'd your pure crystal ether, or let fall 
 A short eclipse from his portentous shade ? 
 that the fiend had lodged on some broad orb 
 Athwart his way, nor reach'd his present home ! 
 Then blacken'd earth with footsteps foul'd in hell, 1825 
 Nor wash'd in ocean, as from ROME he pass'd 
 To BRITAIN'S isle ; too, too conspicuous there ! " 
 
 Bur this is all digression. Where is HE 
 
 That o'er heaven's battlements the felon hurl'd 
 
 To groans, and chains, and darkness ? Where is HE 1830 
 
 Who sees Creation's summit in a vale ? 
 
 HE whom, while man is MAN, he can't but seek ; 
 
 And, if he finds, commences more than man ] 
 
 for a telescope His throne to reach ! 
 
 Tell me, ye learn'd on earth, or bless'd above ! 1835 
 
 Ye searching, ye Newtonian angels ! tell, 
 
 Where your great MASTER'S orb ] His planets, where ? 
 
 Those conscious satellites, those morning stars, 
 
 First-born of DEITY ! from Central Love, 
 
 By veneration most profound, thrown off; 1840 
 
 By sweet attraction no less strongly drawn ; 
 
 Awed, and yet raptured ; raptured, yet serene ; 
 
 Past thought illustrious, but with borroVd beams ; 
 
 In still approaching circles, still remote, 
 
 Revolving round the sun's eternal SIRE ? 1845 
 
 Or sent, in lines direct, on embassies 
 
 To nations in what latitude 1 Beyond 
 
 Terrestrial thought's horizon. And on what 
 
 High errands sent ? Here human effort ends ; 
 
 And leaves me still a stranger to His throne. 1850 
 
 FULL well it might ! I quite mistook my road ; 
 Born in an age more curious than devout ; 
 More fond to fix the place of heaven or hell,
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 317 
 
 Than studious this to shun, or that secure.* 
 
 'T is not the curious, but the pious, path 1855 
 
 That leads me to my point : LORENZO, know, 
 
 Without or star or angel for their guide, 
 
 Who worship GOD shall find Him. Humble Love, 
 
 And not proud Reason, keeps the door of heaven ; 
 
 Love finds admission, where proud Science fails. 1860 
 
 Man's science is the culture of his heart ; 
 
 And not to lose his plummet in the depths 
 
 Of Nature, or the more profound of GOD : 
 
 Either to know, is an attempt that sets 
 
 The wisest on a level with the fool. 1865 
 
 To fathom Nature (ill-attempted here !) 
 
 Past doubt, is deep philosophy above : 
 
 Higher degrees in bliss archangels take, 
 
 As deeper learn'd ; the deepest, learning still. 
 
 For, what a thunder of Omnipotence 1870 
 
 (So might I dare to speak) is seen in all ! 
 
 In man, in earth, in more amazing skies ! 
 
 Teaching this lesson, Pride is loath to learn : 
 
 " Not deeply to discern, not much to know, 
 
 Mankind was born to WONDEE and ADOKB." 1875 
 
 AND is there cause for higher wonder still 
 
 Than that which struck us from our past surveys 1 
 
 Yes ; and for deeper adoration too. 
 
 From my late airy travel uneonfined, 
 
 Have I learn'd nothing 1 Yes, LOEENZO, this : 1880 
 
 Each of these stars is a religious house ; 
 
 I saw their altars smoke, their incense rise, 
 
 And heard Hosannas ring through every sphere, 
 
 * Perhaps an unintentional iteration of Pope's couplet, iii liia 
 " Universal Prayer : " 
 
 ' This teach me more than hell to shun, 
 That more than heaven pursue." EDIT. 
 2 E 3
 
 318 NIOHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 A seminary fraught with future gods. 
 
 Nature all o'er is consecrated ground, 1885 
 
 Teeming with growths immortal and Divine. 
 
 The great PROPRIETOR'S all-bounteous hand 
 
 Leaves nothing waste ; but sows these fiery fields 
 
 With seeds of Reason, which to Virtues rise 
 
 Beneath His genial ray; and, if escaped 1890 
 
 The pestilential blasts of stubborn Will, 
 
 When grown mature, are gather'd for the skies. 
 
 And is devotion thought too much on earth, 
 
 When beings, so superior, homage boast, 
 
 And triumph in prostrations to THE THRONE? 1895 
 
 BUT wherefore more of planets, or of stars ? 
 
 Ethereal journeys, and, discover'd there, 
 
 Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, 
 
 All Nature sending incense to THE THRONE, 
 
 Except the bold LORENZOS of our sphere 1 1900 
 
 Opening the solemn sources of my soul, 
 
 Since I have pour'd, like feign'd ERIDANUS, 
 
 My flowing numbers o'er the flaming skies, 
 
 Nor see, of fancy or of fact what more 
 
 Invites the Muse, here turn we, and review 1905 
 
 Our past nocturnal landscape wide : then say, 
 
 Say then, LOKENZO ! with what burst of heart, 
 
 The whole, at once, revolving in his thought, 
 
 Must man exclaim, adoring, and aghast ! 
 
 " WHAT a Root ! what a branch is here ! 1910 
 
 what a Father ! what a family ! 
 
 Worlds, systems, and creations ! and creations, 
 
 In one agglomerated cluster, hung, 
 
 Great VINE,* on THEE ! On THEE the cluster hangs ; 
 
 The filial cluster, infinitely spread 1915 
 
 * John xv. 1.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 319 
 
 In glowing globes, with various being fraught ; 
 
 
 And drinks (nectareous draught !) immortal life. 
 
 
 Or, shall I say ] (for who can say enough ?) 
 
 
 A constellation of ten thousand gems, 
 
 
 (And ! of what dimensions, of what weight !) 
 
 1920 
 
 Set in one signet, flames on the right hand 
 
 
 Of MAJESTY DIVINE ! The blazing seal 
 
 
 That deeply stamps on all-created mind, 
 
 
 Indelible, His sovereign attributes, 
 
 
 OMNIPOTENCE and LOVE ! that passing bound, 
 
 1925 
 
 And this surpassing that. Nor stop we here 
 
 
 For want of power in GOD, but thought in MAN. 
 
 
 E'en this, acknowledged, leaves us still in debt : 
 
 
 If greater aught, that greater all is THINE, 
 
 
 DREAD SIRE ! Accept this miniature of THEE ; 
 
 1930 
 
 And pardon an attempt from mortal thought, 
 
 
 In which archangels might have fail'd unblamed." 
 
 
 How such ideas of the' ALMIGHTY'S power, 
 
 
 And such ideas of the' ALMIGHTY'S plan, 
 
 
 (Ideas not absurd,) distend the thought 
 
 1935 
 
 Of feeble mortals ! nor of them alone ! 
 
 
 The fulness of the DEITY breaks forth 
 
 
 In Inconceivables to men and gods. 
 
 
 Think, then, think, nor ever drop the thought, 
 
 
 How low must man descend, when gods adore ! 
 
 1940 
 
 Have I not, then, accomplished my proud boast 1 ? 
 
 
 Did I not tell thee,* we would mount, LORENZO, 
 
 
 And "kindle our devotion at the stars T' 
 
 
 AKD have I fail'd] And did I flatter thee ? 
 
 
 And art all adamant? And dost confute 
 
 1945 
 
 All urged, with one irrefragable smile ? 
 
 
 LORENZO ! mirth how miserable here ! 
 
 
 Swear by the stars, by HIM who made them, swear. 
 
 
 * Pages 279, 280.
 
 320 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they ! 
 
 Then thou, like them, shalt shine ; like them, shalt rise 
 
 From low to lofty, from obscure to bright, 1951 
 
 By due gradation, Nature's sacred law. 
 
 The stars, from whence 7 Ask Chaos : he can tell. 
 
 These bright temptations to idolatry 
 
 From darkness and confusion took their birth ; 1955 
 
 Sons of deformity ! From fluid dregs 
 
 Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude, 
 
 And then to spheres opaque ; then dimly shone ; 
 
 Then brighten'd ; then blazed out in perfect day. 
 
 Nature delights in progress ; in advance 1960 
 
 From worse to better : but, when minds ascend, 
 
 Progress in part depends upon themselves. 
 
 Heaven aids exertion ; greater makes the great ; 
 
 The voluntary little lessens more. 
 
 be a man, and thou shalt be a god, 1965 
 
 And half self-made ! Ambition how Divine ! 
 
 O THOTJ, ambitious of disgrace alone, 
 
 Still undevout, unkindled 1 though high-taught, 
 
 School'd by the skies, and pupil of the stars ! 
 
 Bank coward to the fashionable world, 1970 
 
 Art thou ashamed to bend thy knee to Heaven 1 
 
 Cursed fume of pride, exhaled from deepest hell ! 
 
 Pride in religion is man's highest praise. 
 
 Bent on destruction, and in love with death ! 
 
 Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once, 1975 
 
 Were half so sad as one benighted mind, 
 
 Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
 
 How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night, 
 
 Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits ! 
 
 How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 1 980 
 
 Perpetual dews, and saddens Nature's scene ! 
 
 A scene more sad Sin makes the darken'd soul. 
 
 All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 321 
 
 THOUGH blind of heart, still open is thine eye : 
 
 Why such magnificence in all thou seest 1 1985 
 
 Of matter's grandeur, know, one end is this, 
 
 To tell the rational who gazes on it, 
 
 " Though that immensely great, still greater He 
 
 Whose breast capacious can embrace and lodge, 
 
 Unburden'd, Nature's universal scheme ; 1990 
 
 Can grasp Creation with a single thought ; 
 
 Creation grasp ; and not exclude its SIRE :" 
 
 To tell him farther, " It behoves him much 
 
 To guard the' important, yet depending, fate 
 
 Of being brighter than a thousand suns : 1995 
 
 One single ray of thought outshines them all." 
 
 And if man hears obedient, soon he '11 soar 
 
 Superior heights, and on his purple wing, 
 
 His purple wing bedropp'd with eyes of gold, 
 
 Rising, where thought is now denied to rise, 2000 
 
 Look down triumphant on these dazzling spheres. 
 
 WHY then persist 1 No mortal ever lived, 
 
 But, dying, he pronounced (when words are true) 
 
 The whole that charms thee absolutely vain ; 
 
 Vain, and far worse ! Think thou with dying men ; 2005 
 
 condescend to think as angels think ! 
 
 tolerate a chance for happiness ! 
 
 Our nature such, ill choice insures ill fate ; 
 
 And hell had been, though there had been no God. 
 
 Dost thou not know, my new astronomer, 2010 
 
 Earth, turning from the sun, brings night to man ? 
 
 Man, turning from his GOD, brings endless night ; 
 
 Where thou canst read no morals, find no friend, 
 
 Amend no manners, and expect no peace. 
 
 How deep the darkness ! and the groan, how loud ! 201 5 
 
 And far, how far, from. lambent are the flames ! 
 
 Such is LORENZO'S purchase, such his praise ! 
 
 The proud, the politic LORENZO'S praise !
 
 322 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 Though in his ear, and levell'd at his heart, 
 
 I 've half read o'er the volume of the skies. 2020 
 
 FOK think not thou hast heard all this from me ; 
 
 My song but echoes what great Nature speaks. 
 
 What has she spoken ] Thus the goddess spoke, 
 
 Thus speaks for ever : " Place at Nature's head 
 
 A Sovereign, which o'er all things rolls His eye, 2025 
 
 Extends His wing, promulgates His commands, 
 
 But, above all, diffuses endless good ; 
 
 To whom, for sure redress, the wrong'd may fly, 
 
 The vile for mercy, and the pain'd for peace ; 
 
 By whom the various tenants of these spheres, 2030 
 
 Diversified in fortunes, place, and powers, 
 
 Kaised in enjoyment, as in worth they rise, 
 
 Arrive at length (if worthy such approach) 
 
 At that bless'd fountain-head from which they stream ; 
 
 Where conflict past redoubles present joy ; 2035 
 
 And present joy looks forward on increase ; 
 
 And that on more ; no period ! every step 
 
 A double boon, a promise and a bliss." 
 
 How easy sits this scheme on human hearts ! 
 
 It suits their make, it soothes their vast desires ; 2040 
 
 Passion is pleased, and Reason asks no more : 
 
 'T is rational, 't is great ! But what is thine ? 
 
 It darkens, shocks, excruciates, and confounds ! 
 
 Leaves us quite naked both of help and hope, 
 
 Sinking from bad to worse ; few years, the sport 2045 
 
 Of Fortune ; then, the morsel of Despair. 
 
 SAT then, LORENZO, (for thou know'st it well,) 
 
 What 's vice 1 Mere want of compass in our thought. 
 
 Religion, what! The proof of common-sense. 
 
 How art thou hooted, where the least prevails ! 2050 
 
 Is it my fault if these truths call thee "fool?" 
 
 And thou shall never be miscall'd by me.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 323 
 
 Can neither shame nor terror stand thy friend 1 
 
 And art thou still an insect in the mire 1 
 
 How, like thy guardian angel, have I flown ; 2055 
 
 Snatch'd thee from earth ; escorted thee through all 
 
 The' ethereal armies ; walk'd thee, like a god, 
 
 Through splendours of first magnitude, arranged 
 
 On either hand ; clouds thrown beneath thy feet ; 
 
 Close cruised on the bright paradise of GOD ; 2060 
 
 And almost introduced thee to THE THRONE ! 
 
 And art thou still carousing, for delight, 
 
 Rank poison ; first fermenting to mere froth, 
 
 And then subsiding into final gall 1 
 
 To beings of sublime, immortal make, 2065 
 
 How shocking is all joy whose end is snre ! 
 
 Such joy more shocking still, the more it charms ! 
 
 And dost thou choose what ends ere well begun, 
 
 And infamous as short ? And dost thou choose 
 
 (Thou, to whose palate glory is so sweet) 2070 
 
 To wade into perdition, through contempt, 
 
 Hot of poor bigots only, but thy own 1 
 
 For I have peep'd into thy cover'd heart, 
 
 And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; 
 
 For, by strong Guilt's most violent assault, 2075 
 
 Conscience is but disabled, not destroy^. 
 
 THOU most awful being, and most vain ! 
 
 Thy will, how frail ! how glorious is thy power ! 
 
 Though dread ETERNITY has sown her seeds 
 
 Of bliss and woe in thy despotic breast ; 2080 
 
 Though heaven and hell depend upon thy choice,* 
 
 A butterfly comes 'cross, and both are fled. 
 
 Is this the picture of a rational 1 
 
 This horrid image, shall it be most just] 
 
 LORENZO ! no : it cannot, shall not, be, 2085 
 
 * Instead of choice, the first quarto edition had thought. EDIT.
 
 324 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 If there is force in reason ; or in sounds 
 
 Chanted beneath the glimpses of the moon, 
 
 A magic, at this planetary hour, 
 
 When slumber locks the general lip, and dreams 
 
 Through senseless mazes hunt souls uninspired. 2090 
 
 Attend the sacred mysteries begin 
 
 My solemn night-born adjuration hear. 
 
 Hear, and I '11 raise thy spirit from the dust, 
 
 While the stars gaze on this enchantment new ; 
 
 Enchantment, not infernal, but Divine ! 2095 
 
 " BY Silence, DEATH'S peculiar attribute ; 
 
 BY Darkness, GUILT'S inevitable doom ; 
 
 BY Darkness and by Silence, sisters dread ! 
 
 That draw the curtain round NIGHT'S ebon throne, 
 
 And raise ideas solemn as the scene ! 2100 
 
 BY NIGHT, and all of Awful, Night presents 
 
 To Thought or Sense ! (of Awful much to both 
 
 The goddess brings !) BY these her trembling fires, 
 
 Like VESTA'S, ever burning ; and, like hers, 
 
 Sacred to thoughts immaculate and pure ! 2105 
 
 BY these bright orators, that prove, and praise, 
 
 And press thee to revere, the DEITY ; 
 
 Perhaps, too, aid thee, when revered awhile, 
 
 To reach His throne ; as stages of the soul, 
 
 Through which, at different periods, she shall pass, 2110 
 
 Refining gradual, for her final height, 
 
 And purging off some dross at every sphere ! 
 
 BY this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world ! 
 
 BY the world's kings, and kingdoms, most renown'd, 
 
 From short ambition's zenith set for ever ; 2115 
 
 Sad presage to vain boasters now in bloom ! 
 
 BY the long list of swift mortality, 
 
 From ADAM downward to this evening knell, 
 
 Which Midnight waves in Fancy's startled eye ; 
 
 And shocKs her with a hundred centuries, 2120
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 325 
 
 Round Death's black banner throng'd, in human thought ! 
 
 BY thousands, now resigning their last breath, 
 
 And calling thee wert thou so wise to hear ! 
 
 BY tombs o'er tombs arising ; human earth 
 
 Ejected, to make room for human earth ; 2125 
 
 The monarch's terror, and the sexton's trade ! 
 
 BY pompous obsequies, that shun the day, 
 
 The torch funereal, and the nodding plume, 
 
 Which makes poor man's humiliation proud ; 
 
 Boast of our ruin, triumph of our dust ! 21 3C 
 
 BY the damp vault that weeps o'er royal bones ; 
 
 And the pale lamp that shows the ghastly dead, 
 
 More ghastly, through the thick incumbent gloom ! 
 
 BY visits (if there are) from darker scenes, 
 
 The gliding spectre, and the groaning grove ! * 2135 
 
 BY groans and graves, and miseries that groan 
 
 For the grave's shelter ! BY desponding men, 
 
 Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of guilt ! 
 
 BY Guilt's last audit ! BY yon moon in blood, 
 
 The rocking firmament, the falling stars, 2140 
 
 And thunder's last discharge, great Nature's knell ! 
 
 BY SECOND Chaos, and ETERNAL Night!" 
 
 BE WISE : Nor let PHILANDER blame my charm j 
 
 But own not ill-discharged my double debt, 
 
 Love to the living, duty to the dead. 2145 
 
 FOR know, I 'm but executor : Tie left 
 
 This moral legacy ! I make it o'er 
 
 By his command : PHILANDER hear in me ; 
 
 And Heaven in both. If deaf to these, hear 
 
 FLORELLO'S tender voice ; his weal depends 2150 
 
 * Grave was the word in the first quarto ; but it was altered into 
 grove in the first octavo of 1749 ; and grove has been retained in all sub- 
 sequent impressions. EDIT. 
 
 V V
 
 326 NIGHT THOUGHTS. NIGHT IX. 
 
 On thy resolve ; it trembles at thy choice : 
 
 For his sake love thyself. Example strikes 
 
 All human hearts ; a bad example more ; 
 
 More still a father's ; that insures his ruin. 
 
 As parent of his being, wouldst thou prove 2155 
 
 The' unnatural parent of his miseries, 
 
 And make him curse the being which thou gavest 1 
 
 Is this the blessing of so fond a father ] 
 
 If careless of LORENZO, spare, spare 
 
 FLORELLO'S father, and PHILANDER'S friend ! 2160 
 
 FLORELLO'S father, ruin'd, ruins him ; 
 
 And from PHILANDER'S friend the world expects 
 
 A conduct, no dishonour to the dead. 
 
 Let passion do what nobler motive should ; 
 
 Let love, and emulation, rise in aid 2165 
 
 To reason ; and persuade thee to be bless'd. 
 
 THIS seems not a request to be denied ; 
 
 Yet (such the' infatuation of mankind !) 
 
 'T is the most hopeless man can make to man. 
 
 Shall I, then, rise in argument and warmth, 2170 
 
 And urge PHILANDER'S posthumous advice, 
 
 From topics yet unbroach'd ? 
 
 But, 0, I faint ! my spirits fail ! Nor strange ! 
 
 So long on wing, and in no middle clime ; 
 
 To which my great CREATOR'S glory call'd, 2175 
 
 And calls but now in vain. Sleep's dewy wand 
 
 Has stroked my drooping lids, and promises * 
 
 My long arrear of rest ; the downy god 
 
 (Wont to return with our returning peace) 
 
 Will pay, ere long, and bless me with repose. 2180 
 
 Haste, haste, sweet stranger, from the peasant's cot, 
 
 The ship-boy's hammock, or the soldier's straw, 
 
 * In the early quarto impressions this line immediately follows, 
 " (If my fond wishes are not flatterers)." EDIT.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 327 
 
 Whence sorrow never chased thee ! With thee bring, 
 
 Not hideous visions, as of late ; but draughts 
 
 Delicious of well-tasted, cordial rest ; 2185 
 
 Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath, 
 
 That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play 
 
 The various movements of this nice machine, 
 
 Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
 
 When tired with vain rotations of the day, 2190 
 
 Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
 
 Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, 
 
 Or Death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. 
 
 When will it end with me ? 
 
 " THOU only know'st, 2195 
 
 THOU, whose broad eye the future and the past 
 
 Joins to the present ; making one of three 
 
 To mortal* thought ! THOU know'st, and THOU alone, 
 
 All-knowing ! all-unknown ! and yet well-known ! 
 
 Near, though remote ; and, though unfathom'd, felt ! 
 
 And, though invisible, for ever seen ! 2201 
 
 And seen in all, the great and the minute ! 
 
 Each globe above, with its gigantic race, 
 
 Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'd, 
 
 (Those puny vouchers off OMNIPOTENCE !) 2205 
 
 To the first thought that asks, ' From whence V declare 
 
 Their common source. THOU Fountain, running o'er 
 
 In rivers of communicated joy ! 
 
 Who gavest us speech for far, far humbler themes ! 
 
 Say, by what name shall I presume to call 2210 
 
 HIM I see burning in these countless suns, 
 
 As MOSES, in the bush ? ILLUSTRIOUS MIND ! 
 
 * In all the early impressions, quarto and octavo, this is mortal; 
 which was changed to moral in the edition of the collected Works, 1762. 
 EDIT. 
 
 t Instead of this word, the early quarto and octavo impressions have 
 for. EDIT. 
 
 2 F 2
 
 328 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 The whole creation less, far less, to Thee, 
 
 Than that to the creation's ample round.* 
 
 How shall I name THEE] How my labouring soul 2215 
 
 Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth ! 
 
 " GREAT System of perfections ! Mighty Cause 
 
 Of causes mighty ! Cause uncaused ! Sole Root 
 
 Of Nature, that luxuriant growth of GOD ! 
 
 First Father of effects, that progeny 2220 
 
 Of endless series ! where the golden chain's 
 
 Last link admits a period, who can tell 1 
 
 Father of all that is or heard or hears ! 
 
 Father of all that is or seen or sees ! 
 
 Father of all that is or shall arise ! 2225 
 
 Father of this immeasurable mass 
 
 Of matter multiform, or dense or rare, 
 
 Opaque or lucid, rapid or at rest, 
 
 Minute, or passing bound ! in each extreme, 
 
 Of like amaze and mystery to man. . 2230 
 
 Father of these bright millions of the night ! 
 
 Of which the least full Godhead had proclaim'd, 
 
 And thrown the gazer on his knee. Or, say, 
 
 Is appellation higher still Thy choice ? 
 
 Father of matter's temporary lords ! 2235 
 
 Father of spirits, nobler offspring ! sparks 
 
 Of high paternal glory ; rich-endow'd 
 
 With various measures, and with various modes 
 
 Of instinct, reason, intuition ; beams 
 
 More pale or bright, from day Divine, to break 2240 
 
 The Dark of matter organized ; (the ware 
 
 Of all created spirit ;) beams, that rise 
 
 Each over other in superior light, 
 
 Till the last ripens into lustre strong, f 
 
 * Orb in the first quarto impression. EDIT. 
 t In the first quarto edition tbis line immediately follows, 
 " (In the Throne's full effulgence colour'd high)." EDIT.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 329 
 
 Of next approach to GODHEAD. Father fond 2245 
 
 (Far fonder than e'er bore that name on earth) 
 
 Of intellectual beings ! beings bless'd 
 
 With powers to please THEE ; not of passive ply 
 
 To laws they know not ! beings lodged in seats 
 
 Of well-adapted joys, in different domes 2250 
 
 Of this imperial palace for Thy sons ; 
 
 Of this proud, populous, well-policied, 
 
 Though boundless, habitation, plann'd by THEE j 
 
 Whose several clans their several climates suit ; 
 
 And transposition, doubtless, would destroy. 2255 
 
 Or, ! indulge, Immortal KING ! indulge 
 
 A title, less august indeed, but more 
 
 Endearing ; ah ! how sweet in human ears, 
 
 Sweet in our ears, and triumph in our hearts ! 
 
 Father of Immortality to man ! 2260 
 
 A theme * that lately set my soul on fire. 
 
 And THOU the NEXT, yet equal ! THOU, by whom 
 
 That blessing was convey'd, (far more !) was bought, 
 
 Ineffable the price ! by whom all worlds 
 
 Were made, and one redeem'd ! illustrious Light, 2265 
 
 From Light illustrious ! THOU, whose regal power, 
 
 Finite in time, but infinite in space, 
 
 On more than adamantine basis fix'd, 
 
 O'er more, far more, than diadems and thrones 
 
 Inviolably reigns ; the dread of gods ! 2270 
 
 And, ! the friend of man ! beneath whose foot, 
 
 And by the mandate of whose awful nod, 
 
 All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates, 
 
 Of high, of low, of mind and matter, roll 
 
 Through' the short channels of expiring Time, 2275 
 
 Or shoreless ocean of eternity, 
 
 Calm or tempestuous, (as Thy Spirit breatb.ee,) 
 
 In absolute subjection ! And, THOU, 
 
 * Nights the Sixth and Seventh. 
 2 F 3
 
 330 NIGHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 The glorious THIRD ! distinct, not separate ! 
 
 Beaming from both, with both incorporate ! 2280 
 
 And (strange to tell !) incorporate with dust ! 
 
 By condescension, as Thy glory, great, 
 
 Enshrined in man ! of human hearts, if pure, 
 
 Divine inhabitant ! the tie Divine 
 
 Of Heaven with distant earth ! by whom, I trust, 2285 
 
 (If not inspired) uncensured this address 
 
 To THEE, to THEM To whom ] Mysterious power ! 
 
 Keveal'd, yet unreveal'd ! Darkness in light ! 
 
 Number in unity ! our joy, our dread ! 
 
 The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin ! 2290 
 
 That animates all right, the triple Sun ! 
 
 Sun of the Soul, her never-setting Sun ! * 
 
 Triune, unutterable, unconceived, 
 
 Absconding yet demonstrable, GREAT GOD ! 
 
 Greater than greatest, better than the best ! 2295 
 
 Kinder than kindest ! with soft Pity's eye, 
 
 Or (stronger still to speak it) with Thine own, 
 
 From Thy bright home, from that high firmament, 
 
 Where THOU, from all eternity, hast dwelt, 
 
 Beyond archangel's unassisted ken ; 2300 
 
 From far above what mortals highest call ; 
 
 From elevation's pinnacle ; look down, 
 
 Through what? Confounding interval ! through all, 
 
 And more than labouring Fancy can conceive, 
 
 Through radiant ranks of essences unknown ; 2305 
 
 Through hierarchies from hierarchies detach'd, 
 
 Round various banners of OMNIPOTENCE, 
 
 With endless change of rapturous duties fired ; 
 
 Through wondrous beings' interposing swarms,' 
 
 All clustering at the call, to dwell in THEE ; 2310 
 
 Through this wide waste of worlds ; this vista vast, 
 
 * This line was not in the quarto impressions, but was first inserted 
 in the octavo of 1749. EDIT.
 
 THB CONSOLATION. 331 
 
 All sanded o'er with suns ! suns turn'd to night 
 
 Before Thy feeblest beam, Look down, down, down, 
 
 On a poor breathing particle in dust, 
 
 Or, lower, an immortal in his crimes. 2315 
 
 His crimes forgive ; forgive his virtues too, 
 
 Those smaller faults, half-converts to the right ! 
 
 Nor let me close these eyes, which never more 
 
 May see the sun, (though night's descending scale 
 
 Now weighs up morn,) unpitied and unbless'd ! 2320 
 
 In Thy displeasure dwells eternal pain : 
 
 Pain, our aversion ; pain, which strikes me now : 
 
 And, since all pain is terrible to man, 
 
 Though transient, terrible ; at Thy good hour, 
 
 Gently, ah ! gently, lay me in my bed, 2325 
 
 My clay-cold bed ! by Nature, now, so near ! 
 
 By Nature, near ; still nearer by Disease ! 
 
 Till then, be this an emblem of my grave ! 
 
 Let it out-preach the Preacher ; every night 
 
 Let it out-cry the boy at PHILIP'S ear ; 233G 
 
 That tongue of death, that herald of the tomb ! 
 
 And when (the shelter of Thy wing implored) 
 
 My senses, soothed, shall sink in soft repose ; 
 
 sink this truth still deeper in my soul, 
 
 Suggested by my pillow, sign'd by Fate, 2335 
 
 First, in Fate's volume, at the page of Man : 
 
 Man's sickly soul, though turrid and toss' d for ever 
 
 From side to side, can rest on nought but THEE, 
 
 Here in full trust, hereafter in full joy ; 
 
 On THEE, the promised, sure, eternal down 2340 
 
 Of spirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. 
 
 Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; 
 
 For Love almighty ! Love almighty ! (Sing, 
 
 Exult, Creation !) Love almighty reigns ! 
 
 That death of death, that cordial of despair ! 2345 
 
 And loud ETERNITY'S triumphant song !
 
 332 NIOHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 " OP whom no more : for, Thou PATRON-GOD ! 
 
 Thou God and mortal ! thence more GOD to man ! 
 
 Man's theme eternal, man's eternal theme I 
 
 THOU canst not 'scape uninjured from our praise. 2350 
 
 Uninjured from our praise can HE escape, 
 
 Who, disembosom'd from the FATHER, bows 
 
 The heaven of heavens, to kiss the distant earth ? 
 
 Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ; 
 
 Against the cross, Death's iron sceptre breaks ; 2355 
 
 From famish'd Ruin plucks her human prey ; 
 
 Throws wide the gates celestial to His foes ; 
 
 Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt, 
 
 Deputes their suffering brothers to receive ; 
 
 And, if deep human guilt in payment fails, 2360 
 
 As deeper guilt, prohibits our despair ; 
 
 Enjoins it, as our duty, to rejoice ; 
 
 And, (to close all,) omnipotently kind, 
 
 Takes His delights among the sons of men ? " * 
 
 WHAT words are these? And did they come from heaven] 
 
 And were they spoke to man ] to guilty man 1 2366 
 
 What are all mysteries to love like this ) 
 
 The songs of angels, all the melodies 
 
 Of choral gods, are wafted in the sound ; 
 
 Heal and exhilarate the broken heart, 2370 
 
 Though plunged before in horrors dark as night : 
 
 Rich prelibation of consummate joy ! 
 
 Nor wait we dissolution to be bless'd. 
 
 THIS final effort of the moral Muse, 
 
 How justly titled ! t Nor for me alone ; 2375 
 
 For all that read ! What spirit of support, 
 
 What heights of CONSOLATION, crown my song ! 
 
 * Prov. viii. t The Consolation.
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 333 
 
 THEN farewell, NIGHT ! Of darkness now no more : 
 
 Joy breaks, shines, triumphs ; 't is eternal day. 
 
 Shall that which rises out of nought complain 2380 
 
 Of a few evils, paid with endless joys 1 
 
 My soul ! henceforth, in sweetest union join 
 
 The two supports of human happiness, 
 
 Which some erroneous think can never meet, 
 
 True taste of life, and constant thought of death ; 2385 
 
 The thought of death, sole victor of its dread ! 
 
 Hope be thy joy, and probity thy skill ; 
 
 Thy Patron, HE whose diadem has dropp'd 
 
 Yon gems of heaven ; eternity, thy prize : 
 
 And leave the racers of the world their own, 2390 
 
 Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils : 
 
 They part with all for that which is not bread ; 
 
 They mortify, they starve, on wealth, fame, power ; 
 
 And laugh to scorn the fools that aim at more. 
 
 How must a spirit, late escaped from earth, 2395 
 
 Suppose PHILANDEK'S, LUCIA'S, or NARCISSA'S, 
 
 The truth of things new-blazing in its eye, 
 
 Look back, astonish 'd, on the ways of men, 
 
 Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their graves ! 
 
 And when our present privilege is pass'd, 2400 
 
 To scourge us with due sense of its abuse, 
 
 The same astonishment will seize us all. 
 
 What then must pain us, would preserve us now. 
 
 LORENZO ! 't is not yet too late ; LORENZO ! 
 
 Seize Wisdom, ere 't is torment to be wise ; 2405 
 
 That is, seize Wisdom, ere she seizes thee. 
 
 For what, my small philosopher, is Hell 1 
 
 'T is nothing but full knowledge of the Truth, 
 
 When Truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe, 
 
 And calls ETERNITY to do her right. 2410 
 
 THUS, Darkness aiding intellectual light, 
 And sacred Silence whispering truths Divine,
 
 334 NiaHT THOUGHTS. 
 
 And truths Divine converting pain to peace, 
 
 My song the midnight raven has outwing'd, 
 
 And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes, 2415 
 
 Beyond the flaming limits of the world, 
 
 Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight 
 
 Of Fancy, when our hearts remain below ] 
 
 Virtue abounds in flatterers and foes ; 
 
 'T is pride to praise her, penance to perform. 2420 
 
 To more than words, to more than worth of tongue, 
 
 LORENZO ! rise at this auspicious hour : 
 
 An hour when Heaven 's most intimate with man ; 
 
 When, like a falling star, the ray Divine 
 
 Glides swift into the bosom of the just ; 2425 
 
 And just are all, determined to reclaim ; 
 
 Which sets that title high within thy reach. 
 
 Awake then ; thy PHILANDER calls ; awake I 
 
 Thou who shalt wake when the creation sleeps ; 
 
 When, like a taper, all these suns expire ; 2430 
 
 When TIME, like him of Gaza, in his wrath, 
 
 Plucking the pillars that support the world, 
 
 In NATUBE'S ample ruins lies entomb'd ; 
 
 And MIDNIGHT, universal Midnight, reigns.* 
 
 * While this Ninth Night was passing through (he press, in the 
 autumn of 1745, Dr. Young was enjoying himself, after the fatigues 
 of authorship, at Tunbridge Wells. Towards the end of September, 
 having heard of the progress of the rebellion in favour of the Pretender, 
 he returned to Welwyn, and composed a violent diatribe, in blank 
 verse, against Popery, arbitrary power, and French ambition ; which 
 he addressed to the Duke of Newcastle, and subjoined to the concluding 
 verses of the "Night Thoughts." Soon afterwards he removed it from 
 that position, as an incongruous appendage, and placed the " Paraphrase 
 on Part of the Book of Job " as a substitute. The reader will find the 
 discarded verses in the collection of his Works, (in two volumes, 
 published by Messrs. William Tegg and Co.,) under the title of 
 " Reflections on the public Situation of the Kingdom, 1745." EDIT.
 
 A PARAPHRASE 
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB. 
 
 PRINTED IN MDCCXIX.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS LORD PARKER, BARON 0? 
 
 MACCLESFIELD, LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR 
 
 OP GREAT BRITAIN, &0. 
 
 Mr LORD, 
 
 THOUGH I have not the honour of being known to 
 your Lordship, I presume to take a privilege which men 
 of retirement are apt to think themselves in possession of, 
 as being the only method they have of making their way to 
 persons of your Lordship's high station without struggling 
 through multitudes for access. I may possibly Ml in my 
 respect to your Lordship, even while I endeavour to show 
 it most ; but, if I err, it is because I imagined I ought not 
 to make my first approach to one of your Lordship's exalted 
 character with less ceremony than that of a dedication. It 
 is annexed to the condition of eminent merit, not to suffer 
 more from the malice of its enemies than from the impor- 
 tunity of its admirers ; and perhaps it would be unjust that 
 your Lordship should hope to be exempted from the trou- 
 bles, when you possess all the talents, of a patron. 
 
 I have here a fair occasion to celebrate those sublime 
 qualities, of which a whole nation is sensible, were it not 
 inconsistent with the design of my present application. 
 By the just discharge of your great employments, your 
 Lordship may well deserve the prayers of the distressed, 
 the thanks of your country, and the approbation of your 
 royal master. This, indeed, is a reason why every good 
 o o
 
 338 DEDICATION. 
 
 Briton should applaud your Lordship ; but it is equally a 
 reason why none should disturb you, in the execution of 
 your important affairs, by works of fancy and amusement. 
 I was therefore induced to make this address to your Lord- 
 ship, by considering you rather in the amiable light of a 
 person distinguished for a refined taste of the polite arts, 
 and the candour that usually attends it, than in the dignity 
 of your public character. 
 
 The greatness and solemnity of the subjects treated of in 
 the following work, cannot fail, in some measure, to recom- 
 mend it to a person who holds in the utmost veneration 
 those sacred books from which it is taken ; and would at 
 the same time justify to the world my choice of the great 
 name prefixed to it, could I be assured that the undertak- 
 ing had not suffered in my hands. Thus much I think 
 myself obliged to say, that if this little performance had 
 not been very indulgently spoken of by some whose judg- 
 ment is universally allowed in writings of this nature, I had 
 not dared to gratify my ambition in offering it to your 
 Lordship. I am sensible that I am endeavouring to excuse 
 one vanity by another ; but I hope I shall meet with par- 
 don for it, since it is visibly intended to show the great 
 submission and respect with which I am, my Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient and most humble servant, 
 
 EDWARD You no.
 
 A PARAPHRASE 
 
 ON 
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB.* 
 
 THRICE happy JOB f long lived in regal state : 
 
 Nor saw the sumptuous East a prince so great, 
 
 Whose worldly stores in such abundance flow'd, 
 
 Whose heart with such exalted virtue glow'd. 
 
 At length misfortunes take their turn to reign, 6 
 
 And ills on ills succeed, a dreadful train ! 
 
 What now but deaths, and poverty, and wrong, 
 
 The sword wide-wasting, the reproachful tongue, 
 
 * It is disputed amongst the critics, who was the author of the Book 
 of Job : some give it to Moses, some to others. As I was engaged in this 
 little performance, some arguments occurred to me which favour the 
 former of these opinions ; which arguments I have flung into the follow- 
 ing notes, where little else is to be expected. 
 
 f The Almighty's speech, (chap, xxxviii. &c.,) which is what I para- 
 phrase in this little work, is by much the finest part of the noblest and 
 most ancient poem in the world. Bishop Patrick says, its grandeur is 
 as much above all other poetry, as thunder is louder than a whisper. 
 In order to set this distinguished part of the poem in a fuller light, and 
 give the reader a clearer conception of it, I have abridged the preceding 
 and subsequent parts of the poem, and joined them to it ; so that this 
 piece is a sort of an epitome of the whole Book of Job. 
 
 I use the word "Paraphrase," because I want another which might 
 better answer to the uncommon liberties I have taken. I have omitted, 
 added, and transposed. The mountain, the comet, the sun, and other 
 parts, are entirely added ; those upon the peacock, the lion, &c., are 
 much enlarged ; and I have thrown the whole into a method more suit- 
 able to our notions of regularity. The judicious, if they compare this 
 piece with the original, will, I flatter myself, find the reasons for the 
 great liberties I have indulged myself in through the whole. 
 
 Longinus has a chapter on interrogations, which shows that they con- 
 2 G 2
 
 340 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 And spotted plagues, that mark'd his limbs all o'er 
 
 So thick with pains, they wanted room for more? 10 
 
 A change so sad what mortal heart could bear 1 
 
 Exhausted woe had left him nought to fear, 
 
 But gave him all to grief. Low earth he press'd, 
 
 Wept in the dust, and sorely smote his breast. 
 
 His friends around the deep affliction mourn'd. 1 5 
 
 Felt all his pangs, and groan for groan return 'd ; 
 
 In anguish of their hearts their mantles rent, 
 
 And seven long days in solemn silence spent ; 
 
 A debt of reverence to distress so great ! 
 
 Then JOB contain'd no more, but cursed his fate. 20 
 
 His day of birth, its inauspicious light 
 
 He wishes sunk in shades of endless night, 
 
 And blotted from the year ; nor fears to crave 
 
 Death, instant death ; impatient for the grave, 
 
 That seat of bliss, that mansion of repose, 25 
 
 Where rest and mortals are no longer foes ; 
 
 Where counsellors are hush'd, and mighty kings 
 
 (0 happy turn !) no more are wretched things. 
 
 His words were daring, and displeased his friends ; 
 
 His conduct they reprove, and he defends : 30 
 
 And now they kindled into warm debate, 
 
 And sentiments opposed with equal heat ; 
 
 Fix'd in opinion, both refuse to yield, 
 
 And summon all their reason to the field. 
 
 So high at length their arguments were wrought, 35 
 
 They reach'd the last extent of human thought : 
 
 A pause ensued : when, lo ! Heaven interposed, 
 
 And awfully the long contention closed. 
 
 tribute much to the sublime. This speech of the Almighty is made up 
 of them. Interrogation seems, indeed, the proper style of majesty in- 
 censed. It differs from other manner of reproof, as bidding a person 
 execute himself does from a common execution ; for he that asks the 
 guilty a proper question, makes him, in effect, pass sentence on himself.
 
 -.-r Low earth he prrss'd. 
 
 Ti^l an*t, and sornlv smote bis "bn-.-is! 
 
 His h-iends arorrnd th,. 3ep affliction monn.'.l 
 I'olt aj[ his pamrs. ajid rt-oan for ifroan retarn'd 
 
 on .William Teirtf & C?
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB. 341 
 
 Full o'er their heads, with terrible surprise, 
 A sudden whirlwind blacken'd all the skies. 40 
 
 (They saw, and trembled !) * From the darkness broke 
 A dreadful voice ; and thus the' Almighty spoke : 
 
 " WHO gives his tongue a loose so bold and vain, 
 
 Censures my conduct, and reproves my reign ] 
 
 Lifts up his thoughts against me from the dust, 45 
 
 And tells the world's Creator what is just] 
 
 Of late so brave, now lift a dauntless eye, 
 
 Face my demand, and give it a reply : 
 
 Where didst thou dwell at nature's early birth ? 
 
 Who laid foundations for the spacious earth ] 50 
 
 Who on its surface did extend the line, 
 
 Its form determine, and its bulk confine ? 
 
 Who fix'd the corner-stone ? What hand, declare, 
 
 Hung it on nought, and fasten'd it in air ; 
 
 When the bright morning-stars in concert sung, 55 
 
 When heaven's high arch with loud hosannas rung, 
 
 When shouting sons of God the triumph crown'd, 
 
 And the wide concave thunder'd with the sound ? 
 
 "EARTH'S numerous kingdoms, hast thou view'd them 
 
 111 
 
 And can thy span of knowledge grasp the ball ? 60 
 
 Who heaved the mountain, which sublimely stands, 
 And casts its shadow into distant lands 1 
 
 * The Book of Job is well known to be dramatic, and, like the trage- 
 dies of old Greece, is fiction built on truth. Probably this most noble 
 part of it the Almighty speaking out of the whirlwind (so suitable to 
 the after-practice of the Greek stage, when there happened digmu vin- 
 dice nodus) is fictitious ; but it is a fiction more agreeable to the time in 
 which Job lived than to any since. Frequent before the Law were the 
 appearances of the Almighty after this manner. (Exod. xix. ; Ezek. i., 
 &c.) Hence is He said to " dwell in thick darkness, and have His way 
 in the whirlwind." 
 
 2 3
 
 342 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 " WHO, stretching forth his sceptre o'er the deep, 
 
 Can that wild world in due subjection keep 1 
 
 I broke the globe, I scoop'd its hollow'd side, 65 
 
 And did a basin for the floods provide ; 
 
 I chain'd them with my word : the boiling sea, 
 
 Work'd up in tempests, hears my great decree : 
 
 ' Thus far thy floating tide shall be convey'd ; 
 
 And here, main, be thy proud billows stay'd.'* 70 
 
 " HAST thou explored the secrets of the deep, 
 
 Where, shut from use, unnumber'd treasures sleep 1 
 
 Where, down a thousand fathoms from the day, 
 
 Springs the great fountain, mother of the sea ] 
 
 Those gloomy paths did thy bold foot e'er tread, 75 
 
 Whole worlds of waters rolling o'er thy head 1 
 
 " HATH the cleft centre open'd wide to thee ] 
 
 Death's inmost chambers didst thou ever see ? 
 
 E'er knock at his tremendous gate, and wade 
 
 To the black portal through the' incumbent shade 1 80 
 
 Deep are those shades ; but shades still deeper hide 
 
 My counsels from the ken of human pride. 
 
 " WHERE dwells the light ? in what refulgent dome ? 
 And where has darkness made her dismal home 1 ? 
 Thou know'st, no doubt; since thy large heart is fraught 85 
 With ripen'd wisdom, through long ages brought ; 
 
 * There is a very great air in all that precedes, but this is signally 
 sublime. We are struck with admiration to see the vast and ungovern- 
 able ocean receiving commands, and punctually obeying them ; to find 
 it like a managed horse, raging, tossing, and foaming, but by the rule 
 and direction of its master. This passage yields in sublimity to that of 
 "Let there be light," &c., so much only as the absolute government 
 of nature yields to the creation of it. The like spirit in these two pas- 
 sages is no bad concurrent argument that Moses is author of the 
 Book of Job.
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OF JOB. 343 
 
 Since nature was call'd forth when thou wast by, 
 And into being rose beneath thine eye ! 
 
 " ARE mists begotten ] Who their father knew ? 
 
 From whom descend the pearly drops of dew ? 90 
 
 To bind the stream by night, what hand can boast, 
 
 Or whiten morning with the hoary frost ? 
 
 Whose powerful breath, from northern regions blown, 
 
 Touches the sea, and turns it into stone, 
 
 A sudden desert spreads o'er realms defaced, 95 
 
 And lays one half of the creation waste ? 
 
 " THOU know'st me not : thy blindness cannot see 
 
 How vast a distance parts thy God from thee. 
 
 Canst thou in whirlwinds mount aloft ? Canst thou 
 
 In clouds and darkness wrap thy awful brow, 100 
 
 And, when day triumphs in meridian light, 
 
 Put forth thy hand, and shade the world with night ? 
 
 " WHO launch'd the clouds in air, and bid them roll 
 
 Suspended seas aloft from pole to pole ? 
 
 Who can refresh the burning sandy plain, 105 
 
 And quench the summer with a waste of rain 1 
 
 Who, in rough deserts, far from human toil, 
 
 Made rocks bring forth, and desolation smile ? 
 
 There blooms the rose, where human face ne'er shone, 
 
 And spreads its beauties to the sun alone. 110 
 
 " To check the shower, who lifts his hand on high, 
 
 And shuts the sluices of the' exhausted sky, 
 
 When earth no longer mourns her gaping veins, 
 
 Her naked mountains, and her russet plains ; 
 
 But, new in life, a cheerful prospect yields 115 
 
 Of shining rivers, and of verdant fields ; 
 
 When groves and forests lavish all their bloom, 
 
 And earth and heaven are fill'd with rich perfume 1
 
 344 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 " HAST thou e'er scaled my wintry skies, and seen 
 
 Of hail and snows my northern magazine ? 120 
 
 These the dread treasure of mine anger are, 
 
 My funds of vengeance for the day of war, 
 
 When clouds rain death, and storms, at my command, 
 
 Rage through the world, or waste a guilty land. 
 
 " WHO taught the rapid winds to fly so fast, 125 
 
 Or shakes the centre with his eastern blast ? 
 
 Who from the skies can a whole deluge pour ? 
 
 Who strikes through nature with the solemn roar 
 
 Of dreadful thunder, points it where to fall, 
 
 And in fierce lightning wraps the flying ball 1 130 
 
 Not he who trembles at the darted fires, 
 
 Falls at the sound, and in the flash expires. 
 
 " WHO drew the comet out to such a size, 
 
 And pour'd his flaming train o'er half the skies ? 
 
 Did thy resentment hang him out ? Does he 135 
 
 Glare on the nations, and denounce, from thee ? 
 
 " WHO on low earth can moderate the rein 
 
 That guides the stars along the' ethereal plain, 
 
 Appoint their seasons, and direct their course, 
 
 Their lustre brighten, and supply their force ? 140 
 
 Canst thou the skies' benevolence restrain, 
 
 And cause the Pleiades to shine in vain ? 
 
 Or, when Orion sparkles from his sphere, 
 
 Thaw the cold season, and unbind the year ? 
 
 Bid Mazzaroth his destined station know, 145 
 
 And teach the bright Arcturus where to glow ? 
 
 Mine is the Night, with all her stars : I pour 
 
 Myriads, and myriads I reserve in store. 
 
 " DOST thou pronounce where daylight shall be born, 
 
 And draw the purple curtain of the morn ; 150
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OP JOB. 345 
 
 Awake the sun, and bid him come away, 
 
 And glad thy world with his obsequious ray ] 
 
 Hast thou, enthroned in naming glory, driven 
 
 Triumphant round the spacious ring of heaven 1 
 
 That pomp of light what hand so far displays, 155 
 
 That distant earth lies basking in the blaze 1 
 
 " WHO did the soul with her rich powers invest, 
 
 And light up reason in the human breast, 
 
 To shine, with fresh increase of lustre bright, 
 
 When stars and sun are set in endless night] 160 
 
 To these my various questions make reply." 
 
 THE' Almighty spoke ; and, speaking, shook the sky. 
 
 WHAT then, Chaldsean sire, was thy surprise ! 
 
 Thus thou, with trembling heart and downcast eyes : 
 
 "Once and again, which I in groans deplore, 165 
 
 My tongue has err'd ; but shall presume no more. 
 
 My voice is in eternal silence bound, 
 
 And all my soul falls prostrate to the ground." 
 
 HE ceased : when, lo ! again the' Almighty spoke ; 
 
 The same dread voice from the black whirlwind broke : 
 
 " CAN that arm measure with an Arm Divine ? 171 
 
 And canst thou thunder with a voice like mine 1 
 
 Or in the hollow of thy hand contain 
 
 The bulk of waters, the wide-spreading main, 
 
 When, mad with tempests, all the billows rise 175 
 
 In all their rage, and dash the distant skies ] 
 
 " COME forth, in beauty's excellence array'd ; 
 
 And be the grandeur of thy power display'd ; 
 
 Put on omnipotence, and, frowning, make 
 
 The spacious round of the creation shake ; 180
 
 346 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 Despatch thy vengeance, bid it overthrow 
 
 Triumphant Vice, lay lofty tyrants low, 
 
 And crumble them to dust. When this is done, 
 
 I grant thy safety lodged in thee alone ; 
 
 Of thee thou art, and mayst undaunted stand 185 
 
 Behind the buckler of thine own right hand. 
 
 " FOND man, the vision of a moment made ! 
 
 Dream of a dream, and shadow of a shade ! 
 
 What worlds hast thou produced, what creatures framed, 
 
 What insects cherish'd, that thy God is blamed ? 190 
 
 When,* pain'd with hunger, the wild raven's brood 
 
 Loud calls on God, importunate for food, 
 
 Who hears their cry, who grants their hoarse request, 
 
 And stills the clamour of the craving nest ] 
 
 "Wno in the stupid ostrich f has subdued 195 
 
 A parent's care and fond inquietude ? 
 
 * Another argument that Moses was the author is, that most of the 
 creatures here mentioned are Egyptian. The reason given why the 
 raven is particularly mentioned as an object of the care of Providence is, 
 because by her clamorous and importunate voice she particularly seems 
 always calling upon it. Thence Kopatrtrta, d K<5pct, is " to ask ear- 
 nestly : " (^ELIAN. lib. ii. cap. 48:) and since there were ravens on the 
 banks of the Nile more clamorous than the rest of that species, those 
 probably are meant in this place. 
 
 t There are many instances of this bird's stupidity : let two suffice. 
 First. It covers its head in the reeds, and thinks itself all out of sight : 
 
 Stat famine clauso 
 
 Ridendum revoluta caput, creditque latere 
 Qwm nan ipsa videt. CL.AUDIANUS, In Eutropium, lib. ii. 314. 
 Secondly. They that go in pursuit of them draw the skin of an ostrich's 
 neck on one hand, which proves a sufficient lure to take them with the 
 other. They have so little brain, that Heliogabalus had six hundred 
 heads for his supper. 
 
 Here we may observe, that our judicious as well as sublime author 
 just touches the great points of distinction in each creature, and then 
 hastens to another. A description is exact when you cannot add but
 
 PART OP THE BOOK OP JOB. 347 
 
 While far she flies, her scatter'd eggs are found, 
 
 Without an owner, on the sandy ground : 
 
 Cast out on fortune, they at mercy lie, 
 
 And borrow life from an indulgent sky : 200 
 
 Adopted by the sun, in blaze of day, 
 
 They ripen under his prolific ray ; 
 
 Unmindful she, that some unhappy tread 
 
 May crush her young in their neglected bed. 
 
 What time she skims along the field with speed,* 205 
 
 She scorns the rider and pursuing steed, t 
 
 " How rich the peacock ! What bright glories run 
 
 From plume to plume, and vary in the sun ! 
 
 He proudly spreads them to the golden ray, 
 
 Gives all his colours, and adorns the day ; J 210 
 
 With conscious state the spacious round displays, 
 
 And slowly moves amid the waving blaze. 
 
 what is common to another thing, nor withdraw but something peculi- 
 arly belonging to the thing described. A likeness is lost in too much 
 description, as a meaning often in too much illustration. 
 
 * Here is marked another peculiar quality of this creature, which 
 neither flies nor runs distinctly, but has a motion composed of both, and, 
 using its wings as sails, makes great speed. 
 
 Vatta velut Libyee venantum vocibus ales 
 
 Cum premitur, calidas cursu transmitlit arenas, 
 
 Inque modum veil tinuatis flamine permit 
 
 Pulverulenta volat. CLAUDIANUS, In Eutropium, lib. ii. 310. 
 
 f Xenophon says, Cyrus had horses that could overtake the goat and 
 the wild ass ; but none that could reach this creature. A thousand 
 golden ducats, or a hundred camels, was the stated price of a horse that 
 could equal their speed. 
 
 $ Though this bird is but just mentioned in my author, I could not 
 forbear going a little farther, and spreading those beautiful plumes 
 (which are there shut up) into half a dozen lines. The circumstance I 
 have marked, of his opening his plumes to the sun, is true : Expandit 
 colorct adverse maxime sole, quia tic fulgentiiis radiant. I'LI.NII Hist. 
 Nat. lib. x. cap. 20.
 
 348 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 " WHO taught the hawk to find, in seasons wise, 
 
 Perpetual summer, and a change of skies ? 
 
 When clouds deform the year, she mounts the wind, 215 
 
 Shoots to the south, nor fears the storm behind ; 
 
 The sun returning, she returns again, 
 
 Lives in his beams, and leaves ill days to men. 
 
 " THOUGH strong the hawk,* though practised well to fly, 
 
 An eagle drops her in a lower sky ; 220 
 
 An eagle, when, deserting human sight, 
 
 She seeks the sun in her unwearied flight. 
 
 Did thy command her yellow pinion lift 
 
 So high in air, and set her on the clift, 
 
 Where far above thy world she dwells alone, 225 
 
 And proudly makes the strength of rocks her own ; 
 
 Thence wide o'er nature takes her dread survey, 
 
 And with a glance predestinates her preyH 
 
 She feasts her young with blood ; and, hovering o'er 
 
 The' unslaughter'd host, enjoys the promised gore. 230 
 
 " KNOW'ST thou how many moons, by me assign'd, 
 Boll o'er the mountain goat and forest hind, 
 While pregnant they a mother's load sustain?! 
 They bend in anguish, and cast forth their pain. 
 
 * Thuanus (De Be Accip.) mentions a hawk that flew from Paris to 
 London in a night And the Egyptians, in regard to its swiftness, made 
 it their symbol for the wind; for which reason we may suppose the 
 hawk, as well as the crow above, to have been a bird of note in Egypt. 
 
 t The eagle is said to be of so acute a sight, that when she is so high 
 in air that man cannot see her, she can discern the smallest fish under 
 water. My author accurately understood the nature of the creatures he 
 describes, and seems to have been a naturalist as well as a poet, which 
 the next note will confirm. 
 
 $ The meaning of this question is, " Knowest thou the time and 
 circumstances of their bringing forth ? " For to know the time only was 
 easy, and had nothing extraordinary in it ; but the circumstances had 
 something peculiarly expressive of God's Providence, which makes the
 
 PART OP THE BOOK OF JOB. 349 
 
 Hale are their young, from human frailties freed ; 235 
 
 Walk unsustain'd, and unassisted feed : 
 
 They live at once, forsake the dam's warm side, 
 
 Take the wide world, with Nature for their guide, 
 
 Bound o'er the lawn, or seek the distant glade, 
 
 And find a home in each delightful shade. 240 
 
 " WILL the tall reem, which knows no lord but me, 
 
 Low at the crib, and ask an alms of thee ? 
 
 Submit his unworn shoulder to the yoke, 
 
 Break the stiff clod, and o'er thy furrow smoke 1 
 
 Since great his strength, go trust him, void of care ; 245 
 
 Lay on his neck the toil of all the year ; 
 
 Bid him bring home the seasons to thy doors, 
 
 And cast his load among thy gather'd stores. 
 
 " DIDST thou from service the wild ass discharge, 
 
 And break his bonds, and bid him live at large, 250 
 
 Through the wide waste, his ample mansion, roam, 
 
 And lose himself in his unbounded home ] 
 
 By Nature's hand magnificently fed, 
 
 His meal is on the range of mountains spread : 
 
 As in pure air aloft he bounds along, 255 
 
 He sees in distant smoke the city throng ; 
 
 Conscious of freedom, scorns the smother'd train, 
 
 The threatening driver, and the servile rein. 
 
 " SCKVBT the warlike horse : * didst thou invest 
 
 With thunder his robust distended chest 1 260 
 
 question proper in this place. Pliny observes, that the hind with young 
 is by instinct directed to a certain herb called letelit, which facilitates 
 the birth. Thunder also (which looks like the more immediate hand 
 of Providence) has the same effect. (Psalm xxix. 9,) In so early an age 
 to observe these things, may style our author a naturalist. 
 
 * The description of the horse is the most celebrated of any in the 
 
 poem. There is an excellent critique on it in the "Guardians." I shall 
 
 H H
 
 350 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 No sense of fear his dauntless soul allays ; 
 
 'T is dreadful to behold his nostrils blaze ; 
 
 To paw the vale he proudly takes delight, 
 
 And triumphs in the fulness of his might. 
 
 High-raised he snuffs the battle from afar, 265 
 
 And burns to plunge amid the raging war ; 
 
 And mocks at death, and throws his foam around, 
 
 And in a storm of fury shakes the ground. 
 
 How does his firm, his rising heart advance 
 
 Full on the brandish'd sword, and shaken lance ; 270 
 
 While his fix'd eye-balls meet the dazzling shield, 
 
 Gaze, and return the lightning of the field ! 
 
 He sinks the sense of pain in generous pride, 
 
 Nor feels the shaft that trembles in his side ; 
 
 But neighs to the shrill trumpet's dreadful blast 275 
 
 Till death ; and when he groans, he groans his last. 
 
 " BUT, fiercer still, the lordly lion stalks, 
 
 Grimly majestic in his lonely walks : 
 
 When round he glares, all living creatures fly ; 
 
 He clears the desert with his rolling eye. 280 
 
 Say, mortal, does he rouse at thy command, 
 
 And roar to thee, and live upon thy hand ] 
 
 therefore only observe, that in this description, as in other parts of this 
 speech, our vulgar translation has much more spirit than the Septua- 
 gint ; it always takes the original in the most poetic and exalted sense ; 
 so that most commentators, even on the Hebrew itself, fall beneath it. 
 
 [The preceding note by the author was inserted in all the early 
 editions of this Paraphrase, but was omitted in the collected Works in 
 1762. The critique in the "Guardian," (Number 86,) was published 
 1713, and is dated from " Oxford, June 16," where Young was then a 
 resident; and there is no improbability in the supposition, that it was 
 written by himself, in grateful acknowledgment of the handsome manner 
 in which some passages " taken out of his manuscript poem On Oie Last 
 Day," had been quoted in Number 51 ; and it was there announced as 
 " shortly to appear in public." EDIT.]
 
 PART OF THE BOOK OP JOB. 351 
 
 Dost thou for him in forests bend thy bow, 
 
 And to his gloomy den the morsel throw, 
 
 Where, bent on death, lie hid his tawny brood, 285 
 
 And, couch'd in dreadful ambush, pant for blood ; 
 
 Or, stretch'd on broken limbs, consume the day, 
 
 In darkness wrapp'd, and slumber o'er their prey ] 
 
 By the pale moon they take their destin'd round,* 
 
 And lash their sides, and furious tear the ground. 290 
 
 Now shrieks and dying groans the desert fill ; 
 
 They rage, they rend ; their ravenous jaws distil 
 
 With crimson foam ; and, when the banquet 'a o'er, 
 
 They stride away, and paint their steps with gore. 
 
 In flight alone the shepherd puts his trust, 295 
 
 And shudders at the talon in the dust. 
 
 is my behemoth, though large his frame ; 
 Smooth is his temper, and repress'd his flame, 
 While unprovoked. This native of the flood 
 Lifts his broad foot, and puts ashore for food : 300 
 
 Earth sinks beneath him, as he moves along 
 To seek the herds,t and mingle with the throng. 
 See with what strength his harden'd loins are bound, 
 All over proof and shut against a wound. 
 How like a mountain-cedar moves bis tail ! 305 
 
 Nor can his complicated sinews fail. 
 Built high and wide, his solid bones surpass 
 The bars of steel ; his ribs are ribs of brass ; 
 His port majestic, and his armed jaw, 
 Give the wide forest, and the mountain, law. 310 
 
 * Pursuing their prey by night is true of most wild beasts, particularly 
 the lion. (Psalm civ. 20. i The Arabians have one among their five 
 hundred names for the lion which signifies " the hunter by moonshine." 
 
 t This is the reading of the early editions of the poem, which agrees 
 well with the other portion of the verse, "to mingle with the throng." 
 But in the collected Works of 1762, it is altered into herbt ; which may 
 also be correct, as indicating one of the habits of the animal. EDIT. 
 2 H 2
 
 352 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 The mountains feed him ; there the beasts admire 
 
 The mighty stranger, and in dread retire ; 
 
 At length his greatness nearer they survey, 
 
 Graze in his shadow, and his eye obey. 
 
 The fens and marshes are his cool retreat, 315 
 
 His noontide shelter from the burning heat ; 
 
 Their sedgy bosoms his wide couch are made, 
 
 And groves of willows give him all their shade. 
 
 His eye drinks Jordan up, when, fired with drought, 
 
 He trusts to turn its current down his throat ; 320 
 
 In lessen'd waves it creeps along the plain : 
 
 He sinks a river, and he thirsts again.* 
 
 " Go to the Nile, and, from its fruitful side, 
 
 Cast forth thy line into the swelling tide : 
 
 With slender hair leviathan command, 325 
 
 And stretch his vastness on the loaded strand, t 
 
 Will he become thy servant ? Will he own 
 
 Thy lordly nod, and tremble at thy frown ? 
 
 Or with his sport amuse thy leisure-day, 
 
 And, bound in silk, with thy soft maidens play ] 330 
 
 " SHALL pompous banquets swell with such a prize, 
 And the bowl journey round his ample size ? 
 
 * Cephisi gladale captit, qud suelus anhelam 
 Ferre sitim Python, amnemque avertere ponto. 
 
 STATII Thebait, lib. vii. 349. 
 
 Qui spirit tegeret monies, haiiriret hiatu 
 
 Flwnina, $c. CLAUDIANUS, In Rufinum, Praef. ad lib. i. 3. 
 
 Let not, then, this hyperbole seem too much for an eastern poet, 
 though some commentators of name strain hard in this place for a new 
 construction, through fear of it. 
 
 t The taking the crocodile is most difficult. Diodorus says, they are 
 not to be taken but by iron nets. When Augustus conquered Egypt, he 
 struck a medal, the impress of which was a crocodile chained to a palm- 
 tree, with this inscription, Nemo antea rellgavit.
 
 PART OP THE BOOK OF JOB. 353 
 
 Or the debating merchants share the prey, 
 
 And various limbs to various marts convey ] 
 
 Through his firm skull what steel its way can win ] 335 
 
 What forceful engine can subdue his skin ? 
 
 Fly far, and live ; tempt not his matchless might : 
 
 The bravest shrink to cowards in his sight ; 
 
 The rashest dare not rouse him up : * Who, then, 
 
 Shall turn on me, among the sons of men 1 340 
 
 "An I a debtor] Hast thou ever heard 
 
 Whence come the gifts that are on me conferr'd 1 
 
 My lavish fruit a thousand valleys fills, 
 
 And mine the herds that graze a thousand hills : 
 
 Earth, sea, and air, all nature is my own ; 345 
 
 And stars and sun are dust beneath my throne. 
 
 And darest thou with the world's great Father vie, 
 
 Thou, who dost tremble at my creature's eye? 
 
 " AT full my huge leviathan shall rise, 
 
 Boast all his strength, and spread his wondrous size. 350 
 
 Who, great in arms, e'er stripp'd his shining mail, 
 
 Or crown'd his triumph with a single scale 1 
 
 Whose heart sustains him to draw near ] Behold, 
 
 Destruction yawns ; his spacious jaws unfold, f 
 
 And, marshall'd round the wide expanse, disclose 355 
 
 Teeth edged with death, and crowding rows on rows. 
 
 What hideous fangs on either side arise ! 
 
 And what a deep abyss between them lies ! 
 
 * This alludes to a custom of this creature, which is, when sated with 
 fish, to come ashore and sleep among the reeds. 
 
 t The crocodile's mouth is exceeding wide. When he gapes, says 
 Pliny,/< totum os. Martial says to his old woman, 
 
 Ciim comparata rictibut tuU ora 
 
 Niliacut habcat crocodilus angusta.lA'b. iii. Epig. xciii. 6. 
 
 So that the expression there is barely just. 
 2 H 3
 
 354 PARAPHRASE ON 
 
 Mete with thy lance, and with thy plummet sound, 
 
 The one how long, the other how profound. 360 
 
 " His bulk is charged with such a furious soul, 
 
 That clouds of smoke from his spread nostrils roll, 
 
 As from a furnace ; and, when roused his ire, 
 
 Fate issues from his jaws in streams of fire.* 
 
 The rage of tempests, and the roar of seas, 365 
 
 Thy terror, this thy great superior please. 
 
 Strength on his ample shoulder sits in state ; 
 
 His well-join'd limbs are dreadfully complete ; 
 
 His flakes of solid flesh are slow to part ; 
 
 As steel his nerves, as adamant his heart. 370 
 
 " WHEN, late awaked, he rears him from the floods, 
 
 And, stretching forth his stature to the clouds, 
 
 Writhes in the sun aloft his scaly height, 
 
 And strikes the distant hills with transient light, 
 
 Far round are fatal damps of terror spread ; 375 
 
 The mighty fear, nor blush to own their dread. 
 
 " LAROK is his front ; and when his burnish'd eyes 
 Lift their broad lids, the morning seems to rise.r 
 
 * This too is nearer truth than at first view may be imagined. The 
 crocodile, say the naturalists, lying long under water, and being there 
 forced to hold its breath, when it emerges, the breath long repressed is 
 hot, and bursts out so violently, that it resembles fire and smoke. The 
 horse suppresses not his breath by any means so long, neither is he so 
 fierce and animated ; yet the most correct of poets ventures to use the 
 same metaphor concerning him : 
 
 Cottectumque preraens volvit rub narilms ignem. 
 
 VIROILII Georg. lib. iii. 85. 
 
 By this and the foregoing note I would caution against a false opinion 
 f the eastern boldness, from passages in them ill understood. 
 
 t Hit eyes are like the eye-lids of the morning. I think this gives us 
 as great an image of the thing it would express, as can enter the thought 
 of man. It is not improbable that the Egyptians stole their hieroglyphic
 
 PAKT Of THE BOOK OF JOB. 855 
 
 " IN vain may death in various shapes invade, 
 
 The swift-wing'd arrow, the descending blade : 380 
 
 His naked breast their impotence defies ; 
 
 The dart rebounds, the brittle falchion flies. 
 
 Shut in himself, the war without he hears, 
 
 Safe in the tempest of their rattling spears ; 
 
 The cumber'd strand their wasted volleys strow ; 385 
 
 His sport, the rage and labour of the foe. 
 
 " His pastimes like a caldron boil the flood, 
 
 And blacken ocean with the rising mud ; 
 
 The billows feel him, as he works his way ; 
 
 His hoary footsteps shine along the sea ; 390 
 
 The foam, high-wrought, with white divides the green, 
 
 And distant sailors point where death has been. 
 
 " His like earth bears not on her spacious face : 
 
 Alone in nature stands his dauntless race, 
 
 For utter ignorance of fear renown'd. 395 
 
 In wrath he rolls his baleful eye around ; 
 
 for the morning, which is the crocodile's eye, from this passage, though 
 no commentator I have seen mentions it. It is easy to conceive how the 
 Egyptians should be both readers and admirers of the writings of Moses, 
 whom I suppose the author of this poem. 
 
 I have observed already that three or four of the creatures here 
 described are Egyptian : the two last are notoriously so ; they are the 
 river-horse and the crocodile, those celebrated inhabitants of the Nile ; 
 and on these two it is that our author chiefly dwells. It would have 
 been expected from an author more remote from that river than Moses, 
 in a catalogue of creatures produced to magnify their Creator, to have 
 dwelt on the two largest works of Hid hand, viz., the elephant and the 
 whale. This is so natural an expectation, that some commentators have 
 rendered behemoth and leviathan " the elephant " and " whale," though 
 the descriptions in our author will not admit of it ; but Moses being, as 
 we may well suppose, under an immediate terror of the hippopotamos 
 and crocodile, from their daily mischiefs and ravages around him, it is 
 very accountable why he should permit them to take place.
 
 356 PARAPHRASE ON PART OF THE BOOK OP JOB. 
 
 Makes every swoln, disdainful heart subside, 
 And holds dominion o'er the sons of pride." 
 
 THEN the Chaldaean eased his labouring breast, 
 
 With full conviction of his crime oppress'd : 400 
 
 " THOU canst accomplish all things, Lord of might ! 
 
 And every thought is naked to Thy sight. 
 
 But, ! Thy ways are wonderful, and lie 
 
 Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye. 
 
 Oft have I heard of Thine almighty power, 405 
 
 But never saw Thee till this dreadful hour. 
 
 O'erwhelm'd with shame, the Lord of life I see, 
 
 Abhor myself, and give my soul to Thee. 
 
 Nor shall my weakness tempt Thine anger more : 
 
 Man was not made to question, but adore." 410 
 
 K OF PARAPHRASE ON THE BOOK OF JOB.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 The figures denote the page. 
 
 A 
 
 Addison, quoted, 89, n. 
 
 Address, to Death, 13 to the great and indolent, 30 to 
 the lilies of the field, 53 to the aged, 74 to God, as 
 the Creator, 75 ; on His mercy, love, and justice, 77 ; on 
 the perfection of His ways, 275 ; as the essence of bliss 
 and true happiness, 278 ; as omniscient, omnipresent, the 
 great First Cause and Father of all, 327 to the ocean, 
 220 to night, 278, 311 to the stars, 296 to Jesus 
 Christ, as God-Man, 332 to Lorenzo, to awake from 
 sleep, 334 
 
 Adjuration, solemn, the author's, by night, addressed to 
 Lorenzo, 324 
 
 Mlian, quoted, 346, n. 
 
 Affliction, beneficial to good men, 273 
 
 Age and disease, the harbingers of death, 64 
 
 Aged, the, less heedful of death's approach than the young, 
 117 absurdities of, 118 
 
 Allegory, on sleep, 7 on time, 27 on aged trees, 74 on 
 experience, 74 on the end of life, 74 on learning, 106 
 on pleasure, 232 
 
 Almighty, the, reproves Job for his boldness and ignorance, 
 341 omnipotence of, 345, 356 providence of, 346. See 
 God. 
 
 Altamont, death of, 112 
 
 Ambition, and avarice, the influence of, 143, 148 true, 
 described, 143 a proof of immortality, 177 
 
 Analogy, man's surest guide, 158 
 
 Angels, half their joy derived from friendship, 41 and 
 men, compared, 87 the relationship between, 91 the 
 war of, 199 
 
 Annihilation, the absurdities and horrors of, urged, 192 
 
 Arts, human, surpassed by nature, 289 
 
 Aspasia and Lysander, their story, 129 
 
 Ass, wild, described, 349 
 
 Astrology, true, what it is, found out, 293
 
 858 INDEX. 
 
 Author, the, prefaces by, 3, 69, 133, 163 his disappoint- 
 ments, 73 predicted fate of his book, 256 his prayer for 
 himself, 331 his dedication to Lord Macclesfield, 337 
 
 Avarice furnishes an argument of immortality, 180 
 
 B 
 
 Balchen, Admiral, death of, alluded to, 220 
 Behemoth, described, 351 
 Bell, striking of a, its language and import, 8 
 Bible, reading of the, recommended, 208, 238 
 Blessed, the, see the works of creation in their due propor- 
 tion, 216 
 
 Brutes, in what light superior to man, 176 happier than 
 rational beings, 189 
 
 C 
 
 Christ, His crucifixion described, 78 His life, death, and 
 ascension proofe of immortality, 79 His philanthropy, 
 89 
 
 Christian, the dignity of a, 95 compared to a ship at sea, 
 247 difference between him and the men of the world, 
 247 
 
 Claudian, quoted, 346, n., 347, n., 352, n. 
 
 Clouds, a fine description of them, 278 and rain, 
 described, 343 
 
 Comets, described, 344 
 
 Complaint, the, of a good man, on the supposition of no 
 future existence, 186 
 
 Conscience, the treachery of, 31 the power of, whence it is 
 derived, 203 
 
 Conversation, the benefits of, 38 fits for solitude, 38 
 
 Creation, a specimen and earnest of God's power, 142 the 
 magnificence of, a mockery on man, if doomed to annihi- 
 lation, 191 the end of it, immortality, 199 described, 
 341 
 
 Crimes, covered by night, 290 
 
 Cyrus, fleet horses of, mentioned, 347, n. 
 
 Darkness and light, described, 342 
 of judgment, described, 266
 
 IHDEX. 359 
 
 Daylight, described, 344 
 
 Dead, the, folly of lamenting, 10 pity more justly the 
 living, 10 who properly mourn, 24 heinousness of vio- 
 lating, 55 
 
 Death, the proprietor of, all, 13 sudden and unexpected, 
 the danger of, 18 damps all worldly enjoyments, 34 
 the great advantages derived from, 65 to be welcomed 
 by age, 71 the swiftness of its progress, 95 of friends, 
 how to be improved, 110, 206 the thought of, an anti- 
 dote against the fear of, 119, 333 characterized, 121 
 insidiousness or treachery of, 123 the different forms in 
 which it appears, 123 the uncertainty of, should excite 
 us to watchfulness, 125 domains of, described, 342 
 
 Death-bed, of the just, described, 42 of friends, a fine 
 description of the, 114 
 
 Dedication to Lord Macclesfield, the author's, 337 
 
 Deluge, the, and conflagration of all things, described, 265 
 
 Description of true ambition, 143 of the wild ass, 349 
 of the behemoth, 351 of the crucifixion of Christ, 78 
 of the clouds, 278, 343 of comets, 344 of the creation, 
 341 of darkness, 342 of the day of judgment, 266 
 of daylight, 344 of the domains of death, 342 of the 
 death-bed of the just, 42 of the death of friends, 114 
 of the deluge, and conflagration of all things, 265 of 
 dew, 343 of the eagle, 348 of true economy, 150 
 of eternity, 153 of a summer's evening, 44 of fame, 
 178 of fields, 343 of the bosom of a friend, 39 of 
 pompous funerals, 325 of the goat, 348 of God, 83 
 of the grave, 10, 34, 57 of true greatness, 228 of hail, 
 344_of earthly happiness, 221 of the hawk, 348 of 
 hell, 267, 333 of the different kinds of hope, 170, 211 
 of the horse, 349 of the nature of immortality, 138 of 
 infancy, 222 of learning, 106 of the leviathan, 216, 352, 
 353 of light, 342 of lightning, 344 of the lion, 350 
 of the heart of man, 170 of the man of the world, 223 
 of the ministers of God, 288 of mists, 343 of the crea- 
 tion of mountains, 341 of night, 7, 278, 283, 311, 344 
 of the ocean, 220 of the ostrich, 346 of the peacock, 
 347 of the death of Philander, 43 of rain, 343 of the 
 boasted friends of reason, 94 of the reem, 349 of rivers, 
 343 of the creation of the seas, 342 of the seasons, 156, 
 344 of sleep, 326 of the snows, 344 of solitude, 104
 
 360 INDEX. 
 
 of high station, 144 of storms, 344 of thunder, 344 
 of the end of time, 270 of truth, 96 of true wealth, 
 148 of the whirlwind, 343 of the winds, 344 of wit, 
 251 of true worth, 146 
 
 Devil, his sentence, what, 269 
 
 Dew and mists, described, 343 
 
 Diodorus, quoted, 352, n. 
 
 Discontent, man's, a proof of immortality, 168 
 
 Disease, the harbinger of death, 64 
 
 Diversions, censured, 25 
 
 Dreams, a proof of the soul's immortality, 10 
 
 E 
 
 Eagle, the, described, 348 
 
 Earth, the region of melancholy, 10 not to be trusted in, 
 
 64 
 
 Economy, true, described, 150 
 End of time, a fine description of the, 270 
 Epitaph, on the human race, supposing no future state, 195 
 Eternity, description of, 153 
 Evening, fine description of a summer's, 44 
 Experience, its language, 35 
 
 F 
 
 Faith, disarms death of its terrors, 93 
 
 Fame, vanity of, 74 fondness for, disavowed by man, 177 
 
 described, 178 
 
 Fear of a future state, a proof of its reality, 207 
 Fields and rivers, described, 343 
 Firmament, what it is, 293 
 Florello, his story, 222 
 
 Folly, subject to misery, 226 and wisdom, contrasted, 242 
 Friend, the bosom of a, finely described, 39 
 Friends, real, the value of, 37, 38 God's design in taking 
 
 them from us, 110, 272 dying, a striking description of, 
 
 114 death of, how to be improved, 205 
 Friendship, benefits of, 37 directions for preserving, 40 
 Funerals, description of pompous, 325 
 Future state, a good man's complaint, supposing none, 186
 
 361 
 
 G 
 
 Glory, true, wherein it consists, 228 
 
 Goat, the, described, 348 
 
 God, erroneously denned by infidels, 78 a sublime descrip- 
 tion of, 83 in what light viewed by the believer, 195 ; 
 by those who favour annihilation, 196 denied, creates 
 innumerable mysteries, 210 all He does right, 272 
 decrees of, vindicated, 272 
 
 Goldsmith, Dr., quoted, 74, n. 
 
 Good man, the, exposed to trials in this life, 246 charac- 
 terized, 247 
 
 Grave, a description of the, 10, 34, 67 a real hell, if there 
 is no future state, 192 
 
 Great, the, their mistaken notions of friendship, 40 
 
 Greatness, true, described, 228 
 
 Grief, the proper school of wisdom, 106 
 
 Guardian, the, quoted, 349, n., 350, ra. 
 
 Hail and snows, described, 344 
 
 Happiness, earthly, its insufficiency and emptiness, 15 
 
 described, 221 present, an earnest of future pain, 16 
 
 where her sole residence on earth, 39 true, what it is, 
 
 243, 245 
 
 Hawk, the, described, 348 
 Health of the mind, what it is, 242 
 Heaven, the favours of, their nature explained, 17 
 Heavens, starry, questions suggested by a view of the, 299 
 Heliogabulus, an instance of his extravagance in eating, 
 
 mentioned, 346, n. 
 Hell, described, 267, 333 
 Hope, the different kinds of, described, 170, 211 a proof 
 
 of immortality, 170 true, its benefits, 211 false, its 
 
 dictates, 211 
 Horace, quoted, 158, n. 
 Horse, the warlike, described, 349 
 Hours, past, the wisdom of talking with them, 34 
 Human pursuits, the vanity of, 11 
 Humility, the praise of, 229
 
 862 
 
 Idleness, the bane of the soul, 27 
 
 Ills, proceed from man alone, 274 the intent of, 276 
 
 Imagination, her numerous follies, 244 
 
 Immortality, the nature of, described, 138 the value of, 
 138 knowledge to be derived from, 141 its beneficial 
 influence on the soul, 152 proved, from nature, 155; 
 from man's discontent, 168 ; from his powers and pas- 
 sions, 169 ; from the gradual growth of his reason, 169 ; 
 from the fear of death, 170 ; from ambition, 177 ; from 
 avarice, 180 ; from pleasure, 181 a belief of, the source 
 of true courage, 173 
 
 Infancy, described, 222 
 
 Infidel, an, the most frantic of madmen, 169 
 
 Infidelity, the cause of, 203 
 
 Infidels, their character at large, 203 in what respects 
 they resemble Satan, 207 
 
 Inscription on those who believe the doctrine of annihila- 
 tion, 192 
 
 Instinct, in animals, in what respect wiser than reason in 
 man, 189 
 
 Job, his prosperous condition, 339 his sad reverses, 339 
 curses his fate, 340 his warm debate with his friends, 
 340 addressed by the Almighty, 341, 345 reproved for 
 his boldness and ignorance, 341 confesses his presump- 
 tion, 345, 356 
 
 Job, the book of, difference of opinion respecting the author 
 of, 339, n. reasons for ascribing it to Moses, 339, n,, 
 342, n., 346, n., 355, n. is fiction built on truth, 341, n. 
 
 Joy, the essence of heaven, 193 true, learned from scrip- 
 ture, 238 
 
 Judgment, the day of, described, 266 
 
 K 
 
 Kissing the pope's toe, the custom of, ridiculed, 245 
 Knowledge, a real evil, if the system of tho infidel is 
 
 adopted, 187 
 Korah, Datluin, and Abiram, rebellion of, alluded to, 201
 
 363 
 
 Laughter, much indulged, censured, 237 
 
 Learning, described, 106 true, denned, 121 
 
 Leviathan, the, described, 216, 352, 353 
 
 Lichfield, Earl of, notices of, 136, n. 
 
 Life, the dawn of existence, 10 various evils to which it 
 is subject enumerated, 17 the shortness of, 120 how to 
 be valued, 122 length of, how to be computed, 122 
 the different stages of, 222 
 
 Light and darkness, described, 342 
 
 Lightning and thunder, described, 344 
 
 Lion, the, described, 350 
 
 Longinus, quoted, 339, n. 
 
 Lorenzo, advice to, 18, 59, 140, 236 address to, 54, 64, 290 
 
 Love and joy, the essence of heaven, 193 
 
 Lysander and Aspasia, their story, 129 
 
 M 
 
 Macdesfield, Lord, dedication to, 337 
 
 Man, the complicated nature of, 9 his littleness and 
 greatness, 9 attached solely to this world, 11 his neg- 
 lect of time, 36 places all pleasure in the gratification 
 of his passions, 53 his unreasonable fears of death, 71 
 through redemption, superior to the angels, 84 the 
 cause of his misery, 127 his birth and death, 146 hia 
 heart described, 170 of the world, described, 223 a 
 melancholy but true picture of, 323 
 
 Martial, quoted, 353, n. 
 
 Men of the world, wherein they differ from the real Chris- 
 tian, 247 
 
 Milton, alluded to, 208 
 
 Ministers of God, a description of the, 288 
 
 Mists and dew, described, 343 
 
 Moon, for what end created, 290 her influence respecting 
 the tides. 297 
 
 Morality, true, defined, 94 
 
 Mountains, creation of, described, 341 
 
 N 
 
 Nardssa, death and character of, 52 
 2 i 2
 
 864 INDEX. 
 
 Nature, and man, compared, 156 the speech of, 322 
 Necessity, the doctrine of, disapproved, 206 
 Night, a fine description of, 7, 278, 283, 311, 344 its pre- 
 eminence over day, 102, 283 a friend to religion, 286 
 Nobility, wealth, and fame, the vanity of, 73 
 
 
 
 Obligations, religious and moral, all rendered void on the 
 
 plan of infidelity, 189 
 Ocean, a description of the, 220 
 Ostrich, the, described, 346 
 
 Passions, and powers, human, evince an immortality, 169 
 
 grandeur of the, 183 origin of the, 183 
 Patience and resignation, the pillars of human peace, 246 
 Patrick, Bishop, remarks of, on the Almighty's speech to 
 
 Job, 339, n. 
 
 Peace and pleasure, from whence derived, 227 
 Peacock, the, described, 347 
 Philander, the effects his last sigh had upon the author, 17 
 
 his death elegantly described, 43 
 Pleasure, proves the existence of a future state, 181 what 
 
 it is, 230 the love of, universally predominant, 231 
 
 the praise of, vindicated, 232 the origin of, 233 its 
 
 purpose and end, 234 nature of, 234 
 Pleasures, various kinds of, pursued, 231, 234 prohibited 
 
 by conscience, unnatural, 240 
 Pliny, quoted, 347, n., 349, n., 353, n. 
 Poetry and prose, their affinity, 101 
 Pope, Mr., panegyric on, 20 quoted, 317 
 Pope of Rome, infallibility of, alluded to, 186 
 Portland, duchess of, notices of, 50, n. 
 Praise, the love of, its effects, 179 
 
 Prayer, secret, what it is, 236 an asylum in trouble, 330 
 Preface, the authors, to the Night Thoughts, 3 to Night 
 
 IV., 69 to Night VI, 133 to Night VII., 163 
 Pride, and pleasure, compared, 99 reconciled by wit, 99 
 Prince, the truly great, defined, 147 
 Pursuits of mankind, what are the, 217
 
 INDEX. 365 
 
 Q 
 
 Questions, various, unresolvable, but on the supposition of 
 an immortality. 185 
 
 an immortality, 185 
 
 B 
 
 Rain and douds, described, 343 
 
 Reason, the boasted friends of, described, 94 and instinct, 
 compared, 169 the slow growth of, an evidence of 
 immortality, 169 peculiar to man, 211 lit up by God, 
 and intended to increase for ever, 345 
 
 Redemption of man, descant on the, 80 
 
 Reem, the, described, 349 
 
 Reflection, the benefits of, 34 
 
 Religion, the blessings derived from, 87 
 
 Riches, of no avail in death, 128 
 
 Rivers and fields, described, 343 
 
 Ruin of man, from himself, 206 
 
 S 
 
 Scale of beings, 157 
 
 Scriptures, value of the, 208 why contemned by infidels, 
 
 238 
 
 Seas, creation of the, described, 342 
 Seasons, the, described, 156, 344 emblems of man, 156 
 Self-knowledge, the sum of wisdom, 86 
 Sense, distinguishes the brute from man, 211 
 Senses, extensive power of the, 148 
 Shame, the sensation of, for what purpose implanted in 
 
 man, 177 
 
 Silence and darkness, sisters, 8 
 Similes : 
 
 Aged, the, compared to damaged clocks, 118 
 
 Annihilation, to the fall of Lucifer, 187 
 
 Author, the, to a worm, 11 to a shipwrecked mariner, 
 73 to a shepherd, 73 to a traveller, 261 
 
 Christ, love of, to men, to that of Jacob for Joseph, 89 
 second coming of, to a comet, 92 
 
 Christian, to a ship at sea, 247 
 
 Cock, a, to the last trumpet, 23 
 2 I 3
 
 366 INDEX. 
 
 Similes (continued). 
 
 Creation, to a net, 303 to a gem, 306 
 
 Death, to a harvest, 65 to an army, 135 
 
 Earth, the, to a map of man, 15 
 
 Eternity, to an ocean, 205 
 
 Friends, dying, to a cloud, 58 the loss of, to an engine 
 of torture, 135 
 
 Friendship, to honey, 37 
 
 Future state, to the end of a drama, 146 
 
 God, to a builder, 286 
 
 Great, death of the, to the fall of an oak, 129 
 
 Happiness, to Vulcan, 244 
 
 Hope, to a cordial, 211 
 
 Joys, human, to the reflection of objects in the water, 130 
 
 Life, the good man's, to the moon, 62 to a brook, 111 
 to a battle, 117 to a stage, 146 
 
 Man, at the last hour of life, to a ship driven out to sea, 
 25 in his neglect of death, to Jehu, 120 to a spider, 
 142 to sheep, 168 
 
 Mankind, to navigators, 219 
 
 Men, to children, 26 to comedians, 72 old, to aged 
 trees, 74 wicked, to serpents, 228 
 
 Night, to a widow in her weeds, 320 
 
 Prosperity, to the light of day, 108 to a comet, 126 
 
 Recollection, to a murderer, 13 
 
 Sickness, a dangerous, to the cast of a die, 136 
 
 Sorrow, to a plough, 107 
 
 Soul, a redeemed, to a prisoner released, 88 
 
 Souls of men, at the resurrection, to a swarm of bees, 195 
 
 Thoughts, to plants, 107 of the wicked, to a vessel at 
 sea, 244 
 
 Time, to Samson, 334 
 
 Vice, to a pestilence, 244 
 
 World, the, to a small isle, 87 to a ship, 91 to a 
 troubled sea, 219 to a book, 225 to a human figure, 
 225 
 
 Sinner, the hardened, his wretohed state, 262 
 Skies, the, prove the being of a God, 281 
 Sky, the, not the habitation of God, 285 the effects of 
 
 contemplating, 288 
 Sleep, a fine description of, 326 
 Snows and hails, described, 344
 
 INDEX. 367 
 
 Soldier, peculiar hard fate of the, 14 
 
 Solitude, the advantages of, 49 the companion of safety, 
 
 104 what it is described, 104 
 Sorrow, the common lot of all mankind, 15 ennobles and 
 
 degrades our nature, 16 
 Soul, the, a stranger here below, 112 the value of, 197 
 
 for what end created, 292 
 Speech, the advantage of, 37 
 Spirits, departed, their thoughts of men, 333 
 Starry heavens, benefits arising from a view of the, 284 
 Stars, instructive, 280 supposed to be suns, 284 how 
 
 kept in their places, 296 prove the being of a God, 300 
 
 address to them, 300 their origin, 320 fixed, their 
 
 immense distance from the earth, 306 
 Statesmen, the wiles of, 225 
 Station, high, described, 144 
 Statins, quoted, 352, n. 
 Storms and winds, described, 344 
 Subjects insisted on in the Night Thoughts, 101 
 Suicide, peculiar propensity of the English to, 112 the 
 
 cause of, defined, 113 a picture of, 254 
 Superstition, the cruelty and popish bigotry of, displayed, 54 
 
 T 
 
 Tears, indulged, deserve shame, 53 their different sources, 
 114 
 
 Thought, of death, how beneficial, 59 a real evil, if the 
 system of the infidel is adopted, 187 serious, the import- 
 ance of, 256 
 
 Thoughts, the importance of guarding our, 26 
 
 Thuanus, quoted, 348, n. 
 
 Thunder, and lightning, described, 344 an effect of, in 
 she-goats, 349, n. 
 
 Time, its value, 24 and eternity, the meeting of, 270 
 fine description of the end of, 270 
 
 Tombs, instruction derived from, 107 
 
 Truth, description of, 96 
 
 Unbelief, defined, 202 
 
 Understanding, the benefits and use of, 148
 
 Vice, a definition of, 322 
 
 Vicious men, their enjoyments destitute of stability, 148 
 
 Virgil, quoted, 354, n. 
 
 Virtue, alone, can inspire us with confidence in death, 43 
 attended with what consequences, 61 lightens the 
 evils of life, 62, 150 its durability, 145 a crime, if the 
 doctrine of the future state is rejected, 189 suffers here 
 below, 226 
 
 W 
 
 Warnings, the use of, 35 
 
 Wealth, the vanity of, 74 true, described, 148 
 
 Wesley, Rev. Charles, an imitator of Young in one of his 
 hymns, 158, n. 
 
 Whirlwind, the, described, 343 
 
 Winds and storms, described, 344 
 
 Winter, as necessary and beneficial as the spring, 276 
 
 Wisdom, her admonitions, when most prevalent, 107 and 
 folly, contrasted, 242 true, the operations and advan- 
 tages of, 252 
 
 Wishes, proofs of immortality, 170 
 
 Wishing, the folly of, 73 
 
 Wit, a true description of, 251 
 
 Woes, usually assail us in clusters, 51 
 
 World, the, a point only in the creation, 100 this, defined, 
 216, 219 a man of the, described. 223 much knowledge 
 of the, necessary to our safety, 253 the present, a grave, 
 264 
 
 Worth, true, described, 146 
 
 X 
 
 Xenophon, quoted, 347, n. 
 
 Y 
 
 Young, Lady Elizabeth, notices of, 136, n., 255, n. 
 
 LONDON : FEINTED BY JAMES NICHOLS, HOXTON-SQUARE.
 
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