~ ' RubluhZ in' f.Armru, u^BaantHttr 3m: Da i G H T THOUG E.I>WA1VI> Yo TJ 3V G , J-.t.D L Chapman &r G THE MOST HONOURABLE THE MARCHIONESS OF SALISBURY; THIS EDITION OF A WORK, IN WHICH GENIUS AND ART UNITE, IN THE SERVICE OF TASTE AND MORALS, i IS DEDICATED, BY HER LADYSHIP'S MOST RESPECTFUL AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, Of ""1 ; THE LIFE OF EDWARD YOUNG, the justly celebrated Au- thor of the Night Thoughts, and other pieces, was born in 1684, at Upham, in Hampshire. His father, Edward Young, the rector of that place, and dean of Sarum, was a learned and judicious divine. Our Author, who was his only son, received the early part of his educa- tion at Winchester college ; and on the 13th of October 1703, at the age of nineteen, was elected on the foundation of New College, Oxford. In this society his continuance was short ; for before the end of the year he re- moved to Corpus Christi, where he entered himself a gentleman commoner. In 1708, he was put into a law fellowship, at All Souls, by archbishop Tennison. At this college, in 1714, he took the degree of B. C. L. and in 1719, that of D. C. L. In this year he published Busiris, a tragedy; in 1721, the Revenge ; and in 1723, the Brothers. About this time he also published his poem on the a 2 LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. Last Day, which being written by a layman, gave the more satisfaction. He soon after sent into the world the Force of Religion, or Van- quished Love, a poem, which was also well re- ceived by the public, and especially by the noble family, for whose entertainment it was princi- pally written. In both these poems, it has been said there is a stiffness of versification ; but they met with such success as to procure their author the friendship of several of the Hobility, and among the rest the patronage of the Duke of Wharton, which greatly helped him in his finances. By the recommendation of his Grace he offered himself a candidate to represent the borough of Cirencester, but did not succeed. The Duke honoured him with his company to All Souls, and through his in- stance and persuasion was at the expence of erecting a great part of the new buildings then carrying on in that college. The turn of his mind leading him to divinity, he quitted the law, which he had never practised, and having taken orders, in April 1728 was appointed chaplain in ordinary to George the Second. His Vindication of Providence, and his Es- timate of Human Life, were published in this year ; they have gone through several editions, and are generally regarded as the best of his prose compositions. In 1730, he was presented LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. by his college to the rectory of Welwyn in Hertfordshire, worth about 300!. a year, be- sides the lordship of the manor annexed to it. He was married in 1731, to lady Betty Lee, widow of colonel Lee, and daughter to the earl of Litchfield (a lady of an eminent genius, and great poetical talents); and it was not long before she brought him a son and heir. Some time before his marriage, the Doctor walking in his garden at Welwyn, with this lady and another, a servant came to tell him a gentleman wished to speak to him. " Tell him/' says the Doctor, " I am too happily engaged to change my situation." The ladies insisted that he should go, as his visitor was a man of rank, his patron, and his friend ; and as persuasion had no effect on him, they took him one by the right hand, and the other by the left, and led him to the garden gate. He laid his hand upon his heart, and in that expressive manner for which he was so remarkable, spoke the following lines : Thus Adam look'd when from the garden driv'n, And thus disputed orders sent from Heav'n : Like him I go, but yet to go am loth ; Like him I go, for angels drove us both. Hard was his fate, but mine still more unkind ; His Eve went with him, but mine stays behind. Notwithstanding he was in high esteem with many of the first rank, he never rose to great pre- VI LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. ferment. He was a favourite of the late prince of Wales, his present majesty's father, and for some years before his death was a pretty constant attendant at court; but upon the prince's decease all his hopes of farther rising in the church were at an end ; and towards the latter part of his life his very desire of it seemed to be laid aside; for in his Night Thoughts he observes that there was one (meaning himself) " In Britain born, with courtiers bred, Who thought ev'n wealth might come a day too late :" However, upon the death of Dr. Hales, in 1761, he was made clerk of the closet to the prin- cess dowager of Wales. About the year 1741 he had the unhappi- ness to lose his wife, and both her children, which she had by her first husband; a son and daughter, very promising characters. They all died within a short time of each other. What affliction he felt for their loss, as well as for that of his lady, may easily be perceived by his fine poem of the Night Thoughts, occa- sioned by it. This was a species of poetry peculiarly his own, and has been unrivalled by all who have attempted to copy him. His ap- plause here was deservedly great. The un- happy bard " whose griefs in melting num- bers flow, and melancholy joys diffuse around," LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. Vll has been often sung by the profane as well as pious. They were written, as before observed, under the recent pressure of his sorrow for the loss of his wife, and his daughter and son-in- law ; they are addressed to Lorenzo, a man of pleasure, and the world ; and who, it is ge- nerally supposed (and very probably), was his own son, then labouring under his father's displeasure. His son-in-law is said to be characterized by Philander, and his daughter was certainly the person he speaks of under the appellation of Narcissa. See Night iii. line 62. In her last illness he accompanied her to Montpelier in the south of France, at which place she died soon after her arrival *. Being regarded as a heretic, she was denied Christian burial. This act of inhumanity is justly resented in the same beautiful poem ; see Night iii. line 165 ; in which his wife also is frequently mentioned ; and he thus laments the loss of all three in an apostrophe to Death: " Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was flain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moou had fill'd her horn." His Conjectures an Original Composition were written when he was turned of eighty : If * She died of a consumption, occasioned by her grief for the death of her mother. VllI LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. it has blemishes mingled with its beauties, it is not to be wondered at, when we consider his great age and the infirmities which generally attend such an advanced period of life. However, the many excellent remarks with which this work abounds, have procured it no small degree of celebrity. The Resignation, a poem, the last and the least esteemed of all our Au- thor's works, was published a short time be- fore his death, and only served to manifest, that the taper of genius, which had so long shone with peculiar brightness in him, was now glim- mering in the socket. He died in his parson- age-house, at Welwyn, April 12th, 1765, and was buried, according to his own desire (at- tended by all the poor of the parish), under the altar-piece of that church, by the side of his wife*. This altar-piece is adorned with an elegant piece of needle-work by the lady Betty Young, and is deemed one of the most cu- rious in the kingdom. Some time before his death he ordered all his manuscripts to be burnt. Those that knew how much he expressed in small compass, and that he never wrote on trivial subjects, will lament both the excess of his modesty, and the irre- parable loss to posterity ; especially when it * The bell did not toll at his funeral, nor was any person al- lowed to be in mourning. LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. IX is considered, that he was the intimate ac- quaintance of Addison, and was himself one of the writers of the Spectators. During his lifetime he published two or three sermons, one of which was preached before the House of Commons. -He left an only son and heir, Mr. Frederick Young, who had the first part of his education at Winchester school, * and becoming a scholar upon the foundation, was sent, in consequence thereof, to New Col- lege in Oxford; but there being no vacancy (though the society waited for one no less than two years), he was admitted in the mean time in Baliol, where he behaved so imprudently as to be forbidden the college. This misconduct disobliged his father so much, that he never would suffer him to come into his i sight afterwards : However, by his will he be- queathed to him, after a few legacies, his whole fortune, which was considerable. Dr. Young, as a Christian and divine, might be said to be an example of primeval piety; he gave a remarkable instance of this one Sunday when preaching in his turn at St. James's; for though he strove to gain the attention of his audience, when he found he could not prevail, his pity for their folly got the better of all decorum ; he sat back in the pulpit, and burst into a flood of tears. b LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. His turn of mind was naturally solemn; and he usually, when at home in the country, spent many hours in a day, walking among the tombs in his own church-yard. His con- versation, as well as writings, had all a reference to a future life ; and this turn of mind mixed itself even with his improvements in gardening : He had, for instance, an alcove with a bench so well painted in it, that at a distance it seemed to be real, but upon a nearer approach the de- ception was perceived, and this motto ap- peared : INVISIBILIA NON DECIPIUNT. The things unseen do not deceive us. Yet notwithstanding this gloominess of tem- per, he was fond of innocent sports and amuse- ments : He instituted an assembly and a bowl- ing-green in his parish, and often promoted the mirth of the company in person. His wit was ever poignant*, and always levelled at those who shewed any contempt for decency and religion. His epigram spoken extempore upon Voltaire is well known : Voltaire happen- ing to ridicule Milton's allegorical personages * In his last illness, a friend of the Doctor's calling to know how he did, and mentioning the death of a person, who had been in a decline a long time, said he was quite worn to a shell, by the time he died ; Very likely, replied the Doctor, but what is become of the kernel ? LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. XI of Death and Sin, Dr. Young thus addressed him; Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, Thou seem'st a Milton with his Death and Sin. As to his character as a poet, his composition was instinct in his youth, with as much va- nity as was necessary to excel in that art. He published a collection of such of his works as he thought the best, in 1761, in four volumes duodecimo, and another has been published since. Among these, his Satires, intitled the Love of Fame, or the Universal Passion, are by most considered as his principal performance. They are finely characteristic of that excessive pride or rather folly of following prevailing fashions, and aiming to be more than we really are, or can possibly be. They were written in early life; and if smoothness of style, brilliancy of wit, and simplicity of subject, can ensure ap- plause, our author may demand it on this oc- casion. Dean Swift has observed, that if Dr. Young, in his Satires, had been more merry or se- vere, they would have been more generally pleasing ; because mankind are more apt to be pleased with ill-nature and mirth than with solid sense and instruction. It is also observed of his Night Thoughts, that though they are chiefly flights of thinking almost super-human s b 2 Xli LIFE OF DR. YOUNG. such as the description of Death, from his secret stand, noting down the follies of a bacchana- .lian society, the epitaph upon the departed world, and the issuing of Satan from his dun- geon ; yet these, and a great number of other remarkably fine thoughts, are sometimes over- cast with an air of gloominess and melancholy : Yet it must be acknowledged that they evi- dence a singular genius, a lively fancy, an extensive knowledge of men and things, espe- cially of the feelings of the hitman heart ; and paint in the strongest colours the vanity of life, with all its fading honours and emoluments, the benefits of true piety, especially in the views of death ; and contain the most unanswerable ar- guments in support of the soul's immortality and a future state. THE CONTENTS. NIGHT i. On Life, Death, and Immortality - Page i . 2. On Time, Death, and Friendship 19 3. Narcissa - - 43 4. The Christian Triumph - - 61 5. The Relapse - - - 89 6. The Infidel Reclaimed, Parti. - - 125 7. Ditto, Part II. - " I 55 8. Virtue's Apology - 207 9. The Consolation - - - -253 NOTES - - - - "33^ IXDEX .... '- . PREFACE. As the occasion of this Poem was real *, not fictitious ; so the method pursued in it was ra- ther imposed, by what spontaneously arose in the Author's mind, on that occasion, than me- ditated, 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 narration 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. * Occasioned by the death of Lady Betty Young, and her son and daughter. See the Doctor's Life, page vi. THE COMPLAINT. THE COMPLAINT. Night the First. 1 IR'D Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep 1 He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes : Swift on his downy pinions flies from woe, And lights on lids unsully'd with a tear. 5 From short (as usual) and disturbed 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, From wave two ave of fancy'd misery, n At random drove, her helm of reason lost : B 2 THE COMPLAINT, Though now restor'd, 'tis only change of pain j (A bitter change !) severer for severe. The day too short for my distress ; and Night, 15 Ev'n in the zenith of her dark domain, Is sunshine, to the colour of my fate. Night, sable goddess i from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb'ring world. 20 Silence, how dead ! and darkness, how profound ! Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds ; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the gen'ral pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause; An awful pause ! prophetic of her end. 25 And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd : Fate ! drop the curtain ; I can lose no more. Silence and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twjns From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought To Reason, and on Reason build Resolve 30 (That column of true majefty 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 ? 35 THOU, who didst put to flight Primaeval Silence, when the morning stars, Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball ; O 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, J*l ** _--.__ \ . ^ On Life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God, What golden joys ambrosial clust'ring glow In His full beam, and ripen for the just ! Where momentary ages are no more ! Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death ex- pire ! 145 And is it in the flight of threescore years, 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, 15 Thrown into tumult, raptur'd, 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 ! O how self-fetter'd was my grov'ling soul ! How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun ! Till darkened Reason lay quite clouded o'er 1 60 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 noontide trances hung With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys, 170 Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 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's now my frenzy's pompous furniture? 175 The cobwebb'd cottage, with its ragged wall Of mould'ring 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 e'very breeze. 1 80 O 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 lodg'd above these rolling spheres ; The baleful influence of whose giddy dance Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. Here teems with revolutions ev'ry hour j 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 Strikes empires from the root; each moment plays 195 His little weapon in the narrower fphere 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 Heav'n ! I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air j O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace ! c 10 THE COMPLAINT. 7~T~ ~- "T ' cT'-- 1 ... '"--' -- ->- - - ' ....... " ",~ ' ~, ' "."" ..-..'. . VJ What darts of agony had miss'd my heart ! Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine 205 To tread cut empire, and to quench the stars. The sun himself by thy. permission shines ; And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere. Amidst such mighty plunder, why exhaust Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean ? 210 Why thy peculiar rancour wreak' d on me ? Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yori moon had fill'd her horn. Cynthia! why so pale? 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 ev'ry vary'd posture, place, and hour, How widow'd, ev'ry thought of ev'ry joy ! Thought, busy thought! too busy for my peace; Through the dark postern of time long elaps'd, 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 ; In quest of wretchedness perversely strays ; And finds all desert now; and meets the ghosts Of my departed joys., a numerous train ! 230 1 riie the riches of my former fate ; Sweet comfort's blasted clusters I lament ; I tremble at the blessings once so dear ; And ev'ry pleasure pains me to the heart. Yet why complain ? or why- complain for one? 235 LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 11 Hangs out the sun his lustre but Tor me, The single man ? Are angels all beside ? 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, Volcana, Storm, and Fire, Intestine Broils, Oppression, with her heart Wrapt up in triple brass, besiege mankind. GOD'S image, disinherited of day, 245 Here, plung'd 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 sav'd, If so the tyrant, or his minions, 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, 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. c 2, 12 THE COMPLAINT. 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 5 Our very wishes give us not our wish. 275 How distant oft the thing we doat on most, From that for which we doat, 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 his haughty lord's delights To Woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles toss, Loud sorrows howl, invenom'd passions bite, Rav'nous calamities our vitals seize, And threat'ning 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, laft lesson to mankind; LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 1 The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels. 300 More gen'rous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts ; And conscious virtue mitigates the pang. Nor Virtue, more than Prudence, bids me give Swoln thought a second channel ; who divide, They weaken too, the torrent of their grief. 305 Take then, O 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 ! Wouldst thou I should congratulate thy fate? 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 thou art blest ; By dotage dandled to perpetual smiles. 315 Know, smiler ! at thy peril art thou pleas'd j 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 syren 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. Is Heav'n tremendous in its frowns ? most sure ; And in its favours formidable too : Its favours here are trials, not rewards ; 330 A call to duty, not discharge from care ; THE COMPLAINT. 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 tumults, 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 invenom'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 dy'd with thee, PHILANDER! thy last sigh 345 Dissolved the charm ; the disenchanted earth Lost all her luftre. Where, her glitt'ring tow'rs ? Her golden mountains, where ? all darkened 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 !) O how ambition flush'd Thy glowing cheek ! ambition, truly great, Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within, 355 ("Sly, treach'rous miner !) working in the dark, Smil'd 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 ! Man's foresight is conditionally wise ; 360 LORENZO ! wisdom into folly turns Oft, the first instant ; its idea fair To lab'ring thought is born. How dim our eye ! LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 15 The present moment terminates our sight ; Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the next; We penetrate, we prophesy in vain. ^66 Time is dealt out by particles ; and each, Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life y By Fate's inviolable oath is sworn Deep silence, " Where eternity begins." 37 By Nature's law, what may be, may be now j 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 ? 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 our eternal schemes, 380 As we the fatal sisters would out-spin, And, big with life's futurities, expire. Not ev'n PHILANDER had bespoke his shroud, Nor had, he cause ; a warning was deny'd : 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; 'tis madness to defer; 390 Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 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 COMPLAINT. The vast concerns of an eternal scene. If not so frequent, would not this be strange ? That J 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 lodg'd in their o'wn hands is Folly's vails ; That lodg'd in Fate's, to Wisdom they consign ; The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone : 'Tis 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 ev'ry stage : When young, indeed, In full content we, sometimes, nobly rest, Un-anxious, for ourselves ; and only wifh, 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 j 420 In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves ; 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 Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the sudden dread j But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 17 Soon close j where past 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. Ev'n with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. Can I forget PHILANDER ? 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 : Ev'ry star Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay. Yet be not vain ; there are, who thine excel, And charm thro* distant ages : Wrapt in shade, 445 Pris'ner 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, Masonides ! 450 Or, Milton ! thee j ah ! could I reach your strain ! Or his, who made Masonides 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 ? 455 O had he press'd his theme, pursu'd the track, Which opens out of darkness into day ! O had he mounted on his wing of fire, Soar'd, where I sink, and sung immortal Man! How had it blest mankind, and rescu'd me ! 460 D NIGHT THE SECOND. ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. \VHEN the cock crew, he wept" Smote by that eye Which looks on me, on all : That POW'R, who bids This midnight centinel, with clarion mrill (Emblem of that which shall awake the dead), Rouse souls from slumber into thoughts of Heav'n. 5 Shall I too weep ? Where then is fortitude ? 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'll 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, D 2 THE COMPLAINT. Of dear PHIL ANDER'S dust. He, thus, though dead, 15 May still befriend. What themes? Time's wondrous price, Death, Friendship, and PHILANDER'S final scene. So could I touch these themes, as might obtain Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengag'd, 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? 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 (O glorious avarice !) thought of death inspires, As rumour'd robberies endear our gold ? O 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. 35 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, O 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. For what calls thy disease, LORENZO? Not 45 TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 21 For Esculapian, but for moral aid. Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon. Youth is not rich in time ; it may be, poor j Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay No moment but in purchase of its worth ; 50 And what its worth, ask death-beds j 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 Of Men and Angels ; virtue more divine. 55 Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain ? (These Heav'n 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! J Tis confest. 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 med'cines cannot cure ? When spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes Their lustre lose, and lessen in our sight, As lands and cities with their glitt'ring spires 70 To the poor shattered bark, by sudden storm Thrown ofi 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. Redeem we time ? Its loss we dearly buy. 75 What pleads LORENZO for his high-priz'd sports ? lie pleads time's num'rous blanks ; he loudly pleads THE COMPLAINT. The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. From whom those blanks and trifles, but from thee ? 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 : 85 This, the good heart's prerogative to raise A royal tribute from the poorest hours ; Immense revenue ! every moment pays. If nothing more than purpose in thy pow'r ; 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 : J T is not in things o'er thought to domineer ; Guard well thy thought j our thoughts are heard in Heav'n. 95 On all-important time, through ev'ry age, Though much, and warm, the wise have urg'd j the man Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour. " I've lost a day" the Prince who nobly cry'd, Had been an emperor without his crown ; 100 Of Rome ? Say, rather, lord of human race : He spoke, as if deputed by Mankind. So should all speak : So Reason speaks in all j From the soft whispers of that God in Man, Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly, 105 For rescue from the blessings we possess ? Time, the supreme ! Time is eternity j Pregnant with all eternity can give j TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 23 Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile. Who murders time, he crushes in the birth no A pow'r ethereal, only not ador'd. 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 ling'ring moments into speed, And whirl us (happy riddance I) from ourselves. Art, brainless Art! our furious charioteer 120 (For Nature's voice unstifled would recal), Drives headlong tow'rds the precipice of Death ; Death, most our dread; Death thus more dreadful made; O 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 24 THE COMPLAINT. Behold him, when past by ; what then is seen, But his broad pinions swifter than the winds ? And all Mankind, in contradiction strong, Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. Leave to thy foes these errors, and these ills ; i 45 To Nature just, their cause and cure explore. Not short Heav'n's bounty, boundless our expence ; No niggard, Nature ; Men are prodigals. We waste (not use) our time ; we breathe, not live. Time wasted is existence, us'd is life. 150 And bare existence, Man, to live ordain'd, Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight. And why ? since time was giv'n for use, not waste. Injoin'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 j That Man might feel his error, if unseen : And, feeling, fly to labour for his cure ; Not, blund'ring, split on idleness for ease. Life's cares are comforts, such by Heav'n design'd ; 1 60 He that has none, must make them, or be wretched. Cares are employments ; and without employ The soul is on the rack ; the rack of rest, To souls most adverse ; action all their joy. Here, 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 'tis decreed, Who thwart His will shall contradict their own. Hence our unnat'ral quarrel with ourselves ; 170 Our thoughts at enmity ; our bosom-broil ; We push Time from us, and we wish him back j s/4 /-' / 'j / / ' x / / ' _ ffffnottt /it ht , tf/tfti /nut f'y ; ti'/tf/f /ncn u .*n,i /(e'l/fsr Iffitn t/it nt/t(fa ' i' / \n_-i.* fc- ^A,,.irtI,J TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 5 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 loth to part. Oh 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 ev'ry day deceased ; 180 .And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns. Nor death, nor life, delight us. If time past, And time possest, both pain us, what can please ? That which the Deity to please ordain'd, Time us'd. The Man who consecrates his hours 185 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. Our error's cause and cure are seen : See next Time's nature, origin, importance, speed j 196 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; 'tis 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 (Heav'n's stranger!) sent On his important embassy to Man. LORENZO ! no : On the long-destin'd 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, THE COMPLAINT. 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 Heav'n, 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 5 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 j In his immutability to nest, When worlds, that count his circles now, unhing'd 220 (Fate the loud signal sounding") headlong rush To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. Why spur the speedy ? Why with levities New-wing thy short, short day's too rapid flight ? Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or what is done? 225 Man flies from Time, and Time from Man ; too soon In sad divorce this double flight must end ; And then, where are we? where, LORENZO! then Thy sports ? thy pomps ? I grant thee, in a state Not unambitious; in the ruffled shroud, 230 Thy Parian tomb's triumphant arch beneath. Has Death his fopperies ? 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 TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 27 As Solomon, more sump'tous 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, fram'd in foreign looms ! O ye LORENZOS of our age ! who deem 245 One moment unamus'd, a misery Not made for feeble Man ! who call aloud For ev'ry bauble, drivell'd o'er by sense, For rattles, and conceits of ev'ry cast, For change of f Jlies, and relays of joy, 250 To drag your patient through the tedious length Of a short winter's day say, sages say! Wit's oracles ; say, dreamers of gay dreams j How will you weather an eternal night, Where such expedients fail ? 255 O treach'rous Conscience ! while she seems to sleep On rose and myrtle, lull'd with syren song ; While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop On headlong Appetite the slacken'd rein, And give us up to License, unrecall'd, 260 Unmark'd; see, from behind her secret stand, The sly informer minutes ev'ry 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, List'ning, o'erhears the whispers of our camp : Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 2 28 THE COMPLAINT. 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 misapply'd j In leaves more durable than leaves of brass, 275 Writes our whole history ; which Death shall read In ev'ry 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 ? 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 ? If trifling kills, Sure vice must butcher. O 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, Heav'n 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 dispatch, And ardent energy, supinely yawns ? Man sleeps ; arid Man alone; and Man, whose fate, Fate irreversible, intire, extreme, Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulph 300 TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 29 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 Heav'n'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 reimport The period past, regive the given hour. LORENZO, more than miracles we want ; 310 LORENZO O for yesterdays to come ! Such is the language of the Man awake ; His ardour such, for what oppresses thee. And is his ardour vain, LORENZO ? No ; That more than miracle the Gods indulge ; 315 To-day is yesterday return'd ; return'd Full-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, And reinstate us on the rock of peace. Ltt it not share its predecessor's fate ; Nor, like its elder sisters, die a fool. 320 Shall it evaporate in fume ? fly off Fuliginous, and stain us deeper still ? Shall we be poorer for the plenty pour'd ? More wretched for the clemencies of Heav'n ? Where shall I find him? 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 flow'rs ? Your golden wings, now hov'ring o'er him, shed Protection; now, are waving in applause 330 To that blest son of foresight ! lord of Fate ! That awful indeoendent on to-morrow ! 3O THE COMPLAINT. Whose work is done ; who triumphs in the past j Whose yesterdays look backward 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 expir'd ; Renounc'd 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 j crawling in the dust ; 345 Dismounted ev'ry great and glorious aim ; Embruted ev'ry faculty divine ; Heart-bury'd in the rubbish of the world The world, that gulph 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 chang'd ; Though we from earth ; ethereal, they that fell. Such veneration due, O Man ! to Man. Who venerate themselves, the world despise. 355 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 TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 1 We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplor'd j Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot ! 365 Is Death at distance ? No : He has been on thee ; And giv'n sure earnest of his final blow. Those hours, which lately smil'd, where are they now? 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 theej 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 Heav'n ; 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 O reconcile them ! kind Experience cries, " There's nothing here, but what as nothing weighs ; The more our joy, the more we know it vain j 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 ! 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 32 THE COMPLAINT. Since then (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown) We, sore-amaz'd, 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 (O 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 ! loth to break thy banquet up : 410 " O Man, thy kingdom is departing from thee ; And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade." Its silent language such : Nor need'st thou call Thy Magi, to decypher what it means. Know, like the Medean, Fate is in thy walls : 415 Dost ask, How ? whence ? Belshazzar-like, amaz'd ! Man's make incloses 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 j 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 : TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 33 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 such our gravitation to the wrong, So prone our hearts to whisper what we wim, 'Tis later with the wise, than he's aware ; A Wilmington goes slower than the sun : 435 And all mankind mistake their time of day ; Ev'n 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 One disappointment sure, to crown the restf 44$ The disappointment of a promis'd hour. On 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 j THE COMPLAINT. Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane. 460 Know'st thou, LORENZO ! what a friend contains ? As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flow'rs, So men from Friendship, Wisdom and Delight ; Twins ty'd 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 deny'd ; Speech, thought's canal! Speech, thought's criterion too ! 470 Thought in the mine, may come forth gold or dross j When coin'd in words, we know its real worth. If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 'T will buy thee benefit j perhaps renown. Thought too, deliver'd, is the more possest ; 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, sheath'd in erudition, lie 480 Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes, And rusted ; who might have borne an edge, And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech ! If born blest heirs to half their mother's tongue ! J T is thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate push Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, 486 And defecates the student's standing pool. In Contemplation is his proud resource ? J T is poor, as proud, by converse unsustain'd. Rude thought runs wild in Contemplation's field j 490 TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 35 Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit Of due restraint ; and Emulation's spur Gives graceful energy, by rivals aw'd. 'Tis converse qualifies for solitude j 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 ? 500 That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool j A melancholy fool, without her bells. Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives The precious end, which makes our wisdom wise. Nature, in zeal for human amity, 50$ Denies, or damps, an undivided joy. Joy is an import ; joy is an exchange ; Joy flies monopolists : It calls for two ; Rich fruit ! Heav'n-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 j 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 Heav'n the bosom of a friend ; Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, 520 Each other's pillow to repose divine. v Beware the counterfeit ; In Passion's flame F 2 $6 THE COMPLAINT. Hearts melt ; but melt like ice, soon harder froze. True love strikes root in Reason j 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 fair 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 ! From Friendship, thus, that flow'r of heav'nly seed, The wise extract Earth's most Hyblean bliss, 536 Superior wisdom, crown'd with smiling joy. But for whom blossoms this Elysian flow'r ? 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 j Caught by the w.afture of a golden lure, 545 Or fascination of a high-born smile. Their smiles, the great, and the coquet, throw out For other hearts, tenacious of their own ; And we no less of ours, when such the bait. Ye Fortune's cofferers ! Ye pow'rs of wealth ! 550 You do your rent-rolls most felonious wrong, By taking our attachment to yourselves. Can gold gain friendship ? Impudence of hope ! As well mere Man an angel might beget. TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 37 Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 555 LORENZO ! pride repress ; nor hope to find A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 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) 560 I shew thee friendship delicate, as dear, Of tender violations apt to die ? Reserve will wound it ; and Distrust, destroy. Deliberate on all things with thy friend. But since friends grow not thick on ev'ry bough, 565 Nor ev'ry friend unrotten at the core ; First, on thy friend, delib'rate with thyself; Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix ; Judge before friendship, then confide till death. 570 Well, for thy friend ; but nobler far, for thee ; How gallant danger for Earth's highest prize ! A friend is worth all hazard we can run. " Poor is the friendless master of a world : A world in purchase for a friend is gain." 575 So sung he (angels hear that angel sing ! Angels from friendship gather half their joy), So sung PHILANDER, as his friend went round In the rich ichor, in the gen'rous blood Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, 580 A brow solute, and ever-laughing eye. He drank long health, and virtue to his friend ; 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. 585 O ! for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, g8 THE COMPLAINT. And elevating spirit, of a friend, For twenty summers rip'ning by my side ; All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; All social virtues rifmg in his soul ; 590 As "crystal clear ; and smiling, as they rise ! Here nectar flows ; it sparkles in our sight ; Rich to the taste, and genuine from the heart. High-flavour'd bliss for gods ! on earth how rare ! On earth how lost ! PHILANDER is no more. 595 Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song ? And I too warm ? Too warm I cannot be. I lov'd him much ; but now I love him more. Like birds, whose beauties languish, half conceal'd, Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes 600 Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold ; How blessings brighten as they take their flight ! His flight PHILANDER took; his upward flight, If ever soul ascended. Had he dropt, (That eagle genius !) O had he let fall 605 One feather as he flew ! I, then, had wrote, What friends might flatter ; prudent foes forbear j Rivals scarce damn ; and Zoilus reprieve. Yet what I can, I must : It were profane To quench a glory lighted at the skies, 610 And cast in shadows his illustrious close. Strange ! the theme most affecting, most sublime, Momentous most to Man, should sleep unsung ! And yet it sleeps, by genius unawak'd, Painim or Christian; to the blush of wit. 615 Man's highest triumph ! Man's profoundest fall ! The death-bed of the just ! is yet undrawn By mortal hand : It merits a divine : TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 39 Angels should paint it, angels ever there ; There, on a post of honour, and of joy. 620 Dare I presume, then ? But PHILANDER bids ; And glory tempts, and inclination calls Yet am I struck ; as struck the soul, beneam Aerial groves' impenetrable gloom ; Or, in some mighty ruin's solemn shade ; 625 Or, gazing by pale lamps on high-born dust, In vaults ; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings ! Or, at the midnight altar's hallow'd flame. It is religion to proceed : I pause And enter, aw'd, the temple of my theme. 630 Is it his death-bed ? No : It is his shrine : Behold him, there, just rising to a god. The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of Heav'n. 635 Fly, ye profane ! If not, draw near with awe. Receive the blessing, and adore the chance, That threw in this Bethesda your disease ; If unrestor'd by this, despair your cure. For, here, resistless demonstration dwells % 640 A death-bed 's a detector of the hearf. Here tir'd Dissimulation drops her mask, Through life's grimace, that mistress of the scene ! Here real, and apparent., are the same. You see the Man ; you see his hold qn Heav'n j 64^ If sound his virtue ; as PHILANDER'S, sound. Heav'n waits not the last moment ; owns her friends On this side death ; and points them out to men ; A lecture silent, but of sov'reign pow'r \ To vice, confusion j and to virtue, peace. 650 40 THE COMPLAINT. Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, Virtue alone has majesty in death ; And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. PHILANDER! he severely frown'd on thee. " No warning giv'n ! Unceremonious fate ! 655 A sudden rush from life's meridian joys ! A wrench from all we love ! from all we are ! A restless bed of pain ! A plunge opaque Beyond conjecture ! Feeble Nature's dread ! Strong Reason's shudder at the dark unknown ! 660 A sun extinguish'd ! a just op'ning grave ! And oh ! the last, last ; what ? (can words express ? Thought reach ?) the last, last silence of a friend !'* "Where are those horrors, that amazement where, This hideous group of ills (which singly shock) 665 Demands from Man ? I thought him Man till now. Through Nature's wreck, thro' vanquish'd agonies (Like the stars struggling thro* this midnight gloom), What gleams of joy ! what more than human peace ! Where, the frail mortal ? the poor abject worm ? 670 No, not in death, the mortal to be found. His conduct is a legacy for all, Richer than Mammon's for his single heir. His comforters he comforts ; great in ruin, With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields 675 His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. ;. How our hearts burnt within us at the scene ! Whence, this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to Man ? His God sustains him in his final hour ! His final hour brings glory to his God! 680 Man's glory Heav'n vouchsafes to call her own. We gaze j we weep j mixt tears of grief and joy ! TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 41 Amazement strikes ! Devotion bursts to flame ! Christians adore, and infidels believe. As some tall tow'r, or lofty mountain's brow, 685 Detains the sun, illustrious from its height ; While rising vapours and descending shades, With damps, and darkness, drown the spacious vale ; Undamp'd by doubt, undarken'd by despair, PHILANDER thus augustly rears his head, 690 At that black hour, which gen'ral horror sheds On the low level of th* inglorious throng : Sweet Peace, and heav'nly Hope, and humble Joy, Divinely beam on his exalted soul j Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies, 695 With incommunicable lustre bright. NIGHT THE THIRD. N A R C I S S A. Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes. VIRG. r ROM dreams, where thought in fancy's maze runs mad, To Reason, that heav'n-lighted lamp in Man, Once more I wake ; and at the destin'd hour, Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, I keep my assignation with my woe. 5 O ! 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 ! unacknowledg'd, unapprov'd ! o 2 44 THE COMPLAINT. Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy breast; To win thy wish, creation has no more. 16 Or, if we wish a fourth, it is a friend But friends, how mortal ! dang'rous the desire. Take Phoebus to yourselves, ye basking bards ! Inebriate at fair Fortune's fountain-head ; 20 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-ey'd sister pay my court, (Endymion's rival !) and her aid implore ; Now first implor'd in succour to the Muse. Thou, who didst lately borrow Cynthia's form, And modestly forego thine own ! O thou 36 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 35 This revolution in the world inspir'd ? 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 43 The mazy dance, and hears their matchless strain ; A strain for gods, deny'd to mortal ear. Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of heav'n ! What title, or what name, endears thee most ? Cynthia ! Cyllene ! Phoebe !or dost hear 45 With higher gust, fair P D of the skies ? NARCISSA. 45 Is that the soft enchantment calls thee down, More pow'rful than of old Circean charm ? Come ; but from heav'nly banquets with thee bring The soul of song, and whisper in mine ear 5$ 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; 55 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 clos'd. 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. Oh PHILANDER ! What was thy fate ? A double fate to me ; Portent, and pain ! a menace, and a blow ! Like the black raven hov'ring o'er my peace, Not less a bird of omen, than of prey. 75 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; 4,6 THE COMPLAINT. 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, Transfix'd by Fate (who loves a lofty mark), How from the summit of the grove she fell, And left it unharmonious ! all its charm Extinguished in the wonders of her song ! 90 Her song still vibrates in my ravish'd ear, Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain (O to forget her !) thrilling through my heart ! Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy ! this group Of bright ideas, flow'rs of Paradise, 95 As yet unforfeit, in one blaze we bind, Kneel, and present it to the skies ; as all We guess of Heav'n : And these were all her own. And she was mine ; and I was was most blest Gay title of the deepest misery ! i oo As bodies grow more pond'rous 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 ? Scorn the proud man that is asham'd to weep : Our tears indulged indeed deserve our shame. Ye that e'er lost an angel ! pity me. no 7 X ' / y y / X /' i'rri/ ft/ (tea/ft //i<* ifat/feouj rttoi (at/ . , ' , ' S^n^L.M,i. / ff r<'<-/f r 4 ( '/>//ty S/ff////f , ///ft/ X / / // '. NARCISSA. 55 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 straitens Nature's circle to a line. 370 Believ'st thou this, LORENZO ? Lend an ear, A patient ear, thou'lt blush to disbelieve. A languid, leaden iteration reigns, And ever must, o'er those, whose joys are joys Of sight, smell, taste: The cuckow-seasons sing 375 The same dull note to such as nothing prize, . But what those seasons from the teeming earth, To doating 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 possest, 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 heav'nly 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 Rolling beneath their elevated aims, Makes their fair prospect fairer ev'ry hour ; Advancing virtue, in a line to bliss j Virtue, which Christain motives best inspire ! And bliss, which Christian schemes alone ensure ! 395 And shall we then, for Virtue's sake, commence Apostates ? and turn infidels for joy ? *)6 THE COMPLAINT. A truth it is, few doubt, but fewer trust, " He sins against this life, who slights the next." What is this life ? How few their fav'rite know ! 400 Fond in the dark, and blind in our embrace, By passionately loving life, we make Lov'd 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 'tis our all, J t is nothing : Worse than nought 5 A nest of pains : When held as nothing) much : Like some fair hum'rists, life is most enjoy'd 410 When courted least ; most worth, when disesteem'd j Then 'tis the seat of comfort, rich in peace j 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? Have I not made my triple promise good ? Vain is the world ; but only to the vain. 420 To what compare we then this varying sene, Whose worth ambiguous rises, and declines ? Waxes, and wanes ? (In all propitious, Night Assists me here i) Compare it to the moon j Bark in herself, and indigent ; but rich 425 In borrow' d lustre from a higher sphere* When gross guilt interposes, lab'ring earth, O'ershadow'd, mourns a deep eclipse of joy 5 Her joys, at brightest^ pallid, to that font NARCISSA. 57 Of full effulgent glory, whence they flow. 430 Nor is that glory distant : Oh LORENZO ! A good man, and an angel ! these between How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate ? 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 ? To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise ; And may itself procure what it presumes. Life is much flatter'd, Death is much traduc'd : 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, styFd organs, dim Life peeps at light ; Death bursts th' involving cloud, and all is dayj 451 All eye, all ear, the disembody'd pow'r. Death has feign'd evils, Nature shall not feel ; Life, ills substantial, Wisdom cannot shun. Is not the mighty Mind, that son of heav'n, 455 By tyrant Life dethron'd, imprison'd, pain'd? By Death enlarg'd, ennobled, deify'd ? JDeath but intombs the body ; life, the soul. " Is Death then guiltless ? How he marks his way With dreadful waste of what deserves to shine ! 460 Art, genius, fortune, elevated pow'r ! I 58 THE COMPLAINT. 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. Life is the triumph of our mould'ring clay ; Death, of the spirit infinite, divine ! Death has no dread, but what frail Life imparts j 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 ev'ry 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 bemir'd ! 480 LORENZO ! blush at terror for a death, Which gives thee to repose in festive bow'rs, 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 ? O 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 Reason and Religion, tetter taught, n/s/rw /n& 't-^rtn/v&&/?/, L __ /}///(/// /(/ //s.i ( '/it/ // or dream I hear, their distant strain, Sweet to the soul, and tasting strong of Heav'n, Soft-wafted on celestial Pity's plume, Through the vast spaces of the universe, To cheer me in this melancholy gloom ? 655 Oh when will Death (now stingless), like a friend, Admit me of their choir ? Oh when will Death This mould'ring, old> partition- wall throw down ! Give beings, one in nature, one abode ? Oh 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 blest, this little isle of life, This dark, incarcerating colony, 665 Divides us. Happy day ! that breaks our chain j That manumits ; that calls from exile home ; That leads to Nature's great metropolis, And re-admits 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 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 83 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 Heav'n through all duration, and supports In one illustriousand amazing plan, 685 Thy welfare, Nature ! and thy God's renown ; That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul Diseas'd, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death, Turns earth to Heav'n, to heav'nly thrones transforms The ghastly ruins of the mould'ring tomb ! 690 Dost ask me when ? When HE who dy'd returns ; Returns, how chang'd ! Where then the man of woe ? 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 Heav'n ; 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 naming flight ? Th' 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, M 2 THE COMPLAINT. Of more than solar glory j doubles wide 711 Heav'n's mighty cape, and then revisits earth, From the long travel of a thousand years. Thus, at the destinM 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 ; ev'n adders hear, But turn, and dart into the dark again. 720 Faith builds a bridge across the gulph 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 ev'ry clam'rous 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 stampt 735 On passive Nature, before thought was born ? My birth's blind bigot ! fir'd with local zeal ! No ; Reason rebaptiz'd 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, * 6 Qn argument alo.ne my faith is built ;" THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. Reason pursu'd is Faith ; and, unpursu'd Where proof invites, 't is Reason, then, no more : And such our proof, that, or our faith is right, 745 Or reason lies, and Heav'n design'd it wrong : Absolve we this ? What, then, is blasphemy ? 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 flow'r : The fading flow'r shall die ; but Reason lives Immortal as her Father in the skies. When Faith is virtue, Reason makes it so. Wrong not the Christian ; think not Reason yours ; *T is Reason our great Master holds so dear ; 756 *T is Reason's injur'd rights his wrath resents ; 'T is Reason's voice obey'd, his glories crown ; To give lost Reason life, he pour'd his own j Believe, and shew 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 Pseans, due To those, who push our antidote aside ; Those boasted friends to Reason, and to Man, Whose fatal love stabs ev'ry joy, and leaves Death's terror heighten'd gnawing on his heart. 770. These pompous sons of Reason idoliz'd And vilify'd at once ; of Reason dead Then deify'd, as monarch? were of old i 86 THE COMPLAINT. What conduct plants proud laurels on their brow ? While love of truth thro' 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 j" and, Indian-like, adore. 780 Talk they of morals ? O 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) j 785 As wise as Socrates, might justly stand The definition of a modern fool. 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 ? Ye sold to sense ! ye citizens of earth ! (For such alone the Christian banner fly 3) 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 cali'd another ; that arrives, Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on j 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 j A freedom far less welcome than his chain." THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 87 But grant Man happy ; grant him happy long j 805 Add to life's highest prize her latest hour j 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 gulph of time j 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 advanc'd 815 By strides as swift : Eternity is all ; And whose eternity ? Who triumphs there ? Bathing for ever in the font of bliss ! For ever basking in the Deity ! LORENZO! who? Thy conscience shall reply. 820 O give it leave to speak ; 't will speak ere long, Thy leave unask'd : LORENZO ! 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 heav'n-commission'd hour no sooner calls, But from her cavern in the soul's abyss, Like him they fable under ^Etna whelm'd, The goddess bursts in thunder, and in flame \ 835 THE COMPLAINT, Loudly convinces, and severely pains. Dark Daemons 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 THE FIFTH. THE RELAPSE. JLORENZO ! to recriminate is just. Fondness of fame is avarice of air. I grant the man is vain who writes for praise. Praise no man e'er deserv'd, who sought no more. As just thy second charge. I grant the muse 5 Has often blush'd at her degenerate sons, Retain'd by Sense to plead her filthy cause ; To raise the low, to magnify the mean, And subtilize the gross into refin'd : As if to magic numbers' pow'rful charm 10 'T was giv'n, 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,. N THE COMPLAINT. 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 difPrent ways, and clash in their commands. Pride, like an eagle, builds among the stars ; But Pleasure, lark-like, nests upon the ground. 20 Joys shar'd by brute-creation, Pride resents ; Pleasure embraces : Man would both enjoy, And both at once : A point how hard to gain ! 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 j In subtle Sophistry's laborious forge, Wit hammers out a reason new, that stoops To sordid scenes, and meets them with applause. Wit calls the Graces the chaste zone to loose j 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 of Man 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, Prom rank, refin'd to delicate and gay. Art, cursed Art ! wipes off th' indebted blush From Nature's cheek, and bronzes ev'ry shame. Man smiles in ruin, glories in his guilt, 45 And Infamy stands candidate for praise. THE RELAPSE. <)1 All writ by Man in favour of the soul, These sensual ethics far, in bulk, transcend. The fiow'rs of eloquence, profusely pour'd O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter'd world. 50 Can pow'rs of genius exorcise their page, And consecrate enormities with song ? 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, 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 syrens only ? Do not angels sing ? 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 disgrac'd, No fairy field of fiction, all on flow'r, 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 j 75 Thoughts, such as shall revisit your last hour j Visit uncall'd, and live when life-expires ; And thy dark pencil, Midnight] darker still N 2 THE COMPLAINT. In melancholy dipt, embrowns the whole. Yet this, ev'n this, my laughter-loving friends ! 86 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 recompense ; is more than praise. But chiefly thine, O LITCHFIELD ! nor mistake j Think not un-introduc'd I force my way ; NARCISSA, not unknown, not unally'd, 93 By virtue, or by blood, illustrious youth ! To thee, from blooming amaranthine bow'rs, Where all the language Harmony, descends Uncall'-d, and asks admittance for the muse : A muse that will not pain thee with thy praise ; 9 Thy praise she drops, by nobler still inspir'd. O THOU ! blest Spirit ! whether the Supreme, Great antenvundane FATHER ! in whose breast Embryo creation, unborn being, dwelt, And all its various revolutions roll'd ioo Present, though future ; prior to themselves ; Whose breath can blow it into nought again ; Or, from his throne, some delegated pow'r, 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 fam'd Castalia : Nor is yet allay'd IVIy sacred thirst j though long my soul has rang'd no THE RELAPSE* Through pleasing paths of moral and divine* By Thee sustained, and lighted by the stars. By them best lighted arc the paths of thought ; Nights are their days, their most illumin'd hours. By day, the soul, o'erborne by life's career, 115 Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng. By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts Impos'd, precarious, broken, ere mature. By night from objects free, from passion cool, 120 Thoughts uncontrolled, and unimpress'd, the births Of pure electron, arbitrary range, Not to the limits of one world cotifin'd J But from ethereal travels light on earth, As voyagers drop anchor for repose. 1 2 < Let Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore : Darkness has more divinity for me J It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the soul To settle on herself, our point supreme! 130 There lies bur 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 J T wixt Man and vanity ; 't is Reason's reign> And Virtue's too ; these tutelary shades 13$ Are Man's asylum from the tainted throng. Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too j It no less rescues virtue, than inspires. Virtue, for ever frail, as fair, below, Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, 149 Nor touches on the world, without a stain : The world 's infectious ; few bring back at eve, THE COMPLAINT. Immaculate, the manners of the morn. Something we thought, is blotted ; we resolv'd, Is shaken ; we renounc'd, returns again. 145 Each salutation may slide in a sin Unthought before, or fix a former flaw. Nor is it strange : Light, motion, concourse, noise, All scatter us abroad j 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. Present 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 j And Inhumanity is caught from Man, From smiling Man. A slight, a single glance, 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 j 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 j this wounds our peace. From Nature's birth, hence, Wisdom has been smit With sweet recess, and languished for the shade. 1 70 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, x x /w -me & t-'or atittii f/it/e r mark the much irrevocably laps'd, 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 ; Arnus'd, unconscious of the gliding wave ; Till on a sudden we perceive a shock ; We start, awake, lookout; what see we there ? 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 Dalilah the fair ? 420 Or is it Fear turns startled Reason back, From looking down a precipice so steep ? *T is dreadful ; and the dread is wisely plac'd, 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 unaw'd, in Life's most smiling hour, The good man would repine ; would suffer joys, And burn impatient for his prormVd skies. The bad, on eaqh punctilious pique of pride, 430 THE RELAPSE; Or gloom of humour, would give rage the reign, Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark, And mar the scenes 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. O Britain, infamous for suicide ! An island in thy manners ! far disjoined 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 monster's 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 absolv'd : 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, unmortgag'd for Earth's little bribes. Th' illustrious stranger, in this foreign land, Like strangers, jealous of her dignity, 460 Studious of home, and ardent to return, Of Earth suspicious, Earth's enchanted cup THE COMPLAINT. With cool reserve light touching, should indulge, On Immortality, her godlike taste ; There take large draughts ; make her chief banquet there. 465 But some reject this sustenance divine j To beggarly vile appetites descend ; Ask alms of Earth, for guests that came from Heav'n ; 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 loath the basket full j 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 ? 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 Heav'n's law supreme, and desperately rush Through sacred Nature's murder, on their own, Because they never think of Death, they. die. THE RELAPSE. IOJ *T is equally Man's duty, glory, gain, 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 ev'ry 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 ? As sent to Man In perfect vengeance ? No ; in pity sent, To melt him down like wax, and then impress, Indelible, Death's image on his heart ; Bleeding for others, trembling for himself. 5 1 d 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 razes what is writ In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore. 5 1 5 LORENZO ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh ? Or study'd the philosophy of tears ? (A science yet unlectur'd 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 fun'ral tears from different causes rise. As if from sep'rate cisterns in the soul, Of various kinds, they flow. From tender hearts, By soft contagion call'd, some burst at once, 525 p 106 THE COMPLAINT. And stream obsequious to the leading eye. Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd. Some hearts in secret hard, unapt to melt, Struck by the magic of the public eye, Like Moses* smitten rock, gush out amaia. 530 Some weep to share the fame of the deceas'd, 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 ; They weep not to relieve their grief, but shew. 536 Some weep in perfect justice to the dead, As conscious all their love is in arrear. Some mischievously weep, not unappriz'd, Tears, sometimes, aid the conquest of an eye, 540 With what address the soft Ephesians drew 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 her's not prouder Egypt's wanton queen, 545 Carousing gems, herself dissolv'd in love. Some weep at death, abstracted from the dead, And celebrate, like Charles, their own decease. By kind construction some are deem'd to weep, Because a decent veil conceals their joy. 550 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 Reason sleeps ; Or gazes, like an ideot, unconcern'd ; 555 Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm ; Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone. THE RELAPSE. 107 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 tam'd, They make a pastime of the stingless tale j 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 pumpt 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, Reclines on earth, and sorrows in the dust ; Instead of learning, there, her true support, Though there thrown down her true support to learn, Without HeavVs aid impatient to be blest, 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-fancy'd, at the ball, And raffles for the death's-head on the ring. So wept Aurelia, till the destin'd Youth Stept 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 doats ; And dy'd to give him, orphan'd in his birth ! Not such, NARCISSA, my distress for thee. p 2 108 - THE COMPLAINT. I '11 make an altar of thy sacred tomb, 590 To sacrifice to Wisdom. What wast thou ? " Young, gay, and fortunate !" Each yields a theme. 1 '11 dwell on each, to shun thought more severe; (Heav'n 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. And first, thy youth. What says it to grey hairs ? NARCISSA, I'm become thy pupil now Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 600 She sparkled, was exhal'd, and went to Heav'n. Time on this head has snow'd j 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 chastis'd surpassing in a fault, Father of all, forgetfulness of death : As if, like objects pressing on the sight, Death had advanc'd 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 j Deathless, from repetition of reprieve. Deathless ? far from it ! such are dead already ; Their hearts are bury'd, and the world 's their grave. Tell me, some god! my guardian angel! tell, 616 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 RELAPSE. 109 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 assualt ; 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. Tho' grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green; Like damag'd 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 ev'ry 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 ev'ry string ? 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 ev'n 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 ? Grand-climacterical absurdities ! 110 THE COMPLAINT. 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 ? 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 carcases to mend the soil. 665 Enough to live in tempest, die in port ; Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat Defects of judgment, and the will subdue j 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 j 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 PufPd o'ff by the first blast, and lost for ever. Dost ask, LORENZO, why so warmly prest, By repetition hammer'd on thine ear, The thought of Death ? That thought is the machine, The grand machine, that heaves us from the dust, 685 THE RELAPSE. Ill And rears us into men. That thought ply'd 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 ? 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 scissars cut My thread of life, to break this tougher thread Of moral death, that ties me to the world. 700 Sting thou my slumb'ring 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 ev'ry 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 j 112 THE COMPLAINT. 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 j 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 neighbours knell (Rude visitant !) knocks hard at your dull sense, And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear ! Be Death your theme in ev'ry place and hour j 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. 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 Unhedg'd, lies open in life's common field j 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 j And dive in science for distinguish'd names, Dishonest fomentation of your pride j Sinking in virtue, as you rise in fame. THE RELAPSE. 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 pow'r, And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; The feeble wrap th' athletic in his shroud ; 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 Methusalems may die ; O how misdated on their flatt'ring tombs ! NARCISSA'S youth has lectur'd me thus far. And can her gaiety give counsel too ? That, like the Jews' fam'd oracle of gems, 783 THE COMPLAINT. 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 ; Ev'n 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 giv'st 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, reduc'd By conquest, aggrandizes more his pow'r. But wherefore aggrandiz'd ? By Heav'n'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 j THE RELAPSE. 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 unconfest 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 Roman 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, onNARCissA's couch, he loiter'd long Unknown ; and, when detected, still was seen 835 To smile ; such peace has Innocence in death ! Most happy they, whom least his arts deceive. One eye on Death, and one full fix'd on Heav'n, Becomes a mortal and immortal Man. Long on his wiles a piqu'd and jealous spy, 840 I 've seen, or dreamt I saw, the tyrant dress ; JLay by his horrors, and put on his smiles. Il6 THE COMPLAINT. Say, muse, for thou remember 'st, call it back, And shew LORENZO 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 j Nature push'd him back ; Supported by a doctor of renown, His point he gain'd. Then artfully dismist The sage j 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 j 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 straiten'd to a cane j And hid his deadly shafts in Myra's eye. The dreadful masquerader, thus equipt, 860 Out-sallies on adventures. Ask you where ? 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. When, against Reason, Riot shuts the door, 866 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 Gaily carousing to his gay compeers, Inly he laughs, to see them laugh at him, As absent far : And when the revel burns, THE RELAPSE. 117 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 fullj they start, despair, expire. Scarce with more sudden terror and surprise, From his black masque 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 ? 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 fixt j Fixt as a centinel, all eye, all ear, All expectation of the coming foe. 893 Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear j 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, And ev'ry glitt'ring gewgaw, on her sight, llS THE COMPLAINT. To dazzle, and debauch it from its mark. 905 Death's dreadful advent is the mark of Man ; And ev'ry thought that misses it is blind. Fortune, with Youth and Gaiety, conspir'd 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. O 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 sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. "When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er 920 With recent honours, bloom'd with ev'ry 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, Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 925 How often have I seen him dropt at once, Our morning's envy, and our ev'ning's sigh ! As if her bounties were the signal giv'ri, The flow'ry wreath to mark the sacrifice, And call Death's arrows on the destin'd 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 LORENZO still for the sublime 935 THE RELAPSE. 1 19 Of Life ? to hang his airy nest on high, On the slight timber of the topmost bough, 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 ? Happiness deny'd ? LORENZO ! no : 'T is Happiness disdain'd. She comes too meanly drest to win our smile j 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 a-kin. Unknowing what our mortal state admits, Life's modest joys we ruin, while we raise ; 950 And all our extasies 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 955 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 glitt'ring ware, And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad 960 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 ador'd), to snatch the golden show'r. 965 Gold glitters most, where Virtue shines no more ; 12O THE COMPLAINT. As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. O 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, And, wide expanding their voracious jaws, Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, Untasted, through mad appetite for more ; Gorg'd to the throat, yet lean and rav'nous still. 975 Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game, And bold to seize the greatest. If (blest chance !) Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they lanch, they fly, O'er just, o'er sacred, all-forbidden ground, Drunk with the burning scent of place or pow'r, 980 Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die. Or, if for Men you take them, as I mark Their manners, thou their various fates survey. With aim mis-measur'd, 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 lodg'd 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 j but smiles most at those, THE RELAPSE, 121 (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, 1 005 And mourn in just proportion to their store. 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 ? And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin? 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, The sun's defiance, and the flocks defence; 1016 By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd, 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 alorte, Should I collect, my quiver would be full. A quiver, which, suspended in mid air, Or near Heav'n's Archer, in the zodiac, hung 1025 (So could it be), should draw the public eye, The gaze and contemplation of mankind I A constellation awful, yet benign, R 122 THE COMPLAINT. To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave, Nor suffer them to strike the common rock ; 1 030 " From greater danger to grow more secure, And, wrapt in happiness, forget their fate." Lysander, happy past the common lot, Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. He woo'd the fair Aspasia: She was kind ; IO 35 In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were blest : All who knew, envy'd j yet in envy lov'd : Can fancy form more finished happiness ? Fixt was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires Float in the wave, and break against the shore: 1041 So break those glitt'ring shadows, human joys. The faithless morning smil'd : He takes his leave, To re-embrace in extasies, 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 j 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 dy'd together j Happy in ruin ! undivorc'd by Death ! Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace NARCISSA ! pity bleeds at thought of thee. THE RELAPSE. 123 Yet thou wast only near me; not myself. 1060 Survive myself ? That cures all other woe. NARCISSA lives; PHILANDER is forgot. O the soft commerce ! O the tender ties, Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart ! Which, broken, break them ; and drain off the soul Of human joy; and make it pain to live 1066 And is it then to live ? When such friends part, 'T is the survivor dies My heart ! no more. R 2 PREFACE TO NIGHT THE SIXTH. FEW 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 dispute, the better. I think it may be reduced to this single question Is Man immortal ; or, Is he not ? 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 shewn) mere empty sounds, with- out 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 religious. And this great fun- damental truth, unestablished, or una wakened in .the minds of men, is, I conceive, the real source and support of all our infidelity; how remote soever the particular objections ad- vanced may seem to be from it. Senfible appearances affect most men much more than ab- stract 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 conceived by those that have not had an experience of it ; and of what num- bers 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 immor- tality are brought to light by the gospel : But by how many is the gospel rejected, or overlooked ! From these considerations, and from my being, accidentally, privy to the sentiments of some particular persons, I have been long persuaded, that 126 PREFACE TO NIGHT THE SIXTH. 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 deplo- rable error, by some doubt of their immortality, at the bottom. And I am satisfied, that men once thoroughly convinced of their immortality, are not far from being Christians- 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 the one and securing the other : And of such an earnest and impar- tial inquiry, I well know the consequence. Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental truth, some plain arguments are offered ; arguments derived from prin- ciples which infidels admit in common with believers ; argu- ments, 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 de- clined, they are submitted, with all deference, to better judg- ments in this, of all points, the most important. For, as to the being of a God, that is no longer disputed ; but it is un- disputed for this reason only ; riz. 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 pur modern combatants against other articles of our belief, NIGHT THE SIXTH. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. IN TWO PARTS. CONTAINING THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE OF IMMORTALITY. ' PART THE FIRST. oHE (for I know not yet her name in Heav'n) Not early, like NARCISSA, left the scene ; Nor sudden, like PHILANDER. What avail ? This seeming mitigation but inflames ; This fancy'd med'cine heightens the disease. 128 THE COMPLAINT, The longer known, the closer still she grew : And gradual parting is a gradual death. 'T is the grim tyrant's engine, which extorts By tardy pressure's still-increasing weight, From hardest hearts, confession of distress. 10 O the long, dark approach, through years of pain, Death's gall'ry! (might I dare to call it so,) With dismal Doubt, and sable Terror, hung ; Sick Hope's pale lamp, its only glimm'ring ray : There Fate my melancholy walk ordain'd, 15 Forbid self-love itself to flatter there. How oft I gaz'd, 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 increas'd my pain. 20 Like powerful armies trenching at a town, By slow, and silent, but resistless sap, In his pale progress gently gaining ground, Death urg'd 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, O Moon ! bear witness ; many a night He tore the pillow from beneath my head, Ty'd 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 ev'ry hour ! Less dread the day that drove me to the brink, And pointed out eternity below ; 35 When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; When, on a moment's point,, th' important die THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell, And turn'd up Life j my title to more woe. But why more woe ? More comfort let it be. 40 Nothing is dead, but that which wish'd to die j Nothing is dead, but Wretchedness and Pain j Nothing is dead, but what incumber'd, gall'd, Block'd up the pass, and barr'd from real life. Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise ? 45 Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars, Too low to reach it j 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 ? 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, Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike ; Fear shakes the pencil ; Fancy loves excess j Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades : And these the formidable picture draw. 60 But grant the worst ; J t is past j 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 unperceiv'd come on j And find the soul unsated with her theme, I 130 THE COMPLAINT. Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song. 70 O that my song could emulate my soul ! Like her, immortal. No ! the soul disdains A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames j If endless ages can outweigh an hour, Let not the laurel, but the palm, inspire. 75 Thy nature, Immortality ! who knows ? And yet who knows it not ? It is but life In stronger thread of brighter colour spun, And spun for ever ; dipt 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 int'rests, converse, amities, With all the sons of Reason, scatter'd wide Through habitable space, where-ever born, Howe'er endow'd ! to live free citizens Of universal Nature ; to lay hold By more than feeble Faith on the SUPREME ! To call Heav'n'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, THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 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 deplor'd) more fair ! What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! Blest absolution of our blackest hour ! LORENZO, these are thoughts that make Man, Man, The wise illumine, aggrandize the great. 1 1 1 How great (while yet we tread the kindred clod, And ev'ry 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, involv'd in high presage, Through the long visto of a thousand years, To stand contemplating our distant selves, As in a magnifying mirror seen, Enlarg'd 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 th' astonished talkers, and the tale! 125 LORENZO, swells thy bosom at the thought ? The swell becomes thee : 'T is an honest pride. Revere 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 j That almost universal error shun. How just our pride, when we behold those heights, B 2 132 THE COMPLAINT. Not those Ambition paints in air, but those Reason points out, and ardent Virtue gains ; 135 And angels emulate ; our pride how just ! When mount we ? when these shackles cast? when quit This cell of the creation ? this small nest, Stuck in a corner of the universe, Wrapt 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 Ab on this theme, which angels praise and share ? Man's fates and favours are a theme in Heav'n. What wretched repetition cloys us here ! What periodic potions for the sick ! Distempered bodies, and distemper 'd minds ! 155 In an eternity what scenes shall strike ! Adventures thicken ! novelties surprise ! What webs of wonder shall unravel there ! W T hat full day pour on all the paths of Heav'n, And light th' 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 j how rich, how full, our banquet there ! 165 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 133 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 lab'ring eye, Unbroken, then, illustrious, and entire, 170 Its ample sphere, its universal frame, In full dimensions, swells to the survey ; And enters, at once glance, the ravish'd sight. From some superior point (where, who can tell ? Suffice it, 'tis a point where gods reside) 175 How shall the stranger Man's illumin'd 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 unperceiv'd ! Stupendous these ! 185 Yet what are these stupendous to the whole ? As particles, as atoms ill-perceiv'd ; As circulating globules in our veins ; So vast the plan ! Fecundity divine ! Exub'rant Source ! perhaps I wrong thee still. 190 If admiration is a source of joy, What transport hence 1 Yet this the least in Heav'n. What this to that illustrious robe He wears, Who tost this mass of wonders from his hand, A specimen, an earnest, of his pow'r? 195 'Tis to that glory, whence all glory flows, As the mead's meanest flow'ret to the sun, 134 THE COMPLAINT. "Which gave it birth. But what this sun of Heav'n ? This bliss supreme of the supremely blest ? Death, only Death, the question can resolve. 200 By death, cheap-bought th' ideas of our joy; The bare ideas ! Solid happiness So distant from its shadow chas'd below. And chase we still the phantom through the fire, O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death ? 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 210 Of subtle thought, and exquisite design j (Fine net-work of the brain !) to catch a fly ? The momentary buz of vain renown ! A name ! a mortal immortality ! Or (meaner still !) instead of grasping air, 2 1 5 For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ? Drudge, sweat, through ev'ry shame, for ev'ry gain, For vile contaminating trash ; throw up Our hope in Heav'n, or dignity with Man ? And deify the dirt, matur'd to gold? 220 Ambition, Av'rice ; the two daemons these, Which goad through ev'ry slough our human herd, Hard-travel'd from the cradle to the grave. How low the wretches stoop ! how steep they climb ! These daemons burn mankind ; but most possess 225 LORENZO'S bosom, and turn out the skies. Is it in Time to hide Eternity ? And why not in an atom on the shore, To cover ocean ? or a mote, the sun ? THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 135 ju^j .: . . i r Glory and Wealth, have they this blinding pow'r ? What if to them [ prove LORENZO blind? 231 Would it surprise thee ? Be thou then surpris'd ; Thou neither knows't : 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 conquest 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. The visible and present are for brutes, 246 A slender portion, and a narrow bound ! These Reason, 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. 25$ 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 i 260? Dedalian engin'ry ! If these alone THfi COMPLAINT. 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 tow'ring 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 glitt'ring in the dust. 270 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 275 Illustrious, and give infamy renown. Great ill is an atchievement of great pow'rs. Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. Reason the means, Affections chuse 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. Right 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 ? J T is a proud mendicant j it boasts, 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 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 137 External homage, and a supple knee, 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 ? Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize ? 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 out-builds the pyramids ; Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall. Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? The cause is lodg'd in Immortality. 315 Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for pow'r ; What station charms thee ? Til instal thee there ; J T is thine. And art thou greater than before ? Then thou before wast something less than Man. Has thy new post betray J d thee into pride ? 320 That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity j 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 tow'ring to the skies. 325 T THE COMPLAINT. J T is born of Ignorance, which knows not Man : An angel's second ; nor his second, long. A Nero quilting his imperial throne, And courting glory from the tinkling string, But faintly shadows an immortal soul, 330 With empire's self, to pride, or rapture, fir'd. If nobler motives minister no cure, Ev'n Vanity forbids thee to be vain. High worth is elevated place : } T is more ; It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 335 Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man j Though no exchequer it commands, 't is wealth ; And though it wears no ribband, 't is renown ; Renown, 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 ; 34$ 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 Reduc'd 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 ore often stilted, and betray 355 A littleness o: : soul by worlds o'er-run, And nations h in blood. Dread sacrifice , <7 LM> / . / too- . THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 139 To Christian pride ! which had with horror shock' d The darkest Pagans, offer'd to their gods. O thou Most Christian enemy to peace ! 360 Again in arms ? again provoking fate ? That prince, and that alone, is truly great, Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheaths ; On empire builds what empire far 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 5 370 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 doat 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 : Ev'n 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 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, T 2 THE COMPLAINT. 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 j 395 Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook, We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud j At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. Ambition ! pow'rful source of good and ill ! Thy strength in Man, like length of wing in birds, When disengaged from earth, with greater ease, 401 And swifter flight, transports us to the skies : By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd, It turns a curse j it is our chain, and scourge, In this dark dungeon, where confm'd we lie, 405 Close-grated by the sordid bars of Sense ; All prospect of eternity shut out j And, but for execution, ne'er set free. With error in ambition justly charg'd, 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, * 6 Not in me," the di'mond. Gold is poor ; India 's insolvent : Seek 'it in thyself, 415 Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; In being so descended, form'd, endow'd ; Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race ! Erect, immortal, rational, divine ! In senses, which inherit earth, and heav'ns ; 420 Enjoy the various riches Nature yields j THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Far nobler ; give the riches they enjoy ; Give taste to fruits, 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, Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos still. 430 Objects are but th' occasion ; ours th' 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 Heav'n 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, fir'd to form a fairer scene Than Sense surveys ! In Mem'iy'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 sov'reign pow'r ! 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 refin'd, THE COMPLAINT. And in Truth's balance accurately weigh' d, Forms Art, and Science, Government, and Laws ; The solid basis, and the beauteous frame, 456 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, 460 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 ; And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear Th* Almighty Fiat, and the trumpet's sound j 465 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 th' AL.MIGHTY made, And wander wild through things impossible ! 471 What wealth, in faculties of endless growth, In quenchless passions violent to crave, In liberty to chuse, in pow'r to reach, And in duration (how thy riches rise !) 475 Duration to perpetuate boundless bliss ! Ask you, what pow'r resides in feeble Man That bliss to gain ? Is Virtue's, then, unknown ? Virtue, our present peace, our future prize, Man's unprecarious, natural estate, 480 Improveable at will, in Virtue lies j Its tenure sure ; its income is divine. High-built abundance, heap on heap ! for what ? To breed new wants, and beggar us the more j Then, make a, richer scramble for the throng* THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long Almost by miracle, is tir'd with play, Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown, Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly ; Fly diverse j fly to foreigners, to foes ; 490 New masters court, and call the former, fools (How justly !) for dependence on their stay. Wide scatter, first, our play-things ; then, our dust* Dost court Abundance for the sake of peace ? Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : 495 Riches enable to be richer still : And, richer still, what mortal can resist ? Thus wealth (a cruel task-master !) injoins New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train ! And murders Peace, which taught it first to shine. The poor are half as wretched as the rich j 50! 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 5 Sick, or incumber'd, is our happiness. A competence is all we can enjoy. O be content, where Heav'n can give no more ! 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 ev'ry prize, As bees in flow'rs ; and stings us with success. The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns j 144? THE COMPLAINT. Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie. Much learning shews 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 amaz'd, 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 j 53* 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 pow'r. The Man of Reason smiles at her, and Death. O what a patrimony this ! A being 535 Of such inherent strength and majesty, Not worlds possest can raise it ; worlds destroy'd Can't injure ; which holds on its glorious course, When thine, O Nature ! ends ; too blest 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 545 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 INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 145 The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares. 55 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 ? It thunders to the thought ; Reason amazes ; gratitude o'erwhelms ; No more we slumber on the brink of fate j Rous'd at the sound, th' 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 loit'ring thought beneath the stars. Has not LORENZO'S bosom caught the flame ? 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 Heav'n ! O vain, vain, vain, all else ! Eternity ! 570 A glorious, and a needful refuge, that, From vile imprisonment in abject views. J 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 j Eternity depending all atchieves ; 580 Sets Earth at distance ; casts her into shades j u THE COMPLAINT. Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her pow'rs : The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles, Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, 585 The Man beneath j if I may call him Man, Whom Immortality's full force inspires. Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought ; Suns shine unseen, arid thunders roll unheard, By minds quite conscious of their high descent, 590 Their present province, and their future prize ; Divinely darting upward ev'ry wish, Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost. Doubt you this truth ? Why labours your belief ? If Earth's whole orb, by some due-distant eye 595 Were seen at once, her tow'ring Alps would sink, And level'd Atlas leave an even sphere. Thus Earth, and all that earthly minds admire, Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round. 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 ? Then all are weak, But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height Some souls have soar'd ; or martyrs ne'er had bled. And all may do what has by Man been done. 606 Who, beaten by these sublunary storms, Boundless, interminable joys can weigh, Unraptur'd, unexalted, iminflam'd ? What slave unblest, who from to-morrow's dawn 6 id Expects an empire ? He forgets his chain, And, thron'd in thought, his absent sceptre waves. And what a sceptre waits us ! what a throne I THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 147 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 priz'd enough ! enough revolv'd ! 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 ? Are there, LORENZO? is it possible? Are there on earth (let me not call them men) Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts j Unconscious as the mountain of its ore j 630 Or rock, of its inestimable gem ? 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 ? who smother, in its birth, 635 The glorious truth ? who struggle to be brutes ? Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way ; And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink ? Who labour downwards through th* opposing pow'rs Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 640 To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock Of endless night ? night darker than the grave ! Who fight the proofs of immortality ? With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, Work all their engines, level their black fires, 645 u 2 THE COMPLAINT. 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 ? All things proclaim it needful ; some advance One precious step beyond, and prove it sure. A thousand arguments swarm round my pen, 655 From Heav'n, and Earth, and Man. Indulge a few, By Nature, as her common habit, worn j 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 ! Eternity's inhabitant august ! Of two eternities amazing Lord ! One past, ere Man's, or Angel's, had 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 supreme ; And he who most consults her, is most wise. LORENZO, to this heav'nly Delphos haste ; 675 And come back all-immortal j all-divine : Look Nature through, 't is revolution all ; THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 149 All change, no death. Day follows night; and night The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; Earth takes th* example. See the Summer gay, 680 With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flow'rs, 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 Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 686 Recals the first. All, to reflourish, fades. As in a wheel, all sinks to reascend. 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. Th* aspiring soul Ardent, and tremulous, like flame, ascends ; Zeal, and Humility, her wings to Heav'n. 695 The world of matter, with its various forms, 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. What hence infers LORENZO ? Can it be ? 701 Matter immortal ? And shall spirit die ? Above the nobler, shall less noble rise ? Shall Man alone, for whom all else revives, No resurrection know ? Shall Man alone, 705 Imperial Man, be sown in barren ground, Less privileg'd than grain, on which he feeds ? Is Man, in whom alone is pow'r to prize The bliss of being, or with previous paiu 150 THE COMPLAINT. 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 glimm'ring ray ; Reason shines out in Man. But how preserv'd 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 j 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 Check'd Reason halts ; her next step wants support ; Striving to climb, she tumbles from her scheme ; A scheme, analogy pronounc'd 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, Rather than violate his league with Death ? Renounce his reason, rather than renounce The dust belov'd, and run the risk of Heav'n ? 740 O what indignity to deathless souls ! THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. What treason to the majesty of Man ! Of Man immortal ! Hear the lofty style : " If so decreed, th' almighty will be done. Let earth dissolve, yon pond'rous orbs descend, 745 And grind us into dust : The soul is safe 5 The Man emerges ; mounts above the wreck> As tow'rihg flame from Nature's fun'ral pyre j O'er devastation, as a gainer, smiles > His charter, his inviolable rights, 75- /Ci&er jn/ our ct^i/ M // ^ / /~i^ i / ;/z<2x att>&) ./Tie/ 4xtft f I " J-J<)3 . THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar j Their good is good entire, unmix'd, unmarr'd ; 300- They find a paradise in ev'ry 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 Begins, and ends, their woe : They die but once j 306 Blest, 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. 3 1 o No day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot, But what beams on it from Eternity. O 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-inthrones us in supremacy Of joy, ev'n here : Admit immortal life, And Virtue is knight-errantry no more ; Each Virtue brings in hand a golden dow'r, 320 Far richer in reversion : Hope exults ; And though much bitter in our cup is thrown, Predominates, and gives the taste of Heav'n. O wherefore is the DEITY so kind ? Astonishing beyond astonishment! 325 Heav'n our reward for Heav'n enjoy'd below. Still unsubdu'd thy stubborn heart ? For there The traitor lurks, who doubts the truth I sing. Reason is guiltless ; Will alone rebels. What, in that stubborn heart, if I should find 330 z 17O THE COMPLAINT. 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 Heav'n ? Canst thou suspect what makes us disbelieve 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 : Heav'n 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 j 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 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, Had not our natures been eternal too. 361 Instinct points out an int'rest in hereafter j THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 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 th* ambitious, 't is ambition's cure. " And is this all ?" cry'd Caesar at his height, Disgusted. This third proof Ambition brings 370 Of immortality. The first in fame, Observe him near, your envy will abate: Sham'd 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 j By Nature planted for the noblest ends. 385 Absurd the fam'd advice to Pyrrhus giv'n, More prais'd, than ponder'd ; specious, but unsound : Sooner that hero's sword the world had quell'd, 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 ; z 2 172 THE COMPLAINT. 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 ? 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 Heav'n. Nor absolutely vain is human praise, When human is supported by divine. I'll 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, O 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 ; Our private reason is a flatterer j Thirst of applause calls public judgment in, 425 To poise our own, to keep an even scale, THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 173 And give endanger'd virtue fairer play. Here 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 pain, unpaid) must die ? Why freighted rich to dash against a rock ? Were Man to perish when most fit to live, O how mis-spent were all these stratagems, By skill divine inwoven in our frame ? 440 Where are Heav'n's holiness and mercy fled ? Laughs Heav'n, at once, at Virtue, and at Man? If not, why that discourag'd, 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 follow* ; 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 jaded spirits of the present hour, 174 THE COMPLAINT. 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 revers'd, And Av'rice is a virtue most divine. Is Faith a refuge for our happiness ? Most sure : And is it not for Reason too ? 465 Nothing this world unriddles, but the next. Whence inextinguishable thirst of gain ? From 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 !) Religion can reclaim, Refine, exalt, throw down their pois'nous 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 ? Those heav'n-born blushes tell us Man descends, Ev'n in the zenith of his earthly bliss : Should Reason take her infidel repose, 490 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 175 This honest Instinct speaks our lineage high j This Instinct calls on darkness to conceal Our rapturous relation to the stalls. Our glory covers us with noble shame, And he that 's unconfounded, is unmann'd. 495 The Man that blushes is not quite a brute. Thus far with thee, LORENZO ! will I close ; Pleasure is good, and Man for pleasure made ; But pleasure full of glory, and 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, th* authentic record runs : " Know, all ! know, infidels unapt to know ! 505 'T is Immortality your nature solves ; 'T is Immortality decyphers Man, And opens all the myst'ries 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 mis-measur'd 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, Arid evidence our title to the skies." 520 Ye gentle theologues, of calmer kind ! Whose constitution dictates to your pen, 176 THE COMPLAINT. Who, cold yourselves, think ardour comes from hell ! 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 ? Yet still, through their disgrace, a feeble ray Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell : But these (like that fali'n monarch when reclaim'd), When Reason mpderates the rein aright, 540 Shall re-ascend, remount their former sphere, Where once they soar'd illustrious ; ere seduc'd 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 Heav'n 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 j and all is great j THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 177 A crystalline transparency prevails, 555 And strikes full lustre through the human sphere : Consider Man as mortal, all is dark, And wretched ; Reason weeps at the survey. The learn'd LORENZO cries, " And let her weep, Weak, modern Reason : Ancient times were wise. 560 Authority, that venerable guide, Stands on my part ; the fam'd Athenian Porch (And who for wisdom so renown'd as they ?) Deny'd this immortality to Man." I grant it ; but affirm, they prov'd it too. 565 A riddle this ! Have patience ; I'll explain. What noble vanities, what moral flights, Glitt'ring 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 th' 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. 1 ' In men exploding all beyond the grave, 575 Strange doctrine, this! As doctrine, it was strange 5 But not, as prophesy ; for such it prov'd, 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 ? those tow'ring thoughts, that flew 585 A A 178 THE COMPLAINT. Such monstrous heights? From Instinct, and from Pride. The glorious instinct of a deathless soul, Confus'dly 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, glimm'ring through the gloom) : Smit with the pomp of lofty sentiments, Pleas'd Pride proclaim'd what Reason disbeliev'd. Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell, 595 Rav'd nonsense, destin'd 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, prov'd. Can then absurdities, as well as crimes, 60 1 Speak Man immortal ? All things speak him so. Much has been urg'd ; and dost thou call for more ? Call ; and with endless questions be distrest, All unresolvable, if earth is all. 605 " Why life, a moment ? infinite, desire ? Our wish, eternity ? Our home, the grave ? Heav'n 's promise dormant lies in human hope ; Who wishes life immortal, proves it too. Why happiness pursu'd, 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 Clarissa, call to thought : Why cordial friendship rivetted so deep, 615 As hearts to pierce at first, at parting, rend, THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 179 If friend, and friendship, vanish in an hour ? Is not this torment in the mask of joy ? Why by reflection marr'd the joys of sense ? Why past, and future, preying on our hearts, 620 Arid putting all our present joys to death ? Why labours Reason ? Instinct were as well ; Instinct, far better ; what can chuse, can err : O how infallible the thoughtless brute ! '!' were well his Holiness were half as sure. 625 Reason with inclination why at war ? Why sense of guilt ? Why conscience up in arms ?" Conscience of guilt is prophesy of pain, And bosom-counsel to decline the blow. Reason 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 ensure, 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 ! Couldst 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 ! Oh ! with what thoughts, thy hope, and my despair, A A 2 l8o THE COMPLAINT. i ' "'.. Abhorr'd Annihilation, blasts the soul, And wide- extends the bounds of human woe! 650 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 vanished ! 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! O for delusion ! O 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 curst than at the fall ? The sun goes out! The thorns shoot up! What thorns in every thought ! Why sense of better ? It embitters worse. Why sense f why life ? If but to sigh, then sink 670 To what I was ? Twice nothing ! and much woe ! Woe, from Heav'n's bounties! woe, from what was wont To flatter most, high intellectual pow'rs ! " 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 ? No, to shun That shocking science. Parent of despair ! Avert thy mirrox : If I see, I die. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. l8l " Know my Creator ? Climb his blest abode 680 By painful speculation, pierce the veil, Dive in his nature, read his attributes, And gaze in admiration on a foe, Obtruding life, with-holding 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 leagu'd with furies, and with thee, against me. " Know his atchievements ? study his renown ? Contemplate this amazing universe, Dropt from his hand, with miracles replete ! 695 For what ? 'Mid miracles of nobler name, To find one miracle of misery ? 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, And start' at Man, the single mourner there, 701 Breathing high hope! chain'd down to pangs and death? " Knowing is sufPring : And shall Virtue share The sigh of Knowledge ? 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 ev'ry vice, and swept to brutal dust ? Merit is madness ; virtue is a crime; 710 A crime to Reason, if it costs us pain l82 THE COMPLAINT. Unpaid : What pain, amidst a thousand more, To think the most abandoned, 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. Religion is mistake. Duty ! There 's none, but to repel the cheat. Ye cheats ! away ! ye daughters of my pride ! Who feign yourselves the fav'rites of the skies : 720 Ye tow'ring 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 ; Vain, vain ambitions! trouble me no more. 725 Why travel far in quest of sure defeat ? 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. " But not on equal terms with other brutes : 735 Their revels a more poignant relish yield, And safer too ; they never poisons chuse. 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 : J T is Man alone expostulates with Heav'n ; His, all the pow'r, and all the cause to mourn. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 183 Shall human eyes alone dissolve in tears ? And bleed, in anguish, none but human hearts ? 745 The wide-stretch'd realm of intellectual woe, Surpassing sensual far, is all our own. In life so fatally distinguished, why Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd, in death ? " Ere yet in being, was mankind in guilt ? 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 ? All-mortal, and all-wretched ! J T is too much ; 755 Unparallel'd in nature : 'T is too much On being unrequested at thy hands, Omnipotent ! for I see nought but pow'r. " 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 ! Oh 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 ! For aiding life's too small calamities, 766 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 ? Too much for Heav'n to make one emmet more ? 770 Too much for chaos to permit my mass A longer stay with essences unwrought, Unfashion'd, untormented into Man ? Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! Wretched capacity of frenzy, Thought ! 775 184 THE COMPLAINT. Wretched capacity of dying, Life ! Life, Thought, Worth, Wisdom, all (O foul revolt !) Once friends to peace, gone over to the foe. " Death, then, has chang'd its nature too : O Death! Come to my bosom, thou best gift of Heav'n! 780 Best friend of Man ! since Man is Man no more. Why in this thorny wilderness so long, Since there 's no promis'd land's ambrosial bow'r, To pay me with its honey for my stings ? If needful to the selfish schemes of Heav'n 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 ? Why so magnificently lodg'd despair ? At stated periods, sure-returning, roll 790 These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute Their length of labours, and of pains j nor lose Their misery's full measure ? Smiles with flow'rs, And fruits, promiscuous, ever-teeming earth, That Man may languish in luxurious scenes, 795 And in an Eden mourn his wither'd joys ? Claim earth and skies Man's admiration, due For such delights ? blest animals ! too wise To wonder ; and too happy to complain ! tc Our doom decreed demands a mournful scene : Why not a dungeon dark, for the condemn'd ? 801 Why not the dragon's subterraneous den, For Man to howl in ? Why not his abode Of the same dismal colour with his fate ? A Thebes, a Babylon, at vast expence 805 Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders, As congruous, as, for Man, this lofty dome, THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 185 Which prompts proud thought, and kindles high desirej 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 ; 8 1 1 And, round us, Death's inexorable hand Draws the dark curtain close ; undrawn no more. " 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 heav'n. Annihilation ! how it yawns before me ! Next moment I may drop from thought, from sense, The privilege of angels, and of worms, 821 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 pow'rs, For ever is extinguished . Horror ! Death ! Death of that death I fearless once survey'd ! When horror universal shall descend, And Heav'n'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 83$ Of matter, never dignify'd with life, Here lie proud rationals; the sons of heav'n ! The lords of earth ! the property of worms ! Beings of yesterday, and no to-morrow ! B B 186 THE COMPLAINT. Who liv'd in terror, and in pangs expir'd ! 840 All 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 ? I know thee proud : 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 ? Why then make the worm Thine equal ? Runs thy taste of pleasure high ? 855 "Why patronize sure death of ev'ry joy ? Charm riches ? Why chuse begg'ry in the grave, Of ev'ry hope a bankrupt ! and for ever ? Ambition, Pleasure, Avarice, persuade thee To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth, 860 They lately prov'd, 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, despis'd ? Or both wish'd, here, where neither can be found? 865 Such Man's perverse, eternal war with Heav'n ! Dar'st 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 ? THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 187 Oh ! for what crime, unmerciful LORENZO ! Destroys thy scheme the whole of human race ? Kind is fell Lucifer, compar'd to thee : Oh ! spare this waste of being half-divine ; 875 And vindicate th* ceconomy of Heav'n. Heav'n 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, A being blest, or worthy so to be? 880 Heav'n 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 drank ? 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, oh ! what depth of horror lies inclos'd ! 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, reduc'd to dust ? B B 2 l88 THE COMPLAINT. There's nought (thou say'st) but one eternal flux Of feeble essences, tumultuous driv'n 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 ? 910 Amid such hourly wrecks of being fair, Is there no central, all-sustaining base, All-realizing, all-connecting Pow'r, Which, as it call'd forth all things, can recall, And force Destruction to refund her spoil ? 915 Command the grave restore her taken prey ? 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 rip'ning time calls forth th' 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 grac'd, By germinating beings clust'ring round ! 925 A garland worthy the Divinity ! A throne, by Heav'n's omnipotence in smiles, Built (like a Pharos tovv'ring 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 presum'd : He rises from his fall. Think'st thou omnipotence a naked root, Each blossom fair of Deity destroy'd , ? 935 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 189 Nothing is dead ; nay, nothing sleeps ; each soul, That ever animated human clay, Now wakes ; is on the wing : And where, O where, Will the swarm settle ? When the trumpet's call, As sounding brass, collects us, round Heav'n's throne Conglob'd we bask in everlasting day, 941 (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 ! How bright my prospect shines ! how gloomy thine! A trembling world ! and a devouring God ! Earth, but the shambles of Omnipotence ! Heav'n's face all stain'd with causeless massacres 950 Of countless millions, born to feel the pang Of being lost. LORENZO ! can it be ? This bids us shudder at the thoughts of life. Who would be born to such a phantom world, Where nought substantial, but bur 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 j 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, Glitt'ring a moment, nor that moment sure, 965 'Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night, His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb ! THE COMPLAINT. LORENZO ! dost thou feel these arguments ? Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt ? How hast thou dar'd the DEITY dethrone ? 970 How dar'd indict him of a world like this ? If such the world, creation was a crime ; For what is crime, but cause of misery ? Retract, blasphemer ! and unriddle this, Of endless arguments above, below, 975 Without us, and within, the short result " If Mans immortal, there J s a GOD in Heav'n." But wherefore such redundancy ? such waste Of argument ? One sets my soul at rest j One obvious, and at hand, and, oh ! 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 despis'd it for its age. Truth is immortal as thy soul ; and fable As fleeting as thy joys : Be wise, nor make Heav'n's highest blessing, vengeance j O be wise ! 990 Nor make a curse of immortality. Say, know'st thou what it is ? or what thou art ? Know'st thou th* importance of a soul immortal ? 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 j And calls th 1 astonishing magnificence Of unintelligent creation poor. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 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 wak'd so long : 1005 Has wak'd, and work'd, for ages ; from the birth Of Nature to this unbelieving hour. 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 ? 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 ev'ry deed divine : 1015 That, is the chain of ages, which maintains Their obvious correspondence, and unites Most distant periods in one blest design : That, is the mighty hinge, on which have turn'd All revolutions, whether we regard 1020 The nat'ral, 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 ?" To lift us from this abject, to sublime; 1026 This flux, to permanent; this dark, to day; This foul, to pure ; this turbid, to serene ; This mean, to mighty ! for this glorious end Th' ALMIGHTY, rising, his long sabbath broke; 1030 The world was made ; was ruin'd ; was restor'd ; THE COMPLAINT. Laws from the skies were publish'd ; were repeal'd ; On earth, kings, kingdoms, rose; kings, kingdoms, fell j Fam'd sages lighted up the Pagan world ; Prophets from Sion darted a keen glance 10 35 Through distant age ; saints travelPd ; martyrs bled j By wonders sacred Nature stood controll'd ; The living were translated ; dead were rais'd ; Angels, and more than angels, came from Heav'n ; And, oh! for this, descended lower still ; 1040 Gilt was hell's gloom ; astonish'd at his guest, For one short moment Lucifer ador'd : LORENZO ! and wilt thou do less ? For this, That hallow'd page, fools scoff at, was inspir'd, 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 pow'rs To mar, than those of light, this end to gain. O 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-hov'ring o'er this little brand of strife ! This sublunary ball but strife, for what? In their own cause conflicting ? 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, stedfast, stern, Such foes implacable, are good, and ill ; Yet Man, vain Man, would mediate peace between them. Think not this fiction. " There was war in heav'n." From heav'n's high crystal mountain, where it hung, Th' ALMIGHTY'S out-stretcht arm took down his bow, And shot his indignation at the deep : 1072 Re-thunder'd Hell, and darted all her fires. And seems the stake of little moment still ? And slumbers Man, who singly caus'd the storm ? 1075 He sleeps. And art thou shock'd at mysteries ? The greatest, thou. How dreadful to reflect, What ardour, care, and counsel, mortals cause In breasts divine ! How little in their own ! Where-e'er I turn, how new proofs pour upon me ! How happily this wondrous view supports 1081 My former argument ! How strongly strikes Immortal life's full demonstration, here ! Why this exertion ? why this strange regard From heav'n's Omnipotent indulg'd to Man ? 1085 Because, in Man, the glorious, dreadful pow'r, Extremely to be pain'd, or blest, for ever. Duration gives importance ; swells the price. An angel, if a creature of a day, What would he be ? A trifle of no weight ; 1090 Or stand, or fall ; no matter which ; he 's gone. Because immortal, therefore is indulg'd This strange regard of deities to dust. Hence, Heav'n looks down on Earth with all her eyes : Hence, the soul's mighty moment in her sight : 1095 c c THE COMPLAINT. Hence, ev'ry soul has partizans above, And ev'ry thought a critic in the skies : Hence, clay, vile clay ! has angels for its guard, And ev'ry guard a passion for his charge : Hence, from all age, the cabinet divine noo 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 j 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 : Witftess, ye billows ! whose returning tide, ' 1 1 to Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air, Swept Egypt, and her menaces, to hell : Witness, ye flames th' Assyrian tyrant blew To sev'n-fold rage, as impotent, as strong : And thou, Earth! witness, whose expanding jaws 1115 Clos'd o'er presumption's sacrilegious sons : Has not each element, in turn, subscrib'd The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise ? Has not flame, ocean, aether, earthquake, strove To strike this truth through adamantine Man? 1120 If not all-adamant, LORENZO ! hear ; All is delusion, Nature is wrapt 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 1 125 (As far as Man can penetrate), or heav'n Is an immense, inestimable prize - 9 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 195 Or all is nothing, or that prize is all. And shall each toy be still a match for heav'n ? And full equivalent for groans below ? 1 1 30 Who would not give a trifle to prevent What he would give a thousand worlds to cure ? 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, impos'd on thee This hard alternative ; or, to renounce Thy reason, and thy sense ; or, to believe ? What then is unbelief ? 'T is an exploit ; A strenuous enterprise : To gain it, Man 1 145 Must burst through ev'ry bar of common sense, Of common shame, magnanimously wrong. And what rewards the sturdy combatant ? His prize, repentance ; infamy his crown. But wherefore infamy ? 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, ev'ry weakness, ev'ry guilt ; And strong temptation ripens it to birth. XI 55 If this life's gain invites him to the deed, Why not his country sold, his father slain ? *T is virtue to pursue our good supreme ; And his supreme, his only good is here. c c 2 THE COMPLAINT. Ambition, Av'rice, by the wise disdain'd, 1160 Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools, And think a turf, or tombstone, 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 prize and prospect are no more ; Virtue no more we think the will of Heav'n. Would Heav'n quite beggar Virtue, if belov'd ? " Has Virtue charms ?" I grant her heav'nly fair ; But if unportion'd, all will Int'rest wed j 1170 Though that our admiration, this our choice. The Virtues grow on Immortality ; That root destroyed, they wither and expire. A DEITY believ'd, will nought avail j Rewards and punishments make GOD ador'd ; i*75 And hopes and fears give Conscience all her pow'r. 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 j 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 ? Such candidates there are For more than death ; for utter loss of being, 1 1 86 Being, the basis of the DEITY ! Ask you the cause ? The cause they will not tell : Nor need they : Oh the sorceries of sense ! They work this transformation on the soul, 1 190 Dismount her like the serpent at the fall, THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Dismount her from her native wing (which soar'd Ere-while ethereal heights), and throw her down, To lick the dust, and crawl, in such a thought. Is it in words to paint you ? O ye fall'n ! 1 195 Fall'n from the wings of reason, 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 th' irrationals you scorn ! More base than those you rule ! than those you pity, Far more Undone ! O ye most infamous Of beings, from superior dignity! 1205 Deepest in woe from means of boundless bliss ! Ye curst by blessings infinite ! because Most highly favoured, most profoundly lost ! Ye motley mass of contradiction 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 heav'n, 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 pow'r. LORENZO ! this black brotherhood renounce j Renounce St. Evremont, and read St. Paul. Ere rapt by miracle, by reason wing'd, 1220 His mounting mind made long abode in heav'n. This is freethinking, unconfin'd to parts, To send the soul, on curious travel bent, IC)8 THE COMPLAINT. Through all the provinces of human thought ; To dart her flight through the whole sphere of Man ; Of this vast universe to make the tour j 1226 In each recess of space, and time, at home ; Familiar with their wonders ; diving deep ; And like a prince of boundless int'rests there, Still most ambitious of the most remote; 1230 To look on truth unbroken, and entire j Truth in the system, the full orb ; ^here truths By truths enlightened, and sustain'd, afford An arch-like, strong foundation, to support Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete 1235 Conviction ; here, the more we press, we stand More firm ; who most examine most believe. Parts, like half-sentences, confound j the whole Conveys the sense, and GOD is understood ; Who not in fragments writes to human race: 1240 Read 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, Of human souls one day the destin'd range ? 1 246 And what yon boundless orbs to godlike Man ? Those num'rous worlds that throng the firmament, And ask more space in heav'n, can roll at large In Man's capacious thought, and still leave room 1 250 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 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 199 How small a part ! of nothing, shall I say ? Why not ? Friends, our chief treasure ! how they drop ! LUCIA, NARCISSA fair, PHILANDER, gone! The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has op'd 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 Weigh anchor ; spread thy sails j call ev'ry wind ; Eye thy great Pole-star ; make the land of life. Two kinds of life has double-natur'd Man, And two of death ; the last far more severe. Life animal is nurtur'd by the sun ; I2 75 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 Heav'n, But Nature's course ; as sure as plummets fall. Since GOD, or Man, must alter, ere they meet (Since light and darkness blend not in one sphere), 'T is manifest, LORENZO! who must change. 1286 If, then, that double death should prove thy lot, SCO THE COMPLAINT. Blame not the bowels of the DEITY ; Man shall be blest, as far as Man permits. Not Man alone, all rationals, Heav'n arms 1 290 With an illustrious, but tremendous pow'r To counteract its own most gracious ends ; And this, of strict necessity, not choice : That pow'r deny'd, men, angels were no more, But passive engines, void of praise, or blame. 1295 A nature rational implies the pow'r Of being blest, 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. ^oo Heav'n wills our happiness, allows our doom ; Invites us ardently, but not compels ; Heav'n but persuades, almighty Man decrees j 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 ! But wherefore doubtful still ? Eternal life is Nature's ardent wish : 1 Z IQ What ardently we wish, we soon believe ; Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroy'd : What has destroy'd it ? Shall I tell thee, what ? When fear'd the future, 't is no longer wish'd ; And, when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve. 13*5 " 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 ! THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 2O1 Fear what ? a dream ? a fable ? 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 *3 2 5 A creed, and a confession of our sins : Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines. LORENZO ! with LORENZO clash no more : Nor longer a transparent vizor wear. Think'st thou, Religion only has the 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 there hypocrisy so foul as this ? J 335 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 below. 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 j An honest deist, where the gospel shines, Matur'd to nobler, in the Christian ends. When that blest change arrives, e'en cast aside D D 202 THE COMPLAINT. 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 j J 355 And ardent Hope anticipates the skies. Of that bright sun, LORENZO ! scale the sphere ; 'T is easy ; it invites thee ; it descends From heav'n 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 j Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; In Nature's ruins not one letter lost : 'T is printed in the mind of gods for ever. 1365 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 phrenzy to the brain ! 1370 Parts push us on to pride, and pride to shame ; Pert Infidelity is Wit's cockade, To grace the brazen brow that braves the skies, By loss of being, dreadfully secure. LORENZO ! if thy doctrine wins the day, '375 And drives my dreams, defeated, from the field ; If this is all, if earth 's the 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. Blest scheme ! which life deprives of comfort, death Of hope , and which Vice only recommends. THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 203 If so ; where, infidels ! your bait thrown out To catch weak converts ? 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 ? Yet know, its title flatters you, not me; I 39 Yours be the praise to make my title good ; Mine, to bless Heav'n, and triumph in your praise. But since so pestilential your disease, Though sov'reign is the med'cine I prescribe, As yet, I'll 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, E'er wish (and wish in vain !) that souls could die ? What ne'er can die, oh ! grant to live ; and crown The wish, and aim, and labour of the skies j 1401 Increase, and enter on the joys of heav'n : 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 ? Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all ? This is a miracle ; and that no more. Who gave beginning, can exclude an end. 1410 Deny thou art : Then doubt if thou shalt be. A miracle with miracles inclos'd, 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 D D 2 204 THE COMPLAINT. Admit a GOD that mystery supreme ! That Cause uncaus'd ! All other wonders cease j 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 chuse 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 allj 1430 The future, faintly : Can we, then, be Men ? If Men, LORENZO ! the reverse is right. Reason is Man's peculiar : Sense, the brute's. The present is the scanty realm of Sense ; The future, Reason's empire unconfin'd : J 435 On that expending all her godlike pow'r, 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 defin'd : 1440 Reason is upright stature in the soul. Oh ! be a Man ; and strive to be a God. " For what? (thou say'st:) To damp the joys of life?" 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 j THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED, 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 j And plunge in toils and dangers for repose. If hope precarious, and if things, when gairi'd, Of little moment, and as little stay, Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys ; J 45S What then, that hope, which nothing can defeat, Our leave unask'd? rich hope of boundless bliss ! Bliss, past Man's pow'r 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 : Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 1461 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 : 'T is all, our present state can safely bear, Health to the frame ! and vigour to the mind ! A joy attemper'd ! a chastis'd delight ! Like the fair summer-ev'ning, mild, and sweet ! 1470 'T is Man's full cup j his paradise below ! A blest hereafter, then, or hop'd, 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 praise I) 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 j and be graver still. 1480 NIGHT THE EIGHTH. VIRTUE'S APOLOGY ; OR, THE MAN OF THE WORLD ANSWERED. IN WHICH ARE CONSIDERED, THE LOVE OF THIS LIFE ; THE AMBITION AND PLEASURE, WITH THE WIT AND WISDOM, OF THE WORLD. AND has all Nature, then, espous'd my part ? Have I brib'd heav'n, and earth, to plead against thee ? And is thy soul immortal ? What remains ? All, all, LORENZO; make immortal, blest. Unblest immortals ! what can shock us more ? 5 And yet LORENZO still affects the world ; There, stows his treasure j thence, his title draws, 208 THE COMPLAINT. Man of the World ! (for such wouldst thou be call'd j) And art thou proud of that inglorious style ? Proud of reproach ? for a reproach it was, 10 In ancient days ; and Christian in an age, When men were men, and not asham'd of heav'n Fir'd their ambition, as it crown'd their joy. Sprinkled with dews from the Castalian font, Fain would I re-baptize thee, and confer 1 5 A purer spirit, and a nobler name. Thy fond attachments fatal, and inflam'd, 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 ! 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, 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 blest behold) ; and, in one glory, pour Their blended blaze on Man's astonish'd sight j A blaze the least illustrious objecl: 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, VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 209 If unattain'd our highest ? O LORENZO ! What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 40 What tow'ring 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 heav'n's register inrolls, 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, O LORENZO! thine? This world ! and this, unrivalPd by the skies ! A world, where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold, Three daemons that divide its realms between them, 55 With strokes alternate buffet to and fro Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball j Till, with the giddy circle sick and tir'd, It pants for peace, and drops into despair. Such is the world LORENZO sets above 6*0 That glorious promise, angels were esteem'd Too mean to bring ; a promise, their Ador'd Descended to communicate, and press, By counsel, miracle, life, death, on Man. Such is the world LORENZO'S wisdom vvoos, 65 And on its thorny pillow seeks repose ; A pillow, which, like opiates ill-prepar'd, Intoxicates, but not composes ; fills The visionary mind with gay chimeras, All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest j 70 E E 21O THE COMPLAINT. What unfeign'd travel, and what dreams of joy ! How frail, men, things ! how momentary both 1 Fantastic chase, of shadows hunting shades ! The gay, the busy, equal, though unlike ; Equal in wisdom, differently wise ! 75 Through flow'ry 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 bus'ness 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 ? *T is approbation strikes the string of joy. 85 What wondrous prize has kindled this career, Stuns with the din, and choaks us with the dust a On life's gay stage, one inch above the grave ? The proud run up and down in quest of eyes \ The sensual, in pursuit of something worse ; 90 The grave, of gold j the politic, of pow'r ; And all, of other butterflies, as vain ! As eddies draw things frivolous, and light, How is Man's heart by vanity drawn in ! On the swift circle of returning toys, 95 Whirl'd, straw-like, round arid round, and then in- gulph'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 learnt the truths it would inspire. 100 Shall Truth be silent, because Folly frowns ? VIRTUES APOLOGY. 211 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 list'ning world ! Man is the tale of narrative old Time ; Sad tale! which high as Paradife begins j HO 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'erwise, Who dares to trufl them ; and laugh round the year, At still-confiding, still-confounded Man ; 125 Confiding, though confounded ; hoping on, Untaught by trial, unconvinc'd by proof, And ever looking for the never-seen : 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. 2. 212 THE COMPLAINT. O THOU, who dost permit these ills to fall, 134 For gracious ends, and wouldst that Man should mourn! O THOU, whose hand this goodly fabric fram'd, Who kno w'st it best, and wouldst that Man should know! What is this sublunary world ? a vapour ! A vapour all it holds j itself a vapour, From the damp bed of chaos, by thy beam 140 Exhal'd, ordain'd to swim its destin'd hour In ambient air, then melt, and disappear. Earth's days are numbered, nor remote her doom ; As mortal, though less transient, than her sons j Yet they doat on her, as the world and they 145 Were both eternal, solid ; THOU ! a dream. . They doat, on what ? Immortal views apart, A region of outsides ! a land of shadows ! A fruitful field of flow'ry promises ! A wilderness of 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 i all alike in this, 155 All restless, anxious ; tost 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 ; 1 60 Or Virtue's helm, to shape the course design'd ; All, more or less, capricious fate lament, 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 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 213 To mutual hurt, by gusts of passion driv'n, And suff'ring 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-op'ning, 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-flatter'd, unexperienc'd, 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 event ? 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 ! 't is lost ! 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 j Tp-morrow knows not they were ever born, 214, THE COMPLAINT. Others a short memorial leave behind, Like a flag floating, when the bark 's ingulph'd ; It floats a moment, and is seen no more : 200 One Cassar lives ; a thousand are forgot. How few, beneath auspicious planets born, (Darlings of Providence ! fond Fate's elect !) With swelling sails make good the promis'd port, With all their wishes freighted ! Yet ev'n 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 are they ? 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 treach'rous blessings, at the day of need, 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, VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 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 ? " 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 befal 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 j 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 terrify'd ; 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. Ah ! what avails his innocence ? The task Injoin'd must discipline his early pow'rs ; He learns to sigh, ere he is known to sin ; 260 Guiltless, and sad ! a wretch before the fall ! Ql6 THE COMPLAINT. 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 disciplin'd aright (if not, 'Twill sink our poor account to poorer still) j Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty, He leaps inclosure, 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 lesson 's hard, and ill deserves his pains ; Unteaching all his virtuous nature taught, Or books (fair Virtue's advocates) inspir'd. 275 For who receives him into public life ? Men of the world, the terras-filial breed, Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere (Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his sight), And, in their hospitable arms, inclose : 280 Men, who think nought so strong of the romance, So rank knight- errant, as a real friend : Men, that act up to Reason's golden rule, All weakness of affection quite subdu'd : 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, J t will now appear : 290 See, the steel* d files of seasoned veterans, Train'd to the world, in burnish'd falsehood bright ; Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace j VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 217 All soft sensation, in the throng, rubb'd off; All their keen purpose, in politeness, sheath'd ; 295 His friends eternal -during interest ; His foes implacable when worth their while ; At war with ev'ry 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 diffiis'd ; 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 heav'nly Virtue is our guard. Thus, a strange kind of curst 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 j Where specious titles dignify disgrace j And Nature's injuries are arts of life 5 325 F F 2l8 THE COMPLAINT. Where brighter reason prompts to bolder crimes j And heav'nly talents make infernal hearts ; That unsurmountable extreme of guilt ! Poor Machiavel ! who laboured hard his plan, Forgot, that Genius need not go to school j 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 shews his heart, Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. 335 A man I knew, who liv'd 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 ev'ry fool alive ; 340 And, dying, curst the friend on whom he liv'd. 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 sweet-meats 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 ! And lose the thanks of those few friends they serve ? For who can thank the man he cannot see ? 356 Why so much cover ? it defeats itself. VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 219 Ye that know all things ! know ye riot men's hearts Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd ? For why conceal'd ? 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 j His incapacity is his renown. 'T is great, *t is manly, to disdain disguise ; It shews our spirit, or it proves our strength. 365 Thou say'st, 't is needful : Is it therefore right ? Howe'er, I grant it some small sign of grace, To strain at an excuse : And wouldst thou then Escape that cruel need ? Thou may'st, 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 Heav'n, Or make us daemons, long before we die. 380 To shew 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 deify'd 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 ? F F 2 220 THE COMPLAINT. 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 *s most happy, who the least laments ? Where much, much patience, the most envy'd 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 my 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 : If pride, and sense, ate 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 ? 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 Porch 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 J s 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. VIRTUES APOLOGY. 221 And, first, thy Caucasus, Ambition calls ; Mountain of torments ! eminence of woes ! Of courted woes ! and courted through mistake ! 'T is not Ambition charms thee ; 't is a cheat 425 Will make thee start, as H at his Moor. Dost grasp at greatness ? first, know what it is : Think'st thou thy greatness in distinction lies ? Not in the feather, wave it e'er so high, By Fortune stuck to mark us from the throng, 430 Is glory lodg'd : 'T is lodg'd in the reverse j In that which joins, hi 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, 4_,o Throw scorn around thee ; cast it on thy slaves ; Thy slaves, and equals : How scorn cast on them Rebounds 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 dispos'd 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, them art } 222 THE COMPLAINT. All the distinctions of this little life Are quite cutaneous, foreign to the man. 455 When, through Death's streights, Earth's subtle serpents creep, Which wriggle into wealth, or climb renown, As crooked Satan the forbidden tree j They leave their party-colour'd robe behind, All that now glitters, while they rear aloft 460 Their brazen 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 minds ; 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. Th' ALMIGHTY, from his throne, on earth surveys Nought greater, than an honest, humble heart ; 476 An humble heart, his residence ! pronounc'd 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 Th' illustrious master of a name unknown ; Whose worth unrivall'd, and unwitness'd, loves Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with men j VIRTUES APOLOGY. 323 And Peace, beyond the world's conception, 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 bus'ness, lies j Deny'd the public eye, the public voice, 490 As if he liv'd 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, 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 ? 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 ? His fame, which (like the mighty Caesar), crown'd With laurels, in full senate, greatly falls, 506 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 fancy'd, 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, 224* THE COMPLAINT. In fact, the point, in fancy most pursu'd. Who court applause, oblige the world in this ; They gratify Man's passion to refuse. Superior honour, when assum'd, is lost ; 520 Ev'n good men turn banditti, and rejoice, Like Kouli-Kan, 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 j 525 Ambition's dearer far stands unimpeach'd, Gay Pleasure ! Proud Ambition is her slave ; For her, he soars at great, and hazards ill j For her, he rights, and bleeds, or overcomes ; 529 And paves his way, with crowns, to reach her smile : Who can resist her charms?" Or should, LORENZO? What mortal shall resist, where angels yield ? Pleasure 's the mistress of ethereal pow'rs ; 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 holds all in chains : Some most affect the black ; and some the fair ; Some honest pleasures 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. VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 225 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 j 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, To which no single sacrifice may fall ; 5^ For her, the saint abstains ; the miser starves ; The stoic proud, for pleasure, Pleasure scorn'd j For her, Affliction's daughters grief indulge, And find, or hope, a luxury in tears ; 565 For her, guilt, shame, toil, danger, we defy ; And, with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. Thus universal her despotic pow'r. And as her empire wide, her praise is just. Patron of pleasure ! doter on delight ! 57 I am thy rival ; Pleasure I profess ; Pleasure 's 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 flow'r j 575 And honest Epicurus' foes were fools. But this sounds harsh, and gives the wise offence ; If o'erstrain'd wisdom ^till retains the name. How knits Austerity her cloudy brow, And blames, as bold, and hazardous, the praise 580 G G THE COMPLAINT. Of Pleasure, to Mankind, unprais'd, too dear ! Ye modern stoics ! hear my soft reply : Their senses men will trust : We can't impose j Or, if we could, is imposition right ? Own honey sweet; but, owning, add this sting ; 585 " When mix'd with poison, it is deadly too.' 1 Truth never was indebted to a lie. Is nought but Virtue to be prais'd, as good ? Why then is health preferred 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 Heav'n -, 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, Was meant to minister, and not to mar, Imperial Pleasure, queen of human hearts. LORENZO ! thou her majesty's renown'd, 600 Though uncoift, counsel, learned in the world ! Who think'st thyself a Murray, with disdain May'st look on me. Yet, my Demosthenes ! Canst thou plead Pleasure's cause as well as I ? Know'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage ? 605 Attend my song, and thou shalt know them all ; And know thyself j 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? VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 227 No man e'er found a happy life by chance j Or yawn'd it into being, with a wish ; Or, with the snout of grov'ling Appetite, 615 E'er smelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. An art it is, and must be learnt ; and learnt 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!] 'tis never sought in vain. First,Pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and grandeur, see: Brought forth by Wisdom, nurst 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 ? (formidable name !) 630 What, but the fountain, or defence, of joy ? 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. Of 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 Heav'n. In aid to Reason was the goddess sent ; To call up all its strength by such a charm. G G 2 228 THE COMPLAINT. Pleasure, first, succours Virtue ; in return, 645 Virtue gives Pleasure an eternal reign. What, but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith, Supports life nat'ral, civil, and divine ? '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 j (All pray'r would cease, if unbeliev'd 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 ev'ry 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 ?" Thou'lt shortly see, While Pleasure's nature is at large display 'd ; 66 1 Already sung her origin and ends. Those glorious ends, by kind, or by degree, When Pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice, And vengeance too ; it hastens into pain : 665 From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy ; Prom wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death ; Heav'n'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, ungaug'd * c By Temperance, by Reason unrefin'd ? A thousand daemons lurk within the lee. Heav'n, others, and ourselves ! uninjur'd these, Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more divine j 675 Angels are angels from indulgence there j VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 229 'T is unrepenting pleasure makes a god. Dost think thyself a god from other joys ? A victim rather ! shortly sure to bleed. The wrong must mourn : CanHeav'n's appointments fail ? Can Man outwit Omnipotence ? strike out 68 1 A self-wrought happiness unmeant by Him Who made us, and the world we should enjoy ? Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence Its dissonance, or harmony, shall rise. 685 Heav'n bid the soul this mortal frame inspire j Bid 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 ?" No : Piety is more ; 't is Virtue's source ; Mother of ev'ry 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 ^ature joins ; and thus confute themselves. With Piety begins all good on earth ; 'T is the first born of Rationality. Conscience, her first law broken, wounded lies ; 700 Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; A feign'd affection bounds her utmost pow'r. Some we can't love, but for th' ALMIGHTY'S sake j 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's unkind. On Piety, humanity is built ; And, on humanity, much happiness ; 230 THE COMPLAINT. And yet still more on Piety itself. A soul in commerce with her GOD, is heav'n ; 710 Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life ; The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart. A Deity believ'd, is joy begun ; A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd ; A Deity belov'd, 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 gulph, and all its horror hides ; Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy, That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still ; 720 Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, 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 heav'n, and sets his foot on hell. 725 LORENZO ! when wast thou at church before ? Thou think'st the service long : But is it just ? 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 j Verse disaffects it, and LORENZO smiles ; Yet has she her seraglio full of charms ; And such as age shall heighten, not impair. Art thou dejected ? Is thy mind o'ercast ? 735 Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest chuse, To chase thy gloom. " Go, fix some weighty truth ; Chain down some passion ; do some gen'rous good j Teach Ignorance to see, or Grief to smile ; Correct thy friend j befriend thy greatest foe j 740 VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 23! 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 censur'd 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 shews a scorner, or it makes a fool ; And sins, as hurting others, or ourselves. 3 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 ? What for dejection, where presides a Pow'r, 76"! Who call'd us into being to be blest ? 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 But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth, A shallow stream of happiness betray : Too happy to be sportive, he's serene. Yet wouldst though laugh (but at thy own expense), This counsel strange should I presume to give 779 " Retire, and read thy bible, to be gay." There truths abound of sov'reign aid to peace ; 232 THE COMPLAINT. Ah ! do not prize them less, because inspir'd, As thou, and thine, are apt and proud to do. If not inspir'd, 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. But these, thou think'st, are gloomy paths to joy. True joy in sunshine ne'er was found at first ; They, first, themselves offend, who greatly please ; And travel only gives us sound repose. 786 Heav'n sells all pleasure j effort is the price ; The joys of conquest, are the joys of Man j And 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-tim'd fondness, is undone. A man of pleasure is a man of pains. Thou wilt not take the trouble to be blest. False joys, indeed, are born from want of thought; From thought's full bent, and energy, the truej 796 And that demands a mind in equal poize, Remote from gloomy grief, and glaring joy. 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? Can joy, like thine, secure itself an hour ? Can joy, like thine, meet accident unshock'd ? VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 233 Or ope the door to honest Poverty ? 805 Or talk with threat'ning Death, and not turn pale ? In such a world, and such a nature, these Are needful fundamentals of delight : These fundamentals give delight indeed j t Delight, pure, delicate, and durable ; 810 Delight, unshaken, masculine, divine ; A constant, and a sound, but serious joy. Is Joy the daughter of Seventy ? It is : Yet far my doctrine from severe. " Rejoice for ever :" It becomes a Man ; 81 j 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 ev'ry 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 y 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 How aggrandiz'd, the smallest thing we do ! Thus, nothing is insipid to the wise ; 835 To thee, insipid all, but what is mad j H H 234 THE COMPLAINT. Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt. " Mad ! (thou reply'st, with indignation fir'd) ; Of ancient sages proud to tread the steps, I follow Nature." Follow Nature still, 840 But look it be thine own : Is Conscience, then, No part of Nature ? Is she not supreme ? Thou regicide ! O raise her from the dead ! Then, follow Nature ; and resemble GOD. When, spite of Conscience, Pleasure is pursu'cf, Man's nature is unnaturally pleas'd : 846 And what's unnatural, is painful too At intervals, and must disgust ev'n thee ! The fact thou know'st ; but not, perhaps, the cause. Virtue's foundations with the world's were laid ; 850 Heav*n mix'd her with our make, and twisted close Her sacred int'rests 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 ? 855 And one, in their eternal war, must bleed. If one must suffer, which should least be spar'd ? 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 : 863 Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul On past, and future, forages for joy. *T is her's, by retrospect, through time to range ; And forward time's great sequel to survey. Could human courts take vengeance on the mind, 865 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 ? VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 255 The man is dead, who for the body lives, LurM, by the beating of his pulse, to list 870 With ev'ry 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 ev'ry vice, 875 While ev'ry virtue wounds it to the heart ; Humility degrades it, Justice robs, Blest 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? 'Tis 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 Pow*r, 890 From whom she springs, and all she can enjoy. Other self-love is but disguis'd self-hate ; More mortal than the malice of our foes ; A self-hate, now, scarce felt ; then felt full-sore, When being curst, extinction loud-implor'd ; 895 And ev'ry thing preferred 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 betrayed, By disaffection to the present hour ! 900 H H 2 THE COMPLAINT. Imagination wanders far a-field : The future pleases : Why ? The present pains. " But that 's a secret." Yes, which all men know ; And know from thee, discover'd unawares. Thy ceaseless agitation restless rolls 905 From cheat to che^t, impatient of a pause ; What is it ? '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? 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 shewn in standing still* The first sure symptom of a mind in health, Is rest at 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 ; Slipp'ry the false, and tossing as the wave, This, a wild wanderer on earth, like Cain j That, like the fabled, self-enamour'd boy, 930 Home-contemplation her supreme delight ; She dreads an interruption from without, VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 237 Smit with her own condition ; and the more Intense she gazes, still it charms the more. 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 overflowing makes an angel here. Such angels all, entitled to repose On Him who governs fate : Tho* tempest frowns, 940 Though Nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heav'n ! To lean on Him, on whom archangels lean ! With inward eyes, and silent as the grave, They stand collecting ev'ry 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 heav'n : Hence, are they studious of sequest'red 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 blest, 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. O for a joy from thy PHILANDER'S spring ! A spring perennial, rising in the breast, And permanent, as pure ! no turbid stream Of rapt'rous 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 , ? 238 THE COMPLAINT. Vain 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 : That is the gem : Sell all, and purchase that. Why go a-begging to contingencies, 970 Not gain'd with ease, nor safely lov'd, if gain'd ? At good fortuitous, draw back, and pause ; Suspect it ; what thou canst ensure, enjoy ; And nought but what thou giv'st 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 j And other joys ask leave for their approach ; Nor, unexamin'd, 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 ! 984 Thy thoughts are vagabonds : All outward-bound, '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 inflam'd the more !) Fancy still cruises, when poor Sense is tir'd. Imagination is the Paphian shop, Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, 995 Bids foul ideas, in their dark recess, VIRTUES APOLOGY. 239 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, On angel-wing, descending from above, tool Which these, with art divine, would counterwork, And form celestial armour for thy peace. 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 ! tho' 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 j (Such is the fate of honest Protestants !) And poor Magnificence is starv'd to death. 1015 Hence just resentment, indignation, ire ! Be pacify'd ; 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 eriter'd at an eye ; True happiness resides in things unseen. No smiles of Fortune ever blest the bad, Nor can her frowns rob Innocence of joys ; That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor : 1025 So tell his Holiness, and be reveng'd. Pleasure, we both agree, is Man's chief good ; Our only contest, what deserves the name 240 THE COMPLAINT. Give Pleasure's name to nought, but what has pass'd Th' authentic seal of Reason (which, like YORKE, Demurs on what it passes), and defies I 3 I The tooth of Time ; when past, a pleasure still ; Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age, And doubly to be priz'd, as it promotes Our future, while it forms our present, joy. 1O 35 Some joys the future overcast ; and some Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb. Some joys endear eternity; some give Abhorr'd annihilation dreadful charms. Are rival joys contending for thy choice ? 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 Heav'n 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 : Ev'n 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 learnt ; To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain. Fir'd at the prospect of unclouded bliss, 1 055 Heav'n in reversion, like the sun, as yet Beneath th' 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 VIRTUE S APOLOGY. But can harangues blow back strong Nature's stream ? Or stem the tide Heav'n pushes through our veins, Which sweeps away Man's impotent resolves, And lays his labour level with the world ?" 1064 Themselves men make their comment on mankind ; And think nought is, but what they find at home : Thus, weakness to chimera turns the truth. Nothing romantic has the muse prescrib*d. Above, LORENZO 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 Heav'n, Leans all that way, his bias to the stars. The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise His lustre more ; though bright without a foil : 1076 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 at sea, 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 feetj, Excite his pity, not impair his peace. Earth's genuine sons, the scepter'd, and the slave, A mingled mob ! a wand'ring herd ! he sees, 1090 Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike ! His full reverse in all ! What higher praise ? i i 24,2 THE COMPLAINT. What stronger demonstration of the right ? The present all their care ; the future, his. When public welfare calls, or private want, They give to fa*ne ; his bounty he conceals. Their virtues varnish Nature ; his, exalt. Mankind's esteem they court 5 and he, his own. Theirs, the wild chase of false felicities ; His, the compos'd possession of the true. nco Alike throughout is his consistent piece, 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 robej each puff of fortune blows 1105 The tatters by, and shews 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 ; 1 1 10 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. U2O Himself too much he prizes to be proud, And nothing thinks so great in Man, as Man, Too dear he holds his int'rest, to neglect Another's welfare, or his right invade j VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 243 Their interest, like a lion, lives on prey* 1125 They kindle at the shadow of a wrong ; Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on Heav'n, Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe ; Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. A cover'd heart their character defends ; 1 130 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 : 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. 1 j 40 But nothing charms LORENZO, like the firm, Undaunted breast and whose is that high praise ? They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, And shew no fortitude, but in the field ; If there they shew it, 't is for glory shewn ; 1 145, Nor will that cordial always man their hearts. A cordial his sustains, that cannot fail : By pleasure unsubdu'd, unbroke by pain, He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts. All-bearing, dl-attempting, till he falls ; 1 1 59 And when he falls, writes vici on his shield- From magnanimity, all fear above ; From nobler recompense, above applause ; Which owes to Man's short out-look all its charms. Backward to credit what he never felt, 1 155 LORENZO cries " Where shines this miracle? I I 2 244 THE COMPLAINT. . 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 shews us An uninverted system of a Man. n6f 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. 1165 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 disengag'd from Heav'n. 1 1 70 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. IJ 75 His head is clear, because his heart is cool, By worldly competitions uninflam'd. The mod'rate movements of his soul admit Distinct ideas, and matur'd debate, An eye impartial, and an even scale ; 1 180 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 ? it must be doubly weak ; Strange truth ! as soon would they believe the Creed. Yet thus it is ; nor otherwise can be ; 1 1 86 So far from aught romantic what I sing. Bliss has no being, Virtue has no strength, VIRTUE S APOLOGY. 245 But from the prospect of immortal life. Who thinks earth all, or (what weighs just the same) Who cares no farther, must prize what it yields; 1191 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. 1 195 J 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 them, that for a season shines. 1203 Each act, each thought, he questions, " what its weight, Its colour what, a thousand ages hence ?" 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, ally'd, descend to feed the fire ; And Death, which others slays, makes him a god. And now, LORENZO ! bigot of the world ! 1210 Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by Heav'n ! Stand by thy scorn, and be reduc'd 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 THE COMPLAINT. 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 ? No ; for Wit is thine ; 1225 And Wit talks most, when least she has to say, And Reason interrupts not her career. She'll say That mists above the mountains rise ; And, with a thousand pleasantries, amuse : She'll sparkle, puzzle, flutter, raise a dust, 1 230 And fly conviction, in the dust she rais'd. Wit, how delicious to Man's dainty taste ! J 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 j 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 j Chance often hits it, and, to pique thee more, See Dulness, blund'ring on vivacities, Shakes her sage head at the calamity, 1245 Which has expos'd, 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 j 1 250 Or if there found, 't is sacred to the few j While a lewd prostitute to multitudes, VIRTUE S APOLOGY. Frequent, as fatal, Wit : In civil live, Wit makes an enterpriser ; Sense a Man. Wit hates authority ; commotion loves, I2 55 And thinks herself the lightning of the storm. In states, 'tis dangerous ; in religion, death : Shall Wit turn Christian, when the dull believe ? Sense is our helmet, Wit is but the plume ; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. 1260 Sense is the di'mond, weighty, solid, sound ; When cut by Wit, it casts a brighter beam ; Yet, Wit apart, it is a di'mond still. Wit, widow'd of Good Sense, is worse than nought j It hoists more sail to run against a rock. 1265 Thus, a half-Chesterfield 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 Is but a sorrow tickling, ere it stings. Let not the cooings of the world allure thee ; Which of her lovers ever found her true ? 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 j She gives but little, nor that little, long. There is, 1 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 THE COMPLAINT. On juices, through the well-ton'd tubes well-strain'd ; A. nice machine ! scarce ever tun'd aright ; 1286 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 immers'd, or fell despair. 1 290 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; 12 95 A single sentence proof against the world. * e Soul, body, fortune ! ev'ry good pertains 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/* '300 Wouldst thou build lasting happiness ? Do this ; Th' inverted pyramid can never stand. Is this truth doubtful ? it outshines the sun ; Nay, the sun shines not, but to shew us this, The single lesson of Mankind on earth. J 35 And yet yet, what ? no news ! Mankind is mad ; Such mighty numbers list against the right, (And what can't numbers, when bewitch'd, atchieve ?) They talk themselves to something like belief, That all earth's joys are theirs: As Athens' fool 1310 Grinn'd from the port, on ev'ry 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 : VIRTI/E'S APOLOGY. 249 > Then, for themselves, the moment Reason wakes (And Providence denies it long repose), O 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 shew us what their joy, by their despair. 1325 The clotted hair ! gor'd breast ! blaspheming eye ! Its impious fury still alive in death ! Shut, shut the shocking scene. But Heav'n denies A cover to such guilt ; and so should Man. Look round, LORENZO! see the reeking blade, 1330 Th' invenom'd phial, and the fatal ball ; The strangling cord, and suffocating stream j The loathsome rottenness, and foul decays From raging riot, (slower suicides !) And pride in these, more execrable still ! * '335 How horrid all to thought ! But horrors, these, That vouch the truth j and aid my feeble song. From Vice, Sense, Fancy, no man can be blest ; Bliss is too great, to lodge within an hour : When an immortal being aims at bliss, 1340 Duration is essential to the name. O for a joy from Reason ! joy from that, Which makes Man Man ; and, exercis'd aright, Will make him more : A bounteous joy ! that gives, And promises ; that weaves, with art divine, 1 345 The richest prospect into present peace : A joy ambitious ! joy in common held With thrones ethereal, and their greater far : K K 25 THE COMPLAINT. A joy high-privileg'd from chance, time, death ! A joy, which death shall double ! judgment crown ! Crown'd higher, and still higher, at each stage, 1351 Through blest 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, O my LUCIA ! may I meet thee there, Where not thy presence can improve my bliss ! Affects not this the sages of the world ? Can nought affect them, but what fools them too ? 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 Heav'n : Sole point ! where over-bashful is your blame. Are you not wise? You know you are: Yet hear 1365 One truth, amid your num'rous 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 fool." All worthy men will weigh you in this scale ; 1370 What wonder, then, if they pronounce you light ? Is their esteem alone not worth your care ? 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 j 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. 1 380 VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 251 Haste, haste ! a Man, by nature, is in haste j 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 ventur'd into light ; well-pleas'd the verse Should be forgot, if you the truths retain; J 39 And crown her with your welfare, not your praise. But praise she need not fear : I see my fate ; And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulph. Since many an ample volume, mighty tome, Must die ; and die unwept ; O thou minute, 1395 Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth, And die a double death : Mankind, incens'd, Denies thee long to live : Nor shalt thou rest, When thou art dead j in Stygian shades arraigned 1400 By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne : And bold blasphemer of his friend the World ; The World, whose legions cost him slender pay, And volunteers around his banner swarm ; Prudent, as Prussia, in her zeal for Gaul. 1405 " Are all, then, fools r" LORENZO cries. Yes, all, But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee) ; " The mother of true wisdom is the willj" The noblest intellect, a fool without it. World- wisdom much has done, and more may do, 1410 K K 2 2,52 THE CQMPLAWT. 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." Nor think this censure is severe on thee j 1416 Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. NIGHT THE NINTH. THE CONSOLATION. CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, I. A MORAL SURVEY OF THE NOCTURNAL HEA- VENS. II. A NIGHT-ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. -Fall's contraria fata rependens. YIRO. As when a traveller, a long day past 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, And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, Till the due season calls him to repose; 254 THE CONSOLATION. 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 ; i o Warn'd by the languor of Life's ev'ning ray, At length have hous'd me in an humble shed ; Where, future wandering banish'd from my thought, And waiting, patient, the sweet hour of rest j I chase the moments with a serious song. 15- Song sooths our pains ; and age has pains to sooth. 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 th' ethereal fire ; Canst thou, O Night ! indulge one labour more ? 20 One labour more indulge ! Then sleep, my strain ! Till, haply, wak'd by Raphael's golden lyre, Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow, cease; To bear a part in everlasting lays j Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 2 Symphonious to this humble prelude here. Has not the muse asserted pleasures pure, Like those above ; exploding other joys ? Weigh what was urg'd, LORENZO! fairly weigh ; And tell me, hast thou cause to triumph still ? 30 J 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 diseas'd, is half our cure. When Nature's blush by custom is wip'd off, THE CONSOLATION. 255 And conscience, deaden' d by repeated strokes, 40 Has into manners naturaliz'd out crimes ; The curse of -curses is> our curse to love ; Te triumph in the blackness of our guilt (As Indians glory in the deepest jet) ; And throw aside oar senses with our peace. 45 But, grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy ; Orant joy and glory, quite unsully'd, shone i 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 1 see its sables wove by Destiny ; And that in sorrow buryM ; this in shame ; While howling furies ring the doleful knell ; And Conscience, now so stjft 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 prociaim'd A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 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 canvas, or the featur'd stone ? 70 Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene. THE CONSOLATION. Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. " Profest diversions ! cannot these escape ?" Far from it : These present us with a shroud ; And talk of Death, like garlands o'er a grave. 75 As some bold plunderers, for bury'd wealth, We ransack tombs for pastime j from the dust Call up the sleeping hero j bid him tread The scene for our amusement : How like gods We sit ; and, wrapt in immortality, 80 Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die j Their fate deploring, to forget our own ! What, all the pomps and triumphs of our lives, But legacies in blossom ? Our lean soil, 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 ? 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 bury'd 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 j Each element partakes our scatter'd spoils j THE CONSOLATION. 257 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 j empires die : Where, now, The Reman ? Greek ? They stalk, an empty name ! Yet few regard them in this useful light ; Though half our learning is their epitaph. no 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 withered laurels glide before my sight ! 115 What lengths of far-fam'd ages, billow'd high With human agitation, roll along In unsubstantial images of air ! The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whisp'ring 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. But, O 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 1 see the mighty shadow : Oozy wreath And dismal sea-weed crown her ; o'er her urn Reclin'd, 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 loth to know, 1 35 L L 258 THE CONSOLATION. The great decree, the counsel of the skies ? Deluge and Conflagration, dreadful pow'rs ! 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 devoured. But not for this, ordain'd their boundless rage : When Heav'n'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 th' eternal throne, With irresistible commission arm'd, The world, in vain corrected, to destroy, 150 And ease creation of the shocking scene. Seest 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 destin'd hour, By the loud trumpet summoned to the charge, See, all the formidable sons of fire, Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play 160 Their various engines j 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 165 Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd j Stars rush j and final Ruin fiercely drives THE CONSOLATION. 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, O how unlike The Babe at Bethle'm ! how unlike the Man That groan'd on Calvary ! Yet HE it is ; 175 That Man of Sorrows ! O how chang'd ! What pomp ! In grandeur terrible, all heav'n descends ! And gods, ambitious, triumph in his train. A swift archangel, with his golden wing, As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace 180 The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. And now, all dross remov'd, heav'ri's own pure day, Full on the confines of our aether, 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, LORENZO, 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 wrapt in peace, And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams), To give more dread to Man's most dreadful hour, L L 2 THE CONSOLATION. At midnight, J t is presum'd, 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 f 205 Terror and glory join'd in their extremes I Our GOD in grandeur, and our world on fire f All Nature struggling in the pangs of death ! Dost thou not hear her ? Dost thou not deplore Her strong convulsions, and her final groan ? 210 Where are we now ? Ah me ! the ground is gone, On which we stood, LORENZO ! While thou may'st, Provide more firm support, or sink for ever ! Where ? how ? 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 heav'n. At thought of thee ! And art thou absent then ? 225 LORENZO ! no ; *t is here ; it is begun j Already is begun the grand assize, In thee, in all : Deputed conscience scales The dread tribunal, and forestals our doom ; Forestals ; and, by forestalling, proves it sure. 230 Why on himself should Man void judgment pass ? THE CONSOLATION. 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 Heav'n opens in their bosom : But, how rare I 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 Resolv'd 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 j Asks, " What is truth ?" with Pilate ; and retires ; Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng ; 246 Asylum sad ! from Reason, Hope, and Heav'n ! Shall all, but Man, look out with ardent eye, For that great day, which was ordain' d for Man ? O 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 dis-involve 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 ? 262 THE CONSOLATION. I 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 inthron'd ! the flaming guard ! The volume open'd ! open'd every heart ! A sun-beam 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 ! Nor Man alone ; the foe of GOD and Man, 275 From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd j Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace ; Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll 280 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 j 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 elaps'd, or unarriv'd!) As in debate, how best their pow'rs ally'd 295 THE CONSOLATION. 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 ! Rous'd at one call, upstarting from one bed, Prest in one crowd, appall'd with one amaze, 305 He turns them o'er, Eternity ! to thee. Then (as a king depos'd 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 ! With kind intent, soliciting access, How often has she knock'd at human hearts ! 315 Rich 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 For, 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 pow'rs, Of light, of darkness \ in a iniddle field, 264 THE CONSOLATION. Wide as creation ! populous as wide ! A neutral region ! there to mark th' event Of that great drama, whose preceding scenes 330 Detain'd them close spectators, through a length Of ages, rip'ning to this grand result j 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 heav'n of heav'n. 340 The goddess, with determined aspect, turns Her adamantine key's enormous size Through destiny's inextricable wards, Deep-driving ev'ry bolt, on both their fates. Then, from the crystal battlements of heav'n, 345 Down, down, she hurls it through the dark profound, Ten thousand thousand fathom ; there to rust, And ne'er unlock her resolution more. The deep resounds, and hell, through all her glooms, Returns, in groans, the melancholy roar. 350 O how unlike the chorus of the skies ! O how unlike those shouts of joy, that shake The whole ethereal ! How the concave rings ! Nor strange ! when deities their voice exalt j And louder far, than when creation rose, 355 To see creation's godlike aim, and end, So well accompllsh'd ! so divinely clos'd ! To see the mighty Dramatist's last act (As meet) in glory rising o'er the rest. THE CONSOLATION. 2% No fancy'd 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 I ? Amidst applauding worlds, And worlds celestial, is there found on earth, A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains ? 370 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 ? And have I been complaining, then, so long ? 375 Complaining of his favours ; pain and death ? Who, without Pain's advice, would e'er be good ? Who, without Death, but would be good in vain ? Pain is to save from pain ; all punishment, To make for peace; and Death, to save from death j 380 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, That planted Eden, and high-bloom'd for Man, 385 A fairer Eden, endless in the skies. Heav'n gives us friends to bless the present scene j Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. All evils natural are moral goods ; All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 390 M M THE CONSOLATION. 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 aft, or judgment, is the source Of endless sighs : We sin, or we mistake, 395 And Nature tax, when false Opinion stings. Let impious grief be banish'd, joy indulg'd, But chiefly then, when grief puts in her claim. Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays, Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe. 400 Joy, amidst ills, corroborates, exalts ; J T is joy, and conquest ; joy, and virtue too. A noble fortitude in ills delights Heav'n, earth, ourselves ; J t is duty, glory, peace. Affliction is the good man's shining scene ; 405 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. The crown of manhood is a winter-joy ; 410 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 imhappiness muft prove our lot ; A part which few possess ! I '11 pay life's tax, 415 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. What spoke proud Passion? "Wish my being lost!" Presumptuous! blasphemous! absurd! and false! 421 The triumph of my soul is That I am ; THE CONSOLATION. 267 And therefore that I may be What ? LORENZO! Look inward, and look deep ; and deeper still ; Unfathomably deep our treasure runs 425 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, Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, 430' And fly through infinite, and all unlock ; And (if deserv'd) by Heav'n's redundant love, Made half-adorable itself, adore ; And find, in adoration, endless joy ! Where thou, not master of a moment here, 435 Frail as the flow'r, and fleeting as the gale, May'st boast a whole eternity, enrich'd With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. Since Adam fell, no mortal, uninspired, Has ever yet conceiv'd, or ever shall, 440 How kind is GOD, how great (if good) is Man. No Man too largely from Heav'n's love can hope, If what is hop'd he labours to secure. Ills? There are none: All-Gracious! none from thee; From Man full many ! Numerous is the race 445 Of blacked ills, and those immortal too, Begot by Madness on fair Liberty ; Heav'n's daughter, hell-debauch'd ! her hand alone Unlocks destruction to the sons of men, Fast barr'd by thine ; high-wall'd with adamant, 4 50 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 ; M M 2 268 THE CONSOLATION. Whose sanctions, unavoidable results 455 From Nature's course, indulgently reveal'd ; If unreveal'd, more dang'rous, nor less sure. Thus, an indulgent father warns his sons, " Do this ; fly that" nor always tells the cause ; Pleas'd to reward, as duty to his will, 460 A conduct needful to their own repose. Great GOD of wonders ! (if, thy love surveyed, Aught else the name of wonderful retains,) What rocks are these, on which to build our trust ! Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I find ; 465 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, murm'ring, from the dust, Dares into judgment call her Judge. SUPREME! 470 For all I bless thee ; moft, for the severe j Her death my own at hand the fiery gulph, That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent ! It thunders ; but it thunders to preserve ; It strengthens what it strikes ; its wholesome dread 475 Averts the dreaded pain ; its hideous groans Join Heav'n's sweet hallelujahs in thy praise, Great Source of good alone ! How kind in all ! In vengeance kind ! Pain, Death, Gehenna, save. Thus, in thy world material, mighty Mind ! 480 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 Of vapours breeds a pestilential air : 485 Nor more propitious the Favonian breeze THE CONSOLATION. 269 To Nature's health, than purifying storms. The dread volcano ministers to good ; Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. Loud ^Etnas fulminate in love to Man ; 490 Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd j And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. Man is responsible for ills received ; Those we call wretched are a chosen band, Compell'd to refuge in the right, for peace. 495 Amid my list of blessings infinite, Stand this the foremost, " That my heart has bled." 'T is Heav'n's last effort of good-will to Man ; When Pain can't bless, Heav'n quits us in despair. Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, 500 Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest ; Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart : Reason absolves the grief, which Reason ends. May Heav'n ne'er trust my friend with happiness, Till it has taught him how to bear it well, 505 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 j The CONSOLATION cancels the COMPLAINT, 510 And makes a convert of my guilty song. As when o'er-labour'd, and inclin'd to breathe, A panting traveller, some rising ground, Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round, And measures with his eye the various vale, rj ? The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has past ; And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, Endear'd by distance, nor affects more toil ; 27 THE CONSOLATION. Thus 1, though small, indeed, is that ascent The muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod ; 520 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. Through many a field of moral, and divine, 525 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 deceas'd full heartily she wept ; Of love divine the wonders she display'd ; 530 Prov'd Man immortal ; shew'd the source of joy ; The grand tribunal rais'd ; assign'd the bounds Of human grief: In few, to close the whole, The moral muse has shadow'd out a sketch, Though not in form, nor with a Raphael-stroke, 535 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 ? Much ! much ! a mighty debt To be discharg'd: These thoughts, O Night! are thine ; From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs, 541 While others slept. So, Cynthia (poets feign), In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her sphere, Her shepherd cheer'd j of her enamour'd less, Than I of thee. And art thou still unsung, 545 Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing ? Immortal Silence ! Where shall I begin ? Where end ? or how steal music from the spheres, To sooth their goddess ? O majestic Night ! THE CONSOLATION. 371 Nature's great ancestor ! Day's elder-born ! 550 And fated to survive the transient sun ! By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe ! A starry crown thy raven brow adorns, An azure zone, thy waist ; clouds, in Heav'n's loom. Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, 555 In ample folds of drapery divine, Thy flowing mantle form ; and, Heav'n throughout, Voluminously pour thy pompous train. Thy gloomy grandeurs (Nature's most august, Inspiring aspect !) claim a grateful verse ; 560 And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. And what, O Man ! so worthy to be sung ? What more prepares us for the songs of Heav'n ? Creation of archangels is the theme ! 565 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, Who gave these wonders to be seen by Man, Has here a previous scene of objects great, 573 On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse Of thought, to rise to that exalted height Of admiration, to contract that awe, And give her whole capacities that strength, Which best may qualify for final joy. 575 The more our spirits are enlarg'd on earth, The deeper draught shall they receive of Heav'n. Heav'n's KING ! whose face unveil'd consummates bliss ; Redundant bliss ! which fills that mighty void, The whole creation leaves in human hearts ! 580 272 THE CONSOLATION'. THOU, who didst touch the lip of Jesse's son, Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires, And set his harp in concert with the spheres ! "While of thy works material the supreme I dare attempt, assist my daring song. 585 Loose me from earth's inclosure, from the sun's Contracted circle set my heart at large ; Eliminate my spirit, give it range Through provinces of thought yet unexplor'd ; Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding, 590 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. Feel I thy kind assent ? And shall the sun Be seen at midnight, rising in my song ? 595 LORENZO! come, and warm thee: Thou whose heart, Whose little heart, is moor'd within a nook Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh. Another ocean calls, a nobler port ; I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 600 Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main ; Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; And whence thou may'st import eternal wealth ; And leave to beggar'd minds the pearl and gold. Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms j 605 Thou stranger to the world ! thy tour begin j Thy tour through Nature's universal orb. Nature delineates her whole chart at large, On soaring souls, that sail among the spheres ; And Man how purblind, if unknown the whole! 6to Who circles spacious Earth, then travels here, Shall own, he never was from home before ! THE CONSOLATION. 273 Come, my Prometheus, from thy pointed rock Of false ambition, if unchain'd, we '11 mount j We'll innocently steal celestial fire, 615 And kindle our devotion at the stars ; A theft, that shall not chain, but set thee free. Above our atmosphere's intestine wars, Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of hail j Above the northern nests of feather'd snows, 620 The brew of thunders, and the flaming forge That forms the crooked lightning ; 'bove the caves Where infant tempests wait their growing wings, And tune their tender voices to that roar, Which soon, perhaps, shall shake a guilty world; 625 Above misconstru'd omens of the sky, Far-travell'd comets' calculated blaze, Elance thy thought, and think of more than Man. Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither'd, shrunk, Blighted by blasts of Earth's unwholesome air, 630 Will blossom here ; spread all her faculties To these bright ardours ; ev'ry pow'r unfold, And rise into sublimities of thought. Stars teach, as well as shine. At Nature's birth, Thus, their commission ran " Be kind to Man." 635 Where art thou, poor benighted traveller ! The stars will light thee; though the moon should fail. Where art thou, more benighted ! more astray ! In ways immoral ? The stars call thee back ; And, if obey'd their counsel, set thee right. 640 This prospect vast, what is it? Weigh'd aright, *T is Nature's system of divinity, And ev'ry student of the night inspires. 'T is elder scripture, writ by GOD'S own hand ; N N THE CONSOLATION. Scripture authentic, uncorrupt by Man. 645 LORENZO ! with my radius (the rich gift Of thought nocturnal !) I'll point out to thee Its various lessons ; some that may surprise An un-adept in mysteries of Night ; Little, perhaps, expected in her school, 650 Nor thought to grow on planet, or on star. Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters here we feign ; Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here Exists indeed ; a lecture to mankind. What read we here? Th* existence of a GOD ? 655 Yes ; and of other beings, Man above j Natives of aether ! sons of higher climes ! And, what may move LORENZO'S wonder more, Eternity is written in the skies. And whose eternity ? LORENZO ! thine ; 660 Mankind's eternity. Nor Faith alone, Virtue grows here ; here springs the sov'reign cure Of almost ev'ry vice ; but chiefly thine ; Wrath, pride, ambition, and impure desire. LORENZO! thou canst wake at midnight too, 665 Though not on morals bent : Ambition, Pleasure ! Those tyrants I for thee so lately fought, Afford their harass'd slaves but slender rest. Thou, to whom midnight is immoral noon, And the sun's noon-tide blaze, prime dawn of day ; Not by thy climate, but capricious crime, 671 Commencing one of our antipodes ! In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, *T wixt stage and stage, of riot, and cabal j And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift, 675 If bold to meet the face of injur'd Heav'n) THE CONSOLATION". 275 -To yonder stars : For other ends they shine, Than to light revellers from shame to shame, And, thus, be made accomplices in guilt. Why from yon arch, that infinite of space, 680 With infinite of lucid orbs replete, Which set the living firmament on fire, At the first glance, in such an overwhelm Of wonderful, on Man's astonish'd sight, Rushes Omnipotence ? To curb our pride ; 685 Our reason rouse, and lead it to that Pow'r, Whose love lets down these silver chains of light ; To draw up Man's ambition to Himself, And bind our chaste affections to his throne. Thus the three virtues, least alive on earth, 690 And welcom'd on Heav'n's coast with most applause, An humble, pure, and heav'nly-minded heart, Are here inspir'd : And canst thou gaze too long ? Nor stands thy wrath depriv'd of its reproof, Or un-upbraided by this radiant choir. 695 The planets of each system represent Kind neighbours ; mutual amity prevails ; Sweet interchange of rays, received, return'd ; Enlight'ning, and enlight'ned ! all, at once, Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 700 None sins against the welfare of the whole ; But their reciprocal, unselfish aid, Affords an emblem of millenial love. Nothing in nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself: 705 Thus Man his sov'reign duty learns in this Material picture of benevolence. And know, of all our supercilious race, N N 2 276 THE CONSOLATION. Thou most inflammable ; thou wasp of men ! Man's angry heart, inspected, would be found 710 As rightly set, as are the starry spheres ; *T is Nature's structure, broke by stubborn will, Breeds all that un-celestial discord there. Wilt thou not feel the bias Nature gave ? Canst thou descend from converse with the skies, 715 And seize thy brother's throat ? For what ? a clod? An inch of earth ? The planets cry, " Forbear." They chase our double darkness ; Nature's gloom, And (kinder still \) our intellectual night. And see, Day's amiable sister sends 720 Her invitation, in the softest rays Of mitigated luftre j courts thy sight, Which suffers from her tyrant-brother's blaze. Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies, Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 725 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, And deep reception, in th* intender'd heart j While light peeps through the darkness like a spy : 730 And darkness shews its grandeur by the light. Nor is the profit greater than the joy, If human hearts at glorious objects glow, And admiration can inspire delight. What speak I more, than I, this moment, feel ! 735 With pleasing stupor first the soul it struck : (Stupor ordain'd to make her truly wise !) Then into transport starting from her trance, With love and admiration how she glows ! This gorgeous apparatus ! this display 1 740 THE CONSOLATION. 277 This ostentation of creative pow'r ! This theatre ! what eye can take it in ? By what divine enchantment was it rais'd, For minds of the firft magnitude to launch In endless speculation, and adore ? 745 One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine j And light us deep into the DEITY ; How boundless in magnificence and might ! O what a confluence of ethereal fires, From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of Heav'n, Streams to a point, and centres in my sight! 751 Nor tarries there j I feel it at my heart. My heart, at once, it humbles and exalts ; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. Who sees it unexalted ? or unaw'd ? 755 Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen ? Material offspring of Omnipotence ! Inanimate, all-animating birth ! Work worthy Him who made it ! worthy praise ! All praise ! praise more than human ! nor deny'd 760 Thy praise divine! But though Man, drown'd in sleep, With-holds his homage, not alone I wake ; Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard By mortal ear, the glorious Architect, In this his universal temple hung 765 With lustres, with innumerable lights, That shed religion on the soul ; at once, The temple, and the preacher ! O how loud It calls devotion ! genuine growth of Night ! Devotion ! daughter of Astronomy ! 770 An uridevout astronomer is mad. True j all things speak a GOD ; but in the small, 278 THE CONSOLATION. Men trace out Him ; in great, he seizes Man ; Seizes, and elevates, and raps, and fills With new inquiries, 'mid associates new. 775 Tell me, ye stars ! ye planets ! tell me, all Ye starr'd, and planeted, inhabitants ! what is it ? What are these sons of wonder ! say, proud arch ! (Within whose azure palaces they dwell) Built with divine ambition! in disdain 780 Of limit built ! built in the taste of Heav'n ! Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou design'd A meet apartment for the DEITY ? Not so ; that thought alone thy state impairs, Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound, 785 And streightens thy diffusive ; dwarfs the whole, And makes an universe an orrery. But when I drop mine eye, and look on Man, Thy right regain'd, thy grandeur is restor'd, O Nature ! wide flies off th' expanding round. 790 As when whole magazines, at once, are fir'd, The smitten air is hollow'd by the blow ; The vast displosion dissipates the clouds ; Shock' d aether's billows dash the distant skies ; Thus (but far more) th' expanding round flies off, 795 And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb, Might teem with new creation ; re-inflam'd Thy luminaries triumph, and assume Divinity themselves. Nor was it strange, Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp, 800 Such godlike glory, stole the style of gods, From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense 5 For, sure, to sense, they truly are divine, And half-absolv'd idolatry from guilt j THE CONSOLATION. 2 79 Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 805 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 What was their highest, must be their ador'd. But they how weak, who could no higher mount ! And are there, then, LORENZO ! those to whom 8 1 1 Unseen, and unexistent, are the same ? And if incomprehensible is join'd, Who dare pronounce it madness, to believe ? Why has the mighty Builder thrown aside 815 All measure in his work ; stretch'd out his line So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole ? Then (as he took delight in wide extremes), Deep in the bosom of his universe, Dropt down that reas'ning mite, that insect, Man, 820 To crawl, and gaze, and wonder at the scene ? That Man might ne'er presume to plead amazement For disbelief of wonders in himself. Shall GOD be less miraculous, than what His hand has form'd ? Shall mysteries descend 825 From un-mysterious ? Things more elevate, Be more familiar ? Uncreated lie More obvious than created, to the grasp Of human thought ? The more of wonderful Is heard in Him, the more we should assent. 830 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 ; Man's distance how immense ! on such a theme, Know this, LORENZO ! (seem it ne'er so strange,) 835 Nothing can satisfy, but what confounds j 280 THE CONSOLATION. Nothing, but what astonishes, is true. The scene thou seest, attests the truth I sing, And every star sheds light upon thy creed. These stars, this furniture, this cost of Heav'n, 840 If but reported, thou hadst ne'er believ'd ; But thine eye tells thee, the romance is true. The grand of nature is th' Almighty's oath, In Reason's court, to silence Unbelief. How my mind, opening at this scene, imbibes 845 The moral emanations of the skies, While nought, perhaps, LORENZO less admires ! Has the great Sov'reign sent ten thousand worlds To tell us, He resides above them all, In glory's unapproachable recess ? 850 And dare Earth's bold inhabitants deny The sumptuous, the magnific embassy A moment's audience ? Turn we, nor will hear From whom they come, or what they would impart For Man's emolument ; sole cause that stoops 855 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. Who sees, but is confounded, or convinc'd ? Renounces Reason, or a God adores ? 860 Mankind was sent into the world to see : Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; That obvious science asks small learning's aid. Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar ? Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns ? 865 Or travel history's enormous round ? Nature no such hard task injoins : She gave A make to Man directive of his thought j THE CONSOLATION. 281 A make set upright, pointing to the stars, As who should say, " Read thy chief lesson there." 870 Too late to read this manuscript of Heav'n, When, like a parchment-scroll, shrunk up by flames* It folds LORENZO'S lesson from his sight. Lesson how various ! Not the God alone, I see his ministers ; I see, diffused i~ 875 In radiant orders, essences sublime, Of various offices, of various plume, In heav'nly liveries distinctly clad, Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold, Or all commix'd ; they stand, with wings outspread, List'ning to catch the Master's least command, 88 1 And fly through Nature, ere the moment ends ; Numbers innumerable ! well conceived By Pagan, and by Christian ! O'er each sphere Presides an angel, to direct its course, 885 And feed, or fan, its flames ; or to discharge Other high trusts unknown. For who can see Such pomp of matter, and imagine, mind, For which alone inanimate was made, More sparingly dispens'd ? That nobler son, 890 Far liker the great SIRE ! 'Tis thus the skies Inform us of superiors numberless, As much, in excellence, above mankind, As above earth, in magnitude, the spheres. These, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us j 895 In a throng'd theatre are all our deeds ; Perhaps, a thousand demigods descend On ev'ry beam we see, to walk with men. Awful reflection ! strong restraint from ill ! Yet, here, our virtue finds still stronger aid 900 o o 282 THE CONSOLATION. From these ethereal glories sense surveys. Something, like magic, strikes from this blue vault; With just attention is it view'd ? We feel A sudden succour, unimplor'd, unthought ; Nature herself does half the work of Man. 905 Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks, The promontory's height, the depth profound Of subterranean, excavated grots, 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, 911 Ev'n these an aggrandizing impulse give ; Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights Ev'n these infuse. But what of vast in these ? Nothing; or we must own the skies forgot. 915 Much less in Art. Vain Art ! thou pigmy pow'r ! How dost thou swell, and strut, with human pride, To shew thy littleness ! What childish toys, Thy watry columns squirted to the clouds ! Thy bason'd rivers, and imprison'd seas ! 920 Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ! Thy hundred-gated capitals ! or those Where three days travel left us much to ride; Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought, Arches triumphal, theatres immense, 925 Or nodding gardens pendent in mid-air ! Or temples proud to meet their gods half-way ! Yet these affect us in no common kind. What then the force of such superior scenes ? Enter a temple, it will strike an awe : 930 What awe from this the DEITY has built ? A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives : ; . _ ' ' THE CONSOLATION. 283 The touch'd spectator wishes to be wise : In a bright mirror his own hands have made, Here we see something like the face of GOD. 935 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 By daring Man, he makes her sacred awe (That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 940 To more than common guilt, and quite inverts Celestial Art's intent. The trembling stars See crimes gigantic, stalking through the gloom With front erect, that hide their head by day, And making night still darker by their deeds. 945 Slumb'ring in covert, till the shades descend, Rapine and Murder, link'd, now prowl for prey. The miser earths his treasure ; and the thief, Watching the mole, half-beggars him ere morn. Now plots, and foul conspiracies, awake ; 950 And, muffling up their horrors from the moon, Havoc and devastation they prepare, And kingdoms tott'ring in the field of blood. Now sons of riot in mid-revel rage. What shall I do ? suppress it ? or proclaim ? 955 Why sleeps the thunder ? Now, LORENZO! now, His best friend's couch the rank adulterer Ascends secure ; and laughs at gods and men, Prepost'rous madmen, void of fear or shame, Lay their crimes bare to these chaste eyes of heav'n ; Yet shrink and shudder at a mortal's sight. 961 Were moon, and stars, for villains only made ? To guide, yet screen them, with tenebrious light ? No j they were made to fashion the sublime 002 284, THE CONSOLATION. Of human hearts, and wiser make the wise. 965 Those ends were answer'd once ; when mortals liv'd Of stronger wing, of aquiline ascent In theory sublime. O how unlike Those vermin of the night, this moment sung, "Who crawl on earth, and on her venom feed! 970 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. The Stagirite, and Plato, he who drank The poison'd bowl, and he of Tusculum, 975 With him of Corduba, (immortal names !) Jn these unbounded, and Elysian, walks, An area fit for gods, and godlike men, They took their nightly round, through radiant paths By seraphs trod ; instructed, chiefly, thus, 980 To tread in their bright footsteps here below ; To walk in worth still brighter than the skies. There, they contracted their contempt of Earth ; Of hopes eternal kindled, there, the fire ; There, as in near approach, they glow'd, and grew (Great visitants !) more intimate with GOD, 986 More worth to men, more joyous to themselves. Through various virtues, they, with ardour, ran The zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. In Christian hearts, O for a Pagan zeal ! 990 A needful, but opprobrious pray'r ! As much Our ardour less, as greater is our light. How monstrous this in morals ! Scarce more strange Would this phenomenon in nature strike, A sun that froze us, or a star that warm'd. 995 What taught these heroes of the moral world ? THE CONSOLATION. 285 To these thou giv'st thy praise, give credit too ; These doctors ne'er were pension'd to deceive thee j And Pagan tutors are thy taste. They taught, That, narrow views betray to misery: 1000 That, wise it is to comprehend the whole : That, Virtue rose from Nature, ponder'd well, The single base of Virtue built to Heav'n : That, GOD, and Nature, our attention claim : That, Nature is the glass reflecting GOD, 1005 As, by the sea, reflected is the sun, Too glorious to be gaz'd on in his sphere : That, mind immortal loves immortal aims : That, boundless mind affects a boundless space : That, vast surveys, and the sublime of things, 1010 The soul assimilate, and make her great : That, therefore, Heav'n her glories, as a fund Of inspiration, thus spreads out to Man. Such are their doctrines ; such the night inspired. And what more true ? What truth of greater weight ? The soul of Man was made to walk the skies ; 1016 Delightful outlet of her prison here ! There, disincumber'd from her chains, the ties Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; There, freely can respire, dilate, extend, 1020 In full proportion let loose all her pow'rs ; And, undeluded, grasp at something great. Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there ; But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays ; Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own j 1025 Dives deep in their economy divine, Sits high in judgment on their various laws, And, like a master, judges not amiss. 286 THE CONSOLATION. Hence greatly pleas'd, and justly proud, the soul Grows conscious of her birth celestial j breathes 1030 More life, more vigour, in her native air ; And feels herself at home among the stars ; And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. What call we, then, the firmament, LORENZO ? As earth the body, since, the skies sustain 1035 The soul with food, that gives immortal life, Call it, the noble pasture of the mind ; Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, And riots through the luxuries of thought. Call it, the garden of the DEITY, 1040 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, Ardent with gems oracular, that give, In points of highest moment, right response j 1045 And ill neglected, if we prize our peace. Thus have we found a true astrology ; Thus have we found a new and noble sense, In which alone stars govern human fates. O that the stars (as some have feign'd) let fall 1050 Bloodshed, and havoc, on embattled realms, And rescu'd monarchs from so black a guilt ! Bourbon ! this wish how gen'rous in a foe ! Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god, And stick thy deathless name among the stars, 1055 For mighty conquests on a needle's point ? Instead of forging chains for foreigners, Bastile thy tutor : Grandeur all thy aim ? As yet thou know'st not what it is : How great, How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, 1060 THE CONSOLATION. 287 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 ; Those still more godlike, as these more divine. 1064 And more divine than these, thou canst not see. Dazzled, o'erpower'd, with the delicious draught Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel From thought to thought, inebriate, without end ! An Eden this ! a Paradise unlost ! I meet the DEITY in ev'ry view, 1070 And tremble at my nakedness before him ! O that I could but reach the tree of life ! For here it grows, unguarded from our taste : No flaming sword denies our entrance here ; Would man but gather, he might live for ever. 1075 LORENZO ! much of moral hast thou seen. Of curious arts art thou more fond ? Then mark The mathematic glories of the skies, In number, weight, and measure, all ordain'd. LORENZO'S boasted builders, Chance, and Fate, 1080 Are left to finish his aerial tow'rs ; Wisdom, and Choice, their well-known characters Here deep impress ; and claim it for their own. Though splendid all, no splendour void of use ; Use rivals Beauty: Art contends with Pow'r j 1085 No wanton waste, amid effuse expense j The great ECONOMIST adjusting all To prudent pomp, magnificently wise. How rich the prospect ! and for ever new ! And newest to the man that views it most j 1090 For newer still in infinite succeeds. Then, these aerial racers, O how swift ! 288 THE CONSOLATION. How the shaft loiters from the strongest string ! Spirit alone can distance the career. Orb above orb ascending without end! IO 95 Circle in circle, without end, inclos'd ! Wheel within wheel ; Ezekiel ! like to thine ! Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream ; Though seen, we labour to believe it true ! What involution! what extent ! what swarms noo Of worlds, that laugh at Earth ! immensely great ! Immensely distant from each others' spheres ! What then, the wondrous space thro* which they roll ? At once it quite ingulphs all human thought j 'Tis Comprehension's absolute defeat. 1 105 Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here 5 Through this illustrious chaos to the sight, Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. The path prescribed, inviolably kept, Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind. 1 1 10 Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere ; What knots are ty'd ! how soon are they dissolv'd, And set the seeming married planets free ! They rove for ever, without error rove ; Confusion unconfus'd : Nor less admire 1115 This tumult untumultuous ; all on wing ! In motion, all ! yet what profound repose ! What fervid action, yet no noise ! as aw'd 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 cserulean plain, In exultation to their GOD, and thine, They dance, they sing eternal jubilee. THE CONSOLATION. 289 Eternal celebration of His praise. 1 125 But, since their song arrives not at our ear, Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight Fair hieroglyphic of His peerless pow'r. Mark, how the labyrinthian turns they take, The circles intricate, and mystic maze, 1 130 Weave the grand cipher of Omnipotence ; To gods, how great ! how legible to Man ! Leaves so much wonder greater wonder still ? Where are the pillars that support the skies ? What more than Atlantean shoulder props 1 135 Th J incumbent load ? What magic, what strange art, In fluid air these pond'rous orbs sustains ? Who would not think them hung in golden chains ? And so they are ; in the high will of Heav'n, Which fixes all ; makes adamant of air, 1149 Or air of adamant ; makes all of nought, Or nought of all ; if such the dread decree. Imagine from their deep foundations torn The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad And tow'ring Alps, all tost into the sea j 1145 And, light as down, or volatile as air, Their bulks enormous dancing on the waves, In time, and measure, exquisite ; while all The winds, in emulation of the spheres, Tune their sonorous instruments aloft ; 1 150 The concert swell, and animate the ball. Would this appear amazing ? What, then, worlds, In a far thinner element sustain'd, And acting the same part, with greater skill, More rapid movement, and for noblest ends ? 1155 More obvious ends to pass, are not these stars p P 290 THE CONSOLATION. The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones, On which angelic delegates of Heav'n, At certain periods, as the Sov'reign nods, Discharge high trusts of vengeance, or of love ; 1 160 To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design, And acts most solemn still moer solemnize ? Ye citizens of air ! what ardent thanks, What full effusion of the grateful heart, Is due from Man indulg'd in such a sight ! 1 1 65 A sight so noble ! and a sight so kind ! It drops new truths at ev'ry new survey ! Feels not LORENZO something stir within, That sweeps away all period ? As these spheres Measure duration, they no less inspire 1170 The godlike hope of ages without end. The boundless space, through which these rovers take Their restless roam, suggests the sister-thought Of boundless time. Thus, by kind Nature's skill, To Man unlabour'd, that important guest, 11 75 Eternity, finds entrance at the sight : And an eternity for Man ordain'd, Or these his destin'd midnight counsellors, The stars, had never whisper'd it to Man. Nature informs, but ne'er insults, her sons. 1 1 80 Could she then kincile the most ardent wish To disappoint it? That is blasphemy. Thus, of thy creed a second article, Momentous, as th' existence of a GOD, Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought ; 1185 And thou may'st read thy soul immortal, here. Here, then, LORENZO! on these glories dwell 5 Nor want the gilt, illuminated roof, THE CONSOLATION. That calls the wretched gay to dark delights. Assemblies ? This is one divinely bright j 1190 Here, unendanger'd in health, wealth, or fame, Range through the fairest, and the sultan scorn. He, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair, As that, which on his turbant awes a world ; And thinks the moon is proud to copy him. 1 195 Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give, A mind superior to the charms of pow'r. Thou muffled in delusions of this life ! Can yonder moon turn Ocean in his bed, From side to side, in constant ebb and flow, 1 200 And purify from stench his watry realms ? And fails her moral influence ? Wants she pow'r To turn LORENZO'S stubborn tide of thought From stagnating on Earth's infected shore, And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart ? 1 205 Fails her attraction when it draws to Heav'n ? Nay, and to what thou valu'st more, Earth's joy ? Minds elevate, and panting for unseen, And defecate from sense, alone obtain Full relish of existence undeflower'd, 1210 The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss. All else on earth amounts to what ? To this : " Bad to be suffered ; blessings to be left :" Earth's richest inventory boasts no more. Of higher scenes be, then, the call obey'd. 1215 O let me gaze ! Of gazing there 's no end. O let me think ! Thought too is wilder'd here ; In mid-way flight imagination tires ; Yet soon re-prunes her wings to soar anew, Her point unable to forbear, or gainj 1220 p p 2 THE CONSOLATION. So great the pleasure, so profound the plan 1 A banquet this, where men, and angels, meet, Eat the same manna, mingle earth, and heav'n. How distant some of these nocturnal suns ! So distant (says the sage), 'twere not absurd 1225 To doubt, if beams, set out at Nature's birth, Are yet arriv'd at this so foreign world ; Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. An eye of awe and wonder let me roll, And roll for ever : Who can satiate sight 1230 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 The thick-sown glories in this field of fire, Perhaps a seraph's computation fails. 1 235 Now, go, Ambition! boast thy boundless might In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain. And yet LORENZO calls for miracles, To give his tott'ring faith a solid base. Why call for less than is already thine ? 1240 Thou art no novice in theology ; What is a miracle ? 'T is a reproach, *T is an implicit satire, on mankind ; And while it satisfies, it censures too, To common-sense, great Nature's course proclaims A DEITY : When mankind falls asleep, 1 246 A miracle is sent, as an alarm, To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again, By recent argument, but not more strong. Say, which imports more plenitude of pow'r 1250 Or Nature's laws to fix, or to repeal ? To make a sun, or stop his mid-career ? THE CONSOLATION. To countermand his orders, and send back The flaming courier to the frighted East, Warm'd, and astonish'd, at his ev'ning ray? 1255 Or bid the moon, as with her journey tir'd, In Ajalon's soft, flow'ry vale repose? Great things are these; still greater, to create. From Adam's bow'r look down thro* the whole train Of miracles; resistless is their pow'r? 1260 They do not, can not, more amaze the mind, Than this, call'd un-miraculous survey, If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen, If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed, Sees nought but spangles here; the fool, no more. 1265 Say'st thou, " The course of Nature governs all ?" The course of Nature is the art of GOD. The miracles thou calFst for, this attest ; For say, could Nature Nature's course control ? But miracles apart, who sees Him not, 1270 Nature's Controller, Author, Guide, and End ? Who turns his eye on Nature's midnight face, But, must inquire " What hand behind the scene, What arm almighty, put these wheeling globes In motion, and wound up the vast machine? 1275 Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs ? Who bowl'd them flaming through the dark profound, Num'rous as glitt'ring gems of morning dew, Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, And set the bosom of old Night on fire? 1280 Peopled her desert, and made horror srm'le?" Or, if the military style delights thee (For stars have fought their battles, leagu'd with Man), " Who marmals this bright host? enrols their names? THE CONSOLATION. Appoints their posts, their marches, and returns, Punctual, at stated periods ? Who disbands 1286 These vet'ran troops, their final duty done, If e'er disbanded?" He, whose potent word, Like the loud trumpet, levy'd first their pow'rs In Night's inglorious empire, where they slept 1 290 In beds of darkness ; arm'd them with fierce flames, Arrang'd, and disciplin'd, and cloth'd in goldj And call'd them out of Chaos to the field, "Where now they war with Vice and Unbelief. O let us join this army! Joining these, 1295 Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour, When brighter flames shall cut a darker night -, When these strong demonstrations of a GOD Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, And one eternal curtain cover all! 13 Struck at that thought, as new-awak'd, I lift A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars, To Man still more propitious ; and their aid (Though guiltless of idolatry) implore; Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 1305 O ye dividers of my time! ye bright Accomptants of my days, and months, and years, In your fair kalendar distinctly mark'd ! Since that authentic, radiant register, Tho' Man inspects it not, stands good against him 51310 Since you, and years, roll on, tho' Man stands still j Teach me my days to number, and apply My trembling heart to wisdom ; now beyond All fhadow of excuse for fooling on. Age smooths our path to prudence ; sweeps aside 1315 The snares, keen appetite, and passion, spread THE CONSOLATION. 295 To catch stray souls; and woe to that grey head, Whose folly would undo what age has done! Aid, then, aid, all ye stars! Much rather, Thou, Great Artift! Thou, whose finger set aright 1320 This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, Though intervolv'd, exact; and pointing out Life's rapid and irrevocable flight, With such an index fair, as none can miss, Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is clos'd: 1325 Open mine eye, dread DEITY ! to read The tacit doctrine of thy works ; to see Things are they are, unalter'd through the glass Of worldly wishes. Time, Eternity! ('Tis these, mis-measur'd, ruin all mankind,) 1330 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: And let Eternity's full orb, at once, Turn on my soul, and strike it into heav'n. *335 When shall I see far more than charms me now? Gaze on creation's model in thy breast Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more ? When, this vile, foreign, dust, which smothers all That travel Earth's deep vale, shall I shake off? 1340 When shall my soul her incarnation quit, And, re-adopted to thy blest embrace, Obtain her apotheosis in Thee? Dost think, LORENZO! this is wand'ring wide? No, 'tis directly striking at the mark ; 1345 To wake thy dead devotion was my point; And how I bless Night's consecrating shades, Which to a temple turn an uni verse j THE CONSOLATION. Fill us with great ideas full of Heav'n, And antidote the pestilential earth ! 1350 In ev'ry storm, that either frowns, or falls, What an asylum has the soul in pray'r! And what a fane is this, in which to pray! And what a GOD must dwell in such a fane! O what a Genius must inform the skies! I 3S5 And is LORENZO'S salamander-heart Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires ? O ye nocturnal sparks! ye glowing embers, On HeavVs 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; 1361 Pour your whole influence; exorcise his heart,. So long possest; and bring him back to Man. And is LORENZO a demurrer still ? Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 1365 Truths, which, contested, put thy parts to shame. Nor shame they more LORENZO'S head than heart; A faithless heart ? how despicably small! Too strait, aught great, or gen'rous, to receive ! Fill'd with an atom! fill'd, and foul'd, with self! 1370 And self-mistaken! self, that lasts an hour ! Instincts and passions, of the nobler kind, Lie suffocated there ; or they alone, Reason apart, would wake high hope ; and open, To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere, *375 Where Order, Wisdom, Goodness, Providence, Their endless miracles of love display, And promise all the truly great desire. The mind that would be happy, must be great ; Great in its wishes; great in its surveys. 1380 THE CONSOLATION. Extended views a narrow mind extend; Push out its corrugate, expansive make, Which, ere-long, more than planets shall embrace. A man of compass makes a man of worth ; Divine contemplate, and become divine. '385 As Man was made for glory, and for bliss, All littleness is in approach to woe; Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, And let in manhood; let in happiness; Admit the boundless theatre of thought 1 39 <> 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 ; Man's heart is in a jakes, and loves the mire. Emerge from thy profound; erect thine eye ; IJ95 See thy distress! How close art thou besieg'd! Besieg'd by Nature, the proud sceptic's foe ! Inclos'd by these innumerable worlds, Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind, As in a golden net of Providence, 1400 How art thou caught, sure captive of belief! From this thy blest captivity, what art, What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free ! This scene is Heav'n's indulgent violence : Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 1405 What is earth bosom'd in these ambient orbs, But, faith in GOD impos'd, and press'd on Man ? Dar'st thou still litigate thy desp'rate cause, Spite of these num'rous, awful witnesses, And doubt the deposition of the skies ? 1410 O how laborious is thy way to ruin! Laborious? 'Tis impracticable quite j 2C)8 THE CONSOLATION. To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, 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 As much is seen, as Man a GOD can see, In these astonishing exploits of pow'r. 1420 What order, beauty, motion, distance, size! Concerticn of design, how exquisite! How complicate, in their divine police! Apt means! great ends! consent to gen'ral good! Each attribute of these material gods, I4 2 $ So long (and that with specious pleas) ador'd, A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought; And leads in triumph the whole mind of Man. LORENZO! this may seem harangue to thee; Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will. 1430 And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof Of this great master-moral of the skies, Unskill'd, or disinclined, to read it there? Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it, Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. I 43S 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. Retire ; the world shut out ; thy thoughts call home; Imagination's airy wing repress; 144 Lock up thy senses; let no passion stir; Wake all to Reason; let her reign alone; Then, in tny soul's deep silence, and the depth Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, THE CONSOLATION. 299 As I have done; and shall inquire no more. 1445 In Nature's channel, thus the queftions run : " What am I? and from whence? I nothing know, But that I am; and, since I am, conclude Something eternal: Had there e'er been nought, Nought still had been : Eternal there must be. 1 450 But what eternal? Why not human race? And Adam's ancestors without an end ? That's hard to be conceiv'd, since ey'ry link Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail ; Can ev'ry part depend, arid not the whole? J 455 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? Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs Would want some other Father: Much design 1460 Is seen in all their motions, all their makes; Design implies intelligence, and art: That can't be from themselves or Man; that art Man scarce can comprehend, could Man bestow? And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than Man. 1465 Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, Shot through vast masses of enormous weight? Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly? Has matter innate motion? Then each atom, 1470 Asserting its indisputable right To dance, would form an universe of dust: Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms, And boundless flights, from shapeless, and repos'd? Has matter more than motion? Has it thought, 1475 Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learn'd THE CONSOLATION. In mathematics? Has it fram'd such laws, Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal? If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, Who think a clod inferior to a man! 1480 If art, to form; and counsel, to conduct; And that with greater far than human skill; Resides not in each block; a Godhead reigns. Grant, then, invisible, eternal, Mind ; That granted, all is solv'd. But, granting that, Draw I not o'er me a still darker cloud? 1486 Grant I not that which I can ne'er conceive? A Being without origin, or end! Hail, human liberty! There is no GOD Yet, why? On either scheme that knot subsists; 1490 Subsist it must, in GOD, or human race: If in the last, how many knots beside, Indissoluble all ? -Why choose it there, Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand more? Reject it, where, that chosen, all the rest 1495 Dispers'd, leave Reason's whole horizon clear? This is not Reason's dictate; Reason says, Close with the side where one grain turns the scale; What vaft preponderance is here! Can Reason With louder voice exclaim Believe a GOD? 1500 And Reason heard, is the sole mark of Man. What things impossible must Man think true, On any other system! And how strange To disbelieve, through mere credulity!" If in this chain LORENZO finds no flaw, J 55 Let it for ever bind him to belief. And where 's the link, in which a flaw he finds? And, if a GOD there is, that GOD how great! THE CONSOLATION". $01 How great that Pow'r, whose providential care Through these bright orbs' dark centres darts a ray! Of Nature universal threads the whole! 1511 And hangs creation, like a precious gem, Though little, on the footstool of his throne! That little gem, how large! A weight let fall From a fixt star, in ages can it reach I 5 I 5 This distant earth? Say then, LORENZO! where, Where ends this mighty building? Where begin The suburbs of creation? Where the wall Whose battlements look o'er into the vale Of non-existence, Nothing's strange abode? 152(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 more? Where, rears his terminating pillar high Its extra-mundane head? and says to gods, *5 2 5 In characters illustrious as the sun, " I stand, the plan's proud period; I pronounce The work accomplish'd ; the creation clos'd: Shout, all ye gods! nor shout, ye gods, alone; Of all that lives, or, if devoid of life, J 53 That rests, or rolls, ye heights, and depths, resound! Resound! resound! ye depths, and heights, resound!" Hard are those questions? Answer harder still. Is this the sole exploit, the single birth, The solitary son of Pow'r divine? J 535 Or has th' Almighty Father, with a breath, Impregnated the womb of distant space? Has he not bid, in various provinces, Brother-creations the dark bowels burst Of Night primaeval; barren, now, no more? 1540 302 THE CONSOLATION. And He the central sun, transpiercing all Those giant-generations, which disport, And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray; That ray withdrawn, benighted, or absorb'd, In that abyss of horror, whence they sprung; 1545 While Chaos triumphs, repossest of all Rival creation ravish'd from his throne? Chaos! of Nature both the womb and grave! Think'st thou,my scheme, LORENZO, spreadstoo wide? Is this extravagant? No; this is just; 1550 Just, in conjecture, though 'twere false in fact. If 'tis an error, 'tis an error sprung From noble root, high thought of the Most-High. But wherefore error? Who can prove it such? He that can set Omnipotence a bound. 1555 Can Man conceive beyond what GOD can do? Nothing, but quite impossible, is hard. He summons into being, with like ease, A whole creation, and a single grain. 1559 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 The warm imagination: Why condemn? J 5^4 Why not indulge such thoughts, as swell our hearts With fuller admiration of that Pow'r, Who gives our hearts with such high thoughts to swell? Why not indulge in his augmented praise? Darts not his glory a still brighter ray, The less is left to Chaos, and the realms J 57 Of hideous Night, where Fancy strays aghast; And, though most talkative, makes no report? THE CONSOLATION. 303 'Still seems my thought enormous? Think again Experience* self shall aid thy lame belief. Glasses (that revelation to the sight!) 1575 Have they not let us deep in the disclose Of fine-spun Nature, exquisitely small, And, though demonstrated, still ill-conceiv'd? If then, on the reverse, the mind would mount In magnitude, what mind can mount too far, 1583 To keep the balance, and creation poise? Defect alone can err on such a theme; What is too great, if we the Cause survey ? Stupendous Architect! Thou, Thou art all! My soul flies up and down in thoughts of Thee, 1585 And finds herself but at the centre still! I AM, thy name! Existence, all thine own! Creation's nothing; flatter'd much, if styl'd " The thin, the fleeting atmosphere of GOD." O for the voice of what? of whom? what voice Can answer to my wants, in such ascent, I 59 l As dares to deem one universe too small ? Tell me, LORENZO! (for now fancy glows, Fir'd in the vortex of Almighty Pow'r) Is not this home-creation, in the map *595 Of universal Nature, as a speck, Like fair Britannia in our little ball; Exceeding fair, and glorious, for its size, But, eh e where, far outmeasur'd, far outshone? In fancy (for the fact beyond us lies) 1600 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, From other realms^ from ample continents 304 THE CONSOLATION. Of higher life, where nobler natives dwell j 1605 Less northern, less remote from DEITY, Glowing beneath the line of the SUPREME ; Where souls in excellence make hafte, put forth Luxuriant growths; nor the late autumn wait Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods? 1610 Yet why drown fancy in such depths as these ? Return, presumptuous rover ! and confess The bounds of Man ; nor blame them, as too small. Enjoy we not full scope in what is seen ? Full ample the dominions of the sun! 1615 Full glorious to behold ! How far, how wide, The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, Farther, and faster, than a thought can fly, And feeds his planets with eternal fires! 1620 This Heliopolis, by greater far, Than the proud tyrant of the Nile, was built ; And He alone, who built it, can destroy. Beyond this city, why strays human thought? One wonderful, enough for Man to know! 1625 One infinite, enough for Man to range ! One firmament, enough for Man to read ! O what voluminous instruction here ! What page of wisdom is deny'd him ? None ; If learning his chief lesson makes him wise. 1 630 Nor is instruction, here, our only gain ; There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! With what authority it gives its charge, Remonstrating great truths in style sublime, THE CONSOLATION. 305 Though silent, loud ; heard earth around ; above The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell : Hell has her wonder, though too proud to praise. Is earth, then, more infernal? Has she those, 1640 Who neither praise (LORENZO!) nor admire? LORENZO'S admiration, pre-engag'd, Ne'er ask'd the moon one question; never held Least correspondence with a single star; Ne'er rear'd an altar to the queen of heav'n 1645 Walking in brightness; or her train ador'd. Their sublunary rivals have long since Engross'd his whole devotion; stars malign, Which made their fond astronomer run mad, Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart; 1650 Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace To momentary madness, call'd delight. Idolater, more gross than ever kiss'd The lifted hand to Luna, or pour'd out The blood to Jove! O Thou, to whom belongs 1655 All sacrifice! O Thou great Jove unfeign'd! Divine Instructor! Thy first volume this, For Man's perusal; all in capitals! In moon and stars (Heav'n's golden alphabet!) Emblaz'd to seize the sight; who runs, may read; 1660 Who reads, can understand. 'Tis unconfin'd To Christian land, or Jewry; fairly writ, In language universal, to Mankind: A language, lofty to the learn'd; yet plain To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 1 665 Or, from its husk, strike out the bounding grain. A language, worthy the great MIND, that speaks! Preface, and comment, to the sacred page ! R R THE CONSOLATION. Which oft refers its reader to the skies, As presupposing his first lesson there, 1670 And scripture-self a fragment, that unread. Stupendous book of wisdom, to the wise! Stupendous book! and open'd, Night! by thee. By thee much open'd, I confess, O Night! Yet more I wish; but how shall I prevail? l ^75 Say, gentle Night ! whose modest, maiden beams Give us a new creation, and present The world's great picture soften'd to the sight; Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent still, Say, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 1680 "Unlocks our hemisphere, arid sets to view Worlds beyond number; worlds conceal'd by day Behind the proud and envious star of noon! Canst thou not draw a deeper scene? and shew The mighty Potentate, to whom belong 1685 These rich regalia pompously display'd To kindle that high hope? Like him of Uz, I gaze around; I search on every side O for a glimpse of Him my soul adores! As the chas'd hart, amid the desert waste, 1 690 Pants for the living stream; for Him who made her, So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank Of sublunary joys. Say, goddess! where, 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 1696 The sable curtain 's drawn. If not, can none Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, Who travel far, discover where He dwells? A star his dwelling pointed out below. 1700 THE CONSOLATION. 37 Ye Pleiades! Arcturus! Mazaroth! And thou, Orion! of still keener eye! Say ye, who guide the wilder'd in the waves, And bring them out of tempest into port! On which hand must I bend my course to findHim? 1 705 These courtiers keep the secret of their King; I wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. I wake ; and waking, climb Night's radiant scale, From sphere to sphere; the steps by Nature set For Man's ascent; at once to tempt and aid ; 1710 To tempt his eye, and aid his tow'ring thought; Till it arrives at the gfeat Goal of all. In ardent Contemplation's rapid car, From earth, as from my barrier, I set out. How swift I mount! diminish'd earth recedes; 1715 I pass the moon; and, from her farther side, Pierce Heav'n's blue curtain; strike into remote; Where, with his lifted tube, the subtile sage His artificial, airy journey takes, And to celestial lengthens human sight. 1720 I pause at ev'ry planet on my road, And ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll, Their foreheads fair to shine. From Saturn's ring, In which, of earths an army might be lost, With the bold comet, take my bolder flight, *7 2 5 Amid those sov'reign glories of the skies, Of independent, native luftre, proud; The souls of systems! and the lords of life, Through their wide empires! What behold I now? A wilderness of wonders burning round; *73 Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres; Perhaps the villas of descending gods! R R 2 THE CONSOLATION. Nor halt I here; my toil is but begun; 'Tis but the threshold of the DEITY; Or, far beneath it, I am groveling still. '735 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 ; Who built thus high for worms (mere worms to Him) ; O where, LORENZO! must the Builder dwell ? 1740 Pause, then ; and, for a moment, here respire If human thought can keep its station here. Where am I ? Where is earth ? Nay, where art thou, O Sun? Is the sun turn'd recluse ? and are His boasted expeditions short to mine? J 745 To mine, how short ! On Nature's Alps I stand, And see a thousand firmaments beneath ! A thousand systems ! as a thousand grains ! So much a stranger, and so late arriv'd, How can Man's curious spirit not inquire, 1750 What are the natives of this world sublime, Of this so foreign, un-terrestrial sphere, Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd ? " O ye, as distant from my little home, As swiftest sun-beams in an age can fly ! 1755 Far from my native element I roam, In quest of new, and wonderful, to Man. What province this, of his immense domain, Whom all obey ? or mortals here, or gods ? Ye bord'rers on the coasts of bliss ! what are you ? A colony from Heav'n? or only rais'd, 1760 By frequent visit from Heav'n's neighb'ring realms, To secondary gods, and half-divine ? Whatever your nature, this is past dispute, THE CONSOLATION. 309 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 enthron'd, And absolute ? or sense in arms against her ? Have you two lights ? or need you no reveal'd ? 1770 Enjoy your happy realms their golden age ? And had your Eden an abstemious Eve ? Our Eve's fair daughters prove their pedigree, And ask their Adams ' Who would not be wise?' Or, if your mother fell, are you redeem'd? 1775 And if redeem'd is your Redeemer scorn'd ? Is this your final residence ? If not, Change you your scene, translated ? or by death ? And if by death ; what death ? Know you disease ? Or horrid war? With war, this fatal hour, 1780 Europa groans (so call we a small field, Where kings run mad). In our world, Death deputes Intemperance to do the work of Age ! And, hanging up the quiver Nature gave him, As slow of execution, for dispatch '7^5 Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay Their sheep (the silly sheep they fleec'd before), And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. Sit all your executioners on thrones ? With you, can rage for plunder make a god? 1790 And bloodshed wash out ev'ry other stain ? But you, perhaps, can't bleed : From matter gross Your spirits clean, are delicately clad In fine-spun ether, privileg'd to soar, Unloaded, uninfected : How unlike ! 795 The lot of Man ! How few of human race THE CONSOLATION. By their own miyi unmurder'd ! How we wage Self- war eternal ! Is your painful day Of hardy conflict o'er ? Or, are you still Raw candidates at school? And have you those 1800 Who disaffect reversions, as with us ? But what are we ? You never heard of Man, Or Earth ; the bedlam of the universe ! Where Reason (undiseas'd with you) runs mad, And nurses Folly's children as her own ; 1805 Fond of the foulest. In the sacred mount Of holiness, where reason is pronounc'd Infallible j and thunders, like a god ; Ev'n 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 ; 1810 Satan, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. But this, how strange to you, who know not Man ! Has the least rumour of our race arriv'd ? CalPd here Elijah, in his naming car? 1815 Past by you the good Enoch, on his road To those fair fields, whence Lucifer was hurl'd ; Who brush'd, perhaps, your sphere, in his descent, Stain'd your pure crystal ether, or let fall A short eclipse from his portentous shade? 1820 O ! that the fiend had lodg'd on some broad orb Athwart his way ; nor reach'd his present home, Then blacken' d Earth with footsteps foul'd in Hell, Nor wash'd in ocean, as from Rome he past To Britain's isle ; too, too, conspicuous there !" But this is all digression: Where is HE, 1826 That o'er Heav'n's battlements the felon hurl'd To groans, and chains, and darkness ? Where is HE a THE CONSOLATION. 3!! Who sees creation's summit in a vale? HE, whom, while Man is Man, he can't but seek ; 1830 And if he finds, commences more than Man ? O for a telescope his throne to reach ! Tell me, ye learn'd on earth ! or blest above ! Ye searching, ye Newtonian angels ! tell, Where's your great Master's orb? His planets, where? Those conscious satellites, those morning-stars, 1 836 First-born of DEITY ! from central love, By veneration most profound, thrown off; By sweet attraction, no less strongly drawn; Aw'd, and yet raptur'd; raptur'd, yet serene; 1840 Past thought, illustrious, but with borrow'd beams ; In still approaching circles, still remote, Revolving round the sun's eternal Sire ? Or sent, in lines direct, on embassies To nations in what latitude? Beyond 1845 Terrestrial thought's horizon! And on what High errands sent ? Here human effort ends ; And leaves me still a stranger to his throne. Full well it might ! I quite mistook my road. Born in an age more curious than devout; 1850 More fond to fix the place of heav'n, or hell, Than studious this to shun, or that secure. 'Tis not the curious, but the pious path, That leads me to my point : LORENZO ! know, Without or star, or angel, for their guide, ^5 Who worship GOD, shall find him. Humble Love, And not proud Reason, keeps the door of Heav'n j Love finds admission, where proud Science fails. Man's science is the culture of his heart ; And not to lose his plummet in the depths 1 THE CONSOLATION. Of Nature, or the more profound of GOD. Either to know, is an attempt that sets The wisest on a level: with the fool. To fathom Nature (ill-attempted here!) Past doubt, is deep philosophy above ; 1865 Higher degrees in bliss archangels take, As deeper learn' d ; the deepest, learning still. For, what a thunder of Omnipotence (So might I dare to speak!) is seen in all! In Man! inearth! in more amazing skies! 1870 Teaching this lesson, Pride is loth to learn " Not deeply to discern, not much to know j Mankind was born to wonder, and adore." And is there cause for higher wonder still, Than that which struck us from our past surveys ? 1875 Yes j and for deeper adoration too. From my late airy travel unconfin'd, Have I learn'd nothing ? Yes, LORENZO! this; Each of these stars is a religious house; I saw their altars smoke, their incense rise, 1880 And heard Hosannas ring through ev'ry sphere, A seminary fraught with future gods. Nature all o'er is consecrated ground, Teeming with growths immortal, and divine. The great Proprietor's all-bounteous hand 1885 Leaves nothing waste ; but sows these fiery fields With seeds of reason, which to virtues rise Beneath his genial ray ; and, if escap'd The pestilential blasts of stubborn will, When grown mature, are gather'd for the skies. 1890 And is devotion thought too much on earth, When beings, so superior, homage boast, THE CONSOLATION. 313 And triumph in prostrations to the Throne ? But wherefore more of planets, or of stars ? Ethereal journies, and, discover'd there, '895 Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, All Nature sending incense to the Throne, Except the bold LORENZOS of our sphere? Op'ning the solemn sources of my soul, Since I have pour'd, like feign'd Eridanus, 1900 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 Our past nocturnal landscape wide : Then say, Say, then, LORENZO! with what burst of heart, 1905 The whole, at once, revolving in his thought, Must Man exclaim, adoring, and aghast? " O what a root ! O what a branch is here ! O what a father ! what a fajmily ! Worlds ! systems ! and creations ! And creations, In one agglomerated cluster, hung, 1911 Great Vine, on Thee, on Thee the cluster hangs j The filial cluster ! infinitely spread In glowing globes, with various being fraught ; And drinks (nectareous draught !) immortal life. Or, shall I say (for who can say enough ?) 1916 A constellation of ten thousand gems, (And, O! of what dimension ! of what weight !) Set in one signet, flames on the right-hand Of Majesty Divine! The blazing seal, 1920 That deeply stamps, on all created mind, Indelible, his sov'reign attributes, Omnipotence, and love !. That, passing bound : And this, surpassing that. Nor stop we here, s s THE CONSOLATION. For want of pow'r in GOD, but thought in Man. Ev'n this acknowledg'd, leaves us still in debt j 1925 If greater aught, that greater all is thine, Dread SIRE! Accept this miniature of Thee; And pardon an attempt from mortal thought, In which archangels might have faiPd, unblam'd." How such ideas of th' Almighty's pow'r, I 93 9 And such ideas of th' Almighty's plan, (Ideas not absurd) distend the thought Of feeble mortals ! Nor of them alone ! The fulness of the DEITY breaks forth In inconceivables to men, and gods* J 935 Think, then, O think ; nor ever drop the thought ; How low must Man descend, when Gods adore! Have I not, then, accomplish'd my proud boast ? Did I not tell thee, " We would mount, LORENZO! And kindle our devotion at the stars ?" J94O And have I fail'd ? And did I flatter thee ? And art all adamant ? And dost confute All urg'd, with one irrefragable smile ? LORENZO! Mirth how miserable here! Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear, Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they: 1946 Then thou, like them, shalt shine; like them, shalt rise From low to lofty; from obscure to bright; By due gradation, Nature's sacred law. The stars, from whence? Ask Chaos He can tell. These bright temptations to idolatry, 1951 From darkness, and confusion, took their birth ; Sons of Deformity ! From fluid dregs Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude : And then, to spheres opaque; then dimly shone; 1955 THE CONSOLATION. 315 Then brighten'd; then blaz'd out in perfect day. Nature delights in progress ; in advance From worse to better: But, when minds ascend, Progress, in part, depends upon themselves. Heav'n aids exertion ; greater makes the great j 1960 The voluntary little lessens more. O be a man! and thou shalt be a god ! And half self-made! Ambition how divine ! O thou, ambitious of disgrace alone ! Still undevout? unkindled? Though high-taught, 1 965 School'd by the skies; and pupil of the stars j Rank coward to the fashionable world! Art thou asham'd to bend thy knee to heav'n ? Curst fume of pride, exhal'd from deepest hell ! Pride in religion is Man's highest praise. J 97 Bent on destruction ! and in love with death ! Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once, Were half so sad, as one benighted mind, Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night, J 975 Amid her glimm'ring tapers, silent sitsi How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 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. igScx- Though blind of heart, still open is thine eye : Why such magnificence in all thou seest ? Of matter's grandeur, know, one end is this, To tell the' rational, who gazes on it " Though that immensely great, still greater He, 1985 Whose breast, capacious, can embrace, and lodge, Unburden'd, Nature's universal scheme; s s 2 THE CONSOLATION. * Can grasp creation with a single thought ; Creation grasp^and not exclude its SIRE." To tell him farther " It behoves him much To guard th' important, yet depending, fate Of being, brighter than a thousand suns : One single ray of thought outshines them all.'* And if Man hears obedient, soon he'll soar Superior heights, and on his purple wing, 1995 His purple wing bedropp'd with eyes of gold, Rising, where thought is now deny'd to rise, Look down triumphant on these dazzling spheres. Why then persist? No mortal ever liv'd But, dying, he pronounc'd (when words are true!) 2000 The whole that charms thee, absolutely vain ; Vain, and far worse ! Think thou, with dying men ; O condescend to think as angels think ! O tolerate a chance for happiness ! Our nature such, ill choice ensures ill fate 2005 And hell had been, though there had been no God. Dost thou not know, my new astronomer ! 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, 2010 Amend no manners, and expect no peace. How deep the darkness! and the groan, how loud ! And far, how far, from lambent are the flames! Such is LORENZO'S purchase! such his praise! The proud, the politic, LORENZO'S praise ! 2015 Though in his ear, and levell'd at his heart, I've half read o'er the volume of the skies. For think not thou hast heard all this from me ; My song but echoes what great Nature speaks. THE CONSOLATION. 317 What has she spoken ? Thus the Goddess spoke, 2020 Thus speaks for ever " Place, at Nature's head, A sov'reign, which o'er all things rolls his eye, Extends his wing, promulgates his commands, But, above all, diffuses endless good ; 2024 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, Diversify'd in fortunes, place, and pow'rs, Rais'd in enjoyment, as in worth they rise, Arrive at length (if worthy such approach) 2030 At that blest Fountain-head, from which they stream j Where conflict past redoubles present joy; And present joy looks forward on increase; And that, on more ; no period! ev'ry step A double boon ! a promise, and a bliss." 2O 35 How easy sits this scheme on human hearts ! It suits their make ; it sooths their vast desires ; Passion is pleas'd, and Reason asks no more ; 'Tis rational, 'tis great! But what is thine? It darkens ! shocks ! excruciates ! and confounds ! 2040 Leaves us quite naked, both of help and hope, Sinking from bad to worse ; few years, the sport Of fortune ; then the morsel of despair. Say, then, LORENZO! (for thou know'st it well) What's Vice ? Mere want of compass in our thought. Religion, what ? The proof of common sense; 2046 How art thou whooted, where the least prevails ! Is it my fault, if these truths call thee fool? And thou shalt never be miscall'd by me. Can neither shame, nor terror, stand thy friend ? 2050 And art thou still an insect in the mire ? 3*8 THE CONSOLATION. How, like thy guardian angel, have I flown ; Snatch'd thee from earth ; escorted thee through ail Th* ethereal armies ; walk'd thee, like a God, Through splendours of first magnitude, arrang'd 2055 On either hand; clouds thrown beneath thy feet; Close-cruis'd on the bright paradise of GOD ; And almost introduc'd thee to the Throne ! And art thou still carousing, for delight, Rank poison; first, fermenting to mere froth, 2060 And then subsiding into final gall ? To beings of sublime, immortal make, How shocking is all joy, whose end is sure ! Such joy more shocking still, the more it charms ! And dost thou chuse what ends ere well begun, 2065 And infamous, as short ? And dost thou chuse (Thou, to whose palate glory is so sweet) To wade into perdition, through contempt, Not of poor bigots only, but thy own ? For I have peep'd into thy cover'd heart, 2070 And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; For, by strong guilt's most violent assault, Conscience is but disabled, not destroy'd. O thou most awful being, and most vain ! Thy will, how frail ! how glorious is thy pow'r ! 2075 Though dread Eternity has sown her seeds Of bliss, and woe, in thy despotic breast ; Though Heav'n, and Hell, depend upon thy choice ! A butterfly comes cross, and both are fled. Is this the picture of a rational? 2080 This horrid image, shall it be most just ? LORENZO ! No : It cannot, shall not, be, If there is force in reason ; or, in sounds, THE CONSOLATION. 319 Chanted beneath the glimpses of the moon, A magic, at this planetary hour, 2085 When slumber locks the gen'ral lip, and dreams Through senseless mazes hunt souls uninspir'd. Attend The sacred mysteries begin My solemn night-born adjuration hear: Hear, and I'll raise thy spirit from the dust ; 2090 "While the stars gaze on this enchantment new j Enchantment, not infernal, but divine ! " By Silence, Death's peculiar attribute; By Darkness, Guilt's inevitable doom ; By Darkness, and by Silence, sisters dread ! 2095 That draw the curtain round Night's ebon throne, And raise ideas, solemn as the scene! 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, everburning; and, like hers, 2101 Sacred to thoughts immaculate, and pure! By these bright orators, that prove, and praise, And press thee to revere the DEITY; Perhaps, too, aid thee, when rever'd awhile, 2105 To reach his throne ; as stages of the soul, Through which, at diff 'rent periods, she shall pass, Refining gradual, for her final height, And purging off some dross at ev'ry sphere ! By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world ! 21 10 By the world's kings, and kingdoms, most renown'd, From short ambition's zenith set for ever ; Sad presage to vain boasters, now in bloom ! By the long list of swift mortality, From Adam downward to this ev'ning knell, 2115 32O THE CONSOLATION. Which midnight waves in Fancy's startled eye ; And shocks her with an hundred centuries, 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 2121 Ejected, to make room for human earth ; The monarch's terror ! and the sexton's trade ! By pompous obsequies, that shun the day, The torch funereal, and the nodding plume, 2125 Which makes poor Man's humiliation proud j Boast of our ruin ! triumph of our dust ! By the damp vault that weeps o'er royal bones ; And the pale lamp that shews the ghastly dead, More ghastly, through the thick incumbent gloom ! By visits (if there are) from darker scenes, 2131 The gliding fpectre ! and the groaning grave ! By groans, and graves, and miseries that groan For the grave's shelter ! By desponding men, Senseless to pains of death, fronT pangs of guilt ! By guilt's lad audit ! By yon moon in blood, 2136 The rocking firmament, the falling stars, And thunder's last discharge, great Nature's knell ! By fecond Chaos ; and eternal night" Be wise Nor let PHILANDER blame my charm j 2140 But own not ill-discharg'd my double debt, Love to the living ; duty to the dead. For know, I'm but executor j he left This moral legacy ! I make it o'er By his command j PHILANDER hear in me ; 2145 And heav'n in both. If deaf to these, Oh! hear THE CONSOLATION. 321 -*- , i . , FLORELLO'S tender voice ; his weal depends On thy resolve; it trembles at thy choice; For his sake love thyself: Example strikes All human hearts; a bad example more; 2150 More still a father's ; that ensures his ruin. As parent of his being, wouldst thou prove Th' unnatural parent of his miseries, And make him curse the being which thou gav'st? Is this the blessing of so fond a father? 2155 If careless of LORENZO, fpare, Oh! spare, FLORELLO'S father, and PHILANDER'S friendj FLORELLO'S father ruin'd, ruins him; And from PHILANDER'S friend the world expects A conduct, no dishonour to the dead. 2160 Let passion do, what nobler motive should ; Let love, and emulation, rise in aid To reason; and persuade thee to be blest. This seems not a request to be deny'd j Yet (such th' infatuation of mankind !) 2165 'Tis the moft hopeless, Man can make to Man. Shall I, then, rise in argument, and warmth j And urge PHILANDER'S posthumous advice, From topics yet unbroach'd ? But Oh! I faint! My spirits fail! Nor strangel 2170 So long on wing, and in no middle clime; To which my great Creator's glory call'd: And calls but, now, in vain. Sleep's dewy wand Has str'ok'd my drooping lids, and promises My long arrear of rest; the downy god 2175 (Wont to return with our returning peace) Will pay, ere long, and bless me with repose. Haste, haste, sweet stranger! from the peasant's cot, T T THE CONSOLATION. The ship-boy's hammock, or the soldier's straw, Whence sorrow never chas'd thee; with thee bring, Not hideous visions, as of late; but draughts 2181 Delicious of well-tasted, cordial Test ; Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath, That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play, The various movements of this nice machine, 2 1 85 Which asks such frequent periods of repair. When tir'd with vain rotations of the day, 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 kno w'st ! 2191 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! And seen in all! 'the great, and the minute; Each globe above, with its gigantic race, 2I 99 Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'd, (Those puny vouchers of Omnipotence !) To the first thought, that asks, ' From whence?' declare Their common Source. Thou Fountain running o'er In rivers of communicated joy ! Who gav'st us speech for far, far humbler themes! Say, by what name shall I presume to call 2206 Him I see burning in these countless suns, THE CONSOLATIOK. 323 As Moses in the bush ? Illustrious Mind! The whole creation, less, far less, to Thee, Than that to the creation's ample round. 2210 How shall I name Thee? How my labouring soul Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth! " Great System of perfections ! Mighty Cause Of causes mighty! Cause uncaus'd! fole Root Of Nature, that luxuriant growth of GOD! 2215 First Father of effects ! that progeny Of endless series; where the golden chain's Last link admits a period, who can tell? Father of all that is or heard, or hears! Father of all that is or seen, or sees! 2220 Father of all that is, or shall arise! 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 2225 Of like amaze, and mystery, to Man. 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? 2230 Father of matter's temporary lords! 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 22 35 More pale, or bright from day divine, to break The dark of matter organiz'd (the ware -Of all created spirit); beams, that rise Each over other in superior light, T T 2 324 THE CONSOLATION. Till the last ripens into lustre strong, 2240 Of next Approach to Godhead. Father fond (Far fonder than e'er bore that name on earth) Of intellectual beings! beings blest With pow'rs to pleafe Thee ; not of passive ply To laws they know not; beings lodg'd in seats 2245 Of well-adapted joys, in diff'rent domes Of this imperial palace for thy sons ; Of this proud, populous, well-policy'd, Though boundless habitation, plann'd by Thee; Whose several clans their several climates suit; 2250 And transposition, doubtless, would destroy. Or, Oh! 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! 2255 Father of immortality to Man! 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 2260 Were made; and one, redeem'd! Illuilrious light 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! 2266 And Oh! 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 2270 Through the short channels of expiring time, THE CONSOLATION. 325 Or shoreless ocean of eternity, Calm, or tempestuous (as Thy Spirit breathes), In absolute subjection! And, O Thou The glorious Third! distinct not separate! 22 75 Beaming from both ! with both incorporate ! And (strange to tell !) incorporate with dust! By condescension, as thy glory, great, Enshrin'd in Man ! of human hearts, if pure, Divine inhabitant ! the tie divine 2280 Of heav'n with distant earth! by whom, I trust, (If not inspir'd) uncensur'd this address To Thee, to Them To whom ? Mysterious Power ! Reveal'd yet unreveal'd ! Darkness in light! Number in unity! Our joy! Our dread! 2285 The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin! That animates all right, the triple sun! Sun of the soul! her never-setting sun! Triune, unutterable, unconceiv'd, Absconding, yet demonstrable, Great GOD! 2290 Greater than greatest! better than the best ! 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 j 2295 Beyond archangels' unassisted ken; From far above what mortals highest call; From elevation's pinnacle; look down Through What? Confounding interval! Through all, And more than lab'ring fancy can conceive; 2300 Through radiant ranks of essences unknown ; Through hierarchies from hierarchies detach'd Round various banners of Omnipotence, 326 THE CONSOLATION. With endless change of rapt'rous duties fir'd ; Through wondrous beings interposing swarms, 2305 All clust'ring at the call, to dwell in Thee; Through this wide waste of worlds; this vista vast, 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, 2310 Or, lower, an immortal in his crimes. 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), unpity'd, and unblest! 2316 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, 2320 Gently, ah gently, lay me in my bed, 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; ev'ry night 2 3 2 5 Let it out-cry the boy at Philip's ear ; That tongue of death ! that herald of the tomb ! And when (the shelter of thy wing implor'd) My senses, sooth'd, shall sink in soft repose ; O sink this truth still deeper in my soul, 2 33 Suggested by my pillow, sign'd by fate, First, in Fate's volume, at the page of Man ' Man's sickly soul, though turn'd and toss'd for ever, * From side to side, can rest on nought but THEE ; 4 Here, in full trust; hereafter in full joy;' 2 335 THE CONSOLATION. 327 On THEE, the promis'd, sure, eternal down Of spirits, toiPd in travel through this vale. Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; For Love Almighty ! Love Almighty ! (sing, Exult, Creation!) Love Almighty, reigns! 2340 That death of death ! that cordial of despair ! And loud Eternity's triumphant song ! " Of whom no more: For, O Thou Patron-God! Thou GOD and Mortal ! thence more GOD to Man! Man's theme eternal ! Man's eternal theme ! 2 345 Thou can'st not 'scape uninjur'd from our praiae. Uninjur'd from our praise can he escape, Who, disembosom'd from the FATHER, bows The heaven of heav'ns, to kiss the distant earth ! Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ! 2 35 Against the cross, Death's iron sceptre breaks! 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 suff'ring brothers to receive! 2 355 And, if deep human guilt in payment fails; As deeper guilt prohibits our despair! Injoins it, as our duty, to rejoice! And (to close ail) omnipotently kind, Takes his delight among the sons of men ?'* 2360 What words are these! And did they come from Heav'n? And were they spoke to Man? To guilty Man? What are all mysteries to love like this! The song of angels, all the melodies Of choral gods, are wafted in the sound; Heal and exhilarate the broken heurt, 328 THE CONSOLATION. Though plung'd, before, in horrors dark as night : Rich prelibation of consummate joy ! Nor wait we dissolution to be blest. This final effort of the moral muse, 2370 How justly titled! Not for me alone; For all that read; \vhat spirit of support, What heights of CONSOLATION crown my song! Then farewell NIGHT! Of darkness, now, no more: Joy breaks; shines; triumphs; 'tis eternal day. 2375 Shall that which rises out of nought complain Of a few evils, paid with endless joys ? My soul ! henceforth, in sweetest union join The two supports of human happiness, Which some, erroneous, think can never meet; 2380 True taste of life, and constant thought of death; The thought of death, sole victor of its dread ! Hope be thy joyj and probity thy skill ; Thy patron HE, whose diadem has dropp'd Yon gems of heaven; Eternity, thy prize: 2385 And leave the racers of the world their own, 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. 2390 How must a spirit, late escap'd from earth, Suppose PHILANDER'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 past, 2396 To scourge us with due sense of its abuse, The same astonishment will feize us all. THE CONSOLATION". 329 What then must pain us, would preserve us now. LORENZO! 'tis not yet too late: LORENZO! 2400 Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wisej That is, seize wifdom, ere she seizes thee. For, what, my small philosopher! is hell? 'T is nothing, but full knowledge of the truth, When Truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe; 2405 And calls Eternity to do her right* Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light, And sacred silence whispering truths divine, And truths divine converting pain to peace, My song the midnight raven has outwing'd, 2410 And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes, 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 ; 2415 *T is pride, to praise her; penance, to perform. To more than words, to more than worth of tongue, LORENZO! rise, at this auspicious hour; An hour, when Heav'n's most intimate with Man ; When, like a falling star, the ray divine 2420 Glides swift into the bosom of the just; And just are all, determin'd to reclaim ; Which sets that title high, within thy reach. Awake then, thy PHILANDER calls: Awake! Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation sleeps; 2425 When, like a taper, all these suns expire ; When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath, Plucking the pillars that support the world, In Nature's ample ruins lies intomb'd ; And Midnight, universal Midnight ! reigns. 243- u u NOTES TO THE NIGHT THOUGHTS OF YOUNG. WHATEVER respective value it may be proper to set on the other sciences, those, which are of the most extensive utility, and the most interesting to mankind, are poetry, history, and eloquence. For, at the same time that they constitute what is called polite literature, they are accompanied with graces and charms of pecu- liar attraction. It is needless to inform the intelligent reader, that the art of poetry, profane, as it is become, by its shameful prostitution, was originally invented to render the public homage of adoration to the Divine Being ; and, to teach mankind the most important truths of religion. Such was the purity of its first institution. A learned prelate of our own country considers it as of divine origin ; and such, indeed, appears to have been the opinion of the more informed part of the heathen world. They considered poetry, we are told, as something sacred and celestial ; not produced by human genius, but altogether a divine gift. The mysteries and ceremonies of their religion, and the worship of their deities, were performed in verse ; and the most antient of their compositions, the oracles^ always consisted of numbers. It ought to be observed, as a circumstance of still greater consi- deration, that, in the oracles of divine truth itself, there are some of the first and choicest specimens of poetic taste ; and that in this, as well as in many other respects, the SACRED SCRIPTURES will for ever remain unrivalled. Nor is it any dishonour to the Author or the Night Thoughts, that his work is enriched and dignified with Tarious treasures from that source. " If men of the first intellectual powers had dedicated their talents to the sublimest of all subjects, and had followed the example of u u 2 332 NOTES (IN THE NIGHT THOUGTHS. this excellent writer ; if they had recommended every moral and re ligious duty, with all the charms of numbers^ and in all the colours of a fine imagination ; they might have inspired those with a love of Christianity and virtue) who are now feduced, by a licentious muse, to vice and scepticism. Let men of genius enter this field ; let them recollect that they have Homer and Cattimacbus, in some mea- sure, for their model ; or, which is better still, that Milton derived from facred subjects a style of poetry, which all the enlightened world admire." The design of our Author is evidently that of exposing the vanity of the world, and the insufficiency of all earthly pursuits, possessions, and enjoyments, to satisfy the vast desires of an immortal spirit ; and, from the emptiness of all sublunary bliss, to lead the soul to virtue, to religion, and to GOD. In the prosecution, of this mjSle design, there is a force of reasoning, not to be equalled in any- poetic composition in our language. If a certain degree of obscurity, accompanied with an unusual brevity, be acknowledged excellencies in a didactic poem, they arc flistinguishing characteristics of this writer ; whose style and man- fier are unusually sententious and pointed : In whom, however, there Sre not wanting some very beautiful instances of the tender and pa- thetic, the sublime and grand. Let us be permitted to celebrate it, as a peculiar excellency of this work, that it is impossible to read it without reflection. And the habit of reflection is what forms the man of judgment the va- luable member of society and the candidate for honours, which will never fade. In an age, like the present, when all orders of men are in some degree attentive to letters, he certainly renders great service to reli- gion, and consequently to society, who unites taste with theology ; and much encouragement ought surely to be given to those, who are exerting their utmost efforts, to promote the desirable coalition Of piety and the arts. It was saying but little, of this illustrious ornament of our coun- try, in a comparative view, when it was remarked of him, that* 14 with all his defects, he was a.genius and a poet." VOTES TO NIGHT THE FIRST. NIGHT THE FIRST. VERSE ift, &c. " Tir'd Nature's," &c. It is impossible to. possess that happy sensibility, from whence arises every amiable emotion of the heart, without being tenderly affected with the pathos of this introduction. Nothing can more beautifully express the state of mind it is intended to delineate. Who can read the lines* and not be touched with the sentiment ? We have something very similar in the introduction of Gray's Elegy, and Pope's Eloisa ; " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea ; The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me." " In these deep solitudes, and awful cells, Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing Melancholy reigns " In each of them, the sound is a very natural and obvious echo t the sense ; but, in that of our Author, there is something so con- genial with universal experience, that you hear it for ever repeated. V. 1 8th, &c. " Night, sable goddess,'* &c. How admirably is all this scenery contrived, to fix the mind in a posture of the most serene reflection ! Neither does the Poet transport us into the re- gions of fancy ; every thing here, is truth and fact. V. 36th, &c. " Thou, who didft put to flight Primeval Silence," &c. Is there not something uncommonly sublime and grand, in this sudden and yet well-timed address to the Divine Being ? How mean and insignificant does the usual mode of invocation to some inspiring muse, appear before it ! What dignity does it reflect on the whole subject ! and on Man, when it is the genuine breathing of his heart! And how devoutly is it to be wished, that all the disappointments and sorrows of this present scene may drive him, for repose and peace, into " The bosom of his Father, Friend, and God !" Though Milton's address to the Divine Spirit has its beauties, this is a prayer that people of every rank and circumstance may record in their memories, and make use of upon all occasions with great advantage. 334- NOTES TO NIGHT THE FIRST. V. 41, &c, " How poor, how rich," &c. St. Augustine very justly observed, that Man, considered in his essence, and in all his relations, is an aenigma of all others the most difficult to be solved. No power, but the Deity, was capable of establishing so intimate an union between an indivisible soul, and a substance composed of parts ; between an immortal spirit, and a mass of flesh, destined to be reduced to dust ; in a word, between thought and sensations, ideas and forms, affections and nerves. It is sufficient then to descend into ourselves, in order to con- template a prodigy every moment renewed ; but we find there only an horrible abyss, if the Deity does not occupy the first rank within us. Each of us should have a throne erected for GOD in his heart ; other- wise, it becomes a chaos without order or symmetry. If we would have a just definition of ourfelves, conformable to our excellencies and our imperfections, we must make our inquiries of Religion, to gain an exact knowledge of our nature. V. 99, &c. " Her ceaseless flight," &c. None but a spiritual being can produce immaterial ideas. The most subtle particles of air and fire might be collected, might be agitated in every direc- tion, but can never be formed into a syllogism. Flame, radiant and penetrating as it is, has never yet given birth to a single thought, et a single argument. That thought, which in an instant makes the circuit of the world ; which subjects the universe to its observa- tions ; which, with the most rapid flight, rises even to the infinite Being ; which has neither situation, figure, nor colour ; which im- periously commands, and forces the body to obey its orders ; tell me, how can it be a part of that same body ? If thought be thus really spiritual, must not the soul, which engenders it, be spi- ritual ? V. 135, &c. " Yet Man, fool Man!" &c. Milton, in his Comus, has expressed the same idea in the following strain : " The smoke and stir of this dim spot, Which men call earth, and with low-thoughted care Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, Unmindful of the crown which Virtue gives After this mortal change to her true servants, Around the throne of GOD on sainted seats." NOTES TO NIGHT THE FIRST. 33$ V. 149, &c. " A soul immortal, &c." A finer stroke of satire on the folly, not to say disarrangement, of those, who are spending all their time and powers in terrestrial pursuits, or in every varied scene of dissipation and levity, is scarcely to be met with in any writer. V. 158, &c. " How, like a worm," &c. The imagery, in these lines, is exquisitely beautiful, and admirably descriptive of the fascinating illusions, by which human beings suffer themselves to be cheated out of their real happinefs. V. 238, &c. " I mourn for millions ; 'tis the common lot ; In this fhape," &c. See this most pathetically elucidated in the Ecclesiastes of Solo- mon. Who, indeed, has not felt the force of that weeping strain in the history of Job, where it is said, " Man, that is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble : He cometh up and is cut down like a flower : He fleeth also as a shadow, and con- tinueth not." V. 26.), c. " Give, and reduce Surfeit's dominion o'er you." " Take physic, Pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, And shew the heavens more just." King Lear, Act iii. Scene 5. See also Thomson's, " Ah ! little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power,'' &c. Winter Season. V. 289, &c. " Such is Earth's melancholy map,'' &c. This account of earth's melancholy map, to those who skim lightly over the surface of things, and whose wretched maxim is, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ;" may, perhaps, be pronounced dark and gloomy. The design, however, is equally benevolent and pious. It is evidently drawn in these deep shades, to wean us, if possible, from all the airy dreams and siren songs of human feli- city, by which so many thousands are deceived infatuated de- stroyed. It is intended to provoke us to every amiable operation of fympathetic virtue towards our fellow-travellers through this vale NOTES TO NIGHT THE SECOND, of care ; and to lead our views to brighter scenes of never-endin^ peace and joy in future bliss. Notwithstanding the sad variety of wretchedness with which the picture presents us, who can help esteeming that philanthropy, which says, " I would not damp, but to secure, thy joys." V. 390, &c, " Be wise to-day," &c. This is a hint, which no moralist, heathen or Christian, ever failed to press upon our attention. You will meet with it, amidst all the gaiety of an Horace, as well as in the more grave severity of a Persius. Carpe diem : fugit hora ; fugit irrevocabile tempus. Ab hoc momento> pendet eternitas. NIGHT THE SECOND. ONE of the principal views of Poetry, was, to form the manners. To be convinced of this, we have only to consider the particular end of the several species of poetry, and to observe the general prac- tice of the most illustrious poets of antiquity. If either the epic pcem, the ode, tragedy, comedy, or the pastoral, have been em- ployed to different purposes, it is certain that they are made to de- viate from their natural institution ; and that, in the beginning, they all tended to the same end, which was, to render men better. For this beneficial purpose, the reader may expect to meet with a variety of general reflections in this Second Night, on the nature, importance, speed, and value of Time on Friendship and on Death. Ver. 3, &c. " This midnight centinel, with clarion shrill, Emblem of that,'' &c. " I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat, Awake the god of day." Hamlet. " Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes, Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrate, Thi? bird pf dawning singeth all night long : NOTES TO NIGHT THE SECOND. 337 And then, they fay, no spirit walks abroad, The nights are wholesome ; then no planet strikes, No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm ; So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.'' Hamlet. V. 9, &c. ** Life is war, Eternal war with woe." And why ? For the origin of all human misery and woe, consult the Mosaic account of the fall of man from a state of original righteousness. V. 48, &c. " Youth is not rich in time,'' &c. From the bills of mortality, it appears, that one half of the human race die under the age of thirty ! V. 59, &c. " Amufement reigns Man's great demand ; to trifle, is to live." The proper and rational idea of amusement, is, the occasional di- version of the mind from the habit of thinking too intensely ; the modern perversion of it, is, to prevent thinking at all. V. 68, Sec. " When spirits ebb, when liie's enchanting scenes Their lustre lose," &c. What a striking example of this is transmitted to all ages in the history of Cardinal Wolsey ! " This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick about him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root ; And then he falls." V. 141, &c. " Time, in advance," &c. The artist has very judiciously selected one of the most picturesque images in this whole work, on which to employ his pencil. It is an awful considera- tion, and highly calculated to arrest our attention to the amazing difference we cannot but perceive between what is already past, and time, that is yet to come. V. 162, &.c. " Cares are employments,'' c. Our situation in this world requires activity. Idleness is the worst of all diseases; equally injurious to the mind, and to the body. We are placed here by the divine Providence, so as to render industry essential to our X X 338 NOTES TO NIGHT THE SECOND. well-being ; for, without it, neither the necessaries nor the com- forts of our existence can be obtained or enjoyed. *' All is the gift of industry whate'er Exalts, embellishes, and renders life Delightful." V. 1 68, &c. " We thwart the Deity," &c. To feek for hap- piness upon any plan, but that of conformity to the revealed will of Htaven, is of all labour the most in vain. V. 1 88, &c. " He walks with Nature,'' &c. If we might be permitted a correction here, we would rather read> " He walks with Wisdom" &c. The word, Nature, being vague and equivocal, in our opinion, in this application. V. 200, &c. " On the long-destin'd hour, From everlasting ages growing ripe, That memorable hour," &c. The reader of taste and criticism, we presume, will mark thfs whole passage, as a specimen of the sublime and grand, both in fentiment and in expression. The thought is perfectly new and ori- ginal ; and the close of it is in nothing inferior to, what has beea so universally celebrated, " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Ltave not a trace behind." V. 256, &c. " O treacherous conscience," &c. - Volumes could scarcely say more to the purpose on this theme, than is to be found in these few lines. The moral sense must be strangely benumbed in those, who can read them without serious emotion. The mur- derer's account of conscience is, indeed, very finely given by a more ancient writer, when he introduces him saying, " I'll not meddle with it ; it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward : A man cannot steal, but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear, but it checks him. It is a blushing, shame-faced spirit, which mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of ob- stacles, &c. &c." Sbakespear. V. 298, &c. " Man sleeps," &c. It is this astonishing degree NOTES TO NIGHT THE SECOND. 339 of moral insensibility to concerns of everlasting import, which the sacred oracles have represented metaphorically by the sleep, and death, of the soul ; and which divines have therefore called spiritual death. See this very strikingly delineated in some subsequent lines, 338349. V. 360, &c. " Life's little stage," &c. A more pathetic ac- count of the brevity and vanity of our existence in this world, was never given in fewer lines by mortal pen. An inspired writer seems to have been very tenderly impressed with the same sentiments, when he was composing Psalm xxxix. V. 432. " But such our gravitation to the wrong." Heathens saw this ; and therefore they exclaimed, " O curvae in terris animx, & coelestium inanes." V. 458, &c. " Song, fashionably fruitless, &c." Nothing i more universally to be lamented than this sad prostitution of poetical genius. The more exquisite its charms, the more fatal its effects. V. 560, c. " What if (sir.ce daring on so nice a theme) I shew thee friendship," &c. Where is the topic, that has ever been dwelt upon with so much celebration and rapture, as that of friendship ? " How tiresome indeed do all the pleasures of the world appear, when compared with the happiness of a tender, faithful, and enlightened friendship ! that high and intimate connexion of the soul, where our inclina- tions are free, our feelings genuine, our sentiments unbiassed ; where a mutual confidence of thoughts and actions, of pleasures and pains, uninterruptedly prevails ; where the heart is led with joy- along the paths of piety and virtue, and the mind conducted by Hap- piness into the bowers of Truth ; and where ad v ice, consolation, and succour, are reciprocally given and received in all the accidents and sorrows of life !" Our Author has painted the charm in the most inviting colours ; but where, oh ! where, is the treasure to be found ? V. 597, &c. " Like birds,'' &c. In what consummate beauty of imagery is that common remark, that, " We never learn the true value of blessings, but by their loss," conveyed in these few verses ! V. 615, &c. " The death-bed of the just," &c. The reader, who wishes to have his soul animated with the pious ambition, this scene is calculated to inspire, must live, as it were, o'er each line, and .X X 2 340 NOTES TO NIGHT THE THIRD. critically observe how every circumstance of it is delineated, so as- to affect, amend, and improve the human heart. The composition is wonderful, but the moral is inestimable. NIGHT THE THIRD. A CORRECT taste, it has been said, is very much offended with Dr. Young's Night Thoughts ; it observes, that the representation there given of human life is false and gloomy ; that the poetry Sometimes sinks into childish conceits or prosaic flatness, but oftener rises into the turgid, or false sublime ; that it is perplexed and ob- scure ; arid that the general plan of the work is ill laid, and is not happily conducted. So much, for what is called correct taste. It is certain, how- ever, that this work may be read, and is read, with very different sentiments. It may be found, as a judicious writer has remarked, to contain more touches of the most sublime poetry than any lan- guage has produced, and to be full of those pathetic strokes of nature and passion, which touch the heart in the most tender and af- fecting manner. Besides, the mind is sometimes in a disposition to be pleased only with dark views of human life. There are afflictions too deep, to bear either reasoning or amusement. They may be soothed, but cannot be diverted. The fine gloom of the Night Thoughts per- fectly corresponds with this state of mind. It indulges and flatters the present passion, and at the same time proposes those motives of consolation, which alone can render certain griefs supportable. We may here observe that secret and wonderful endearment, which the divine Being has annexed to all our sympathetic feelings. We enter into the deepest scenes of distress and sorrow with a melting soft- ness of heart, far more delightful than all the joys which unthink- ing and dissipated mirth can inspire. After all, there is a sublime of tender melancholy, almost the universal attendant of genius ; and there are many reasons to be assigned, why, in the great scale of things, *' it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting ; for that ia HOTES TO NIGHT THE THIRD. 34.1 the end of all men, and the living will lay. it to heart." " The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools in the house of mirth," " And reeling through this wilderness of joy, Where Sense runs savage, broke from Reason's chain ; And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall.'* Ver. 6, &c. " O lost to virtue,'' &c. " For Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaiVd.'' Milton. V. 145, &c. " Lean not on earth,'' &c. There is no real peace, but that which surpasseth all understanding ; nor any disap- pointless hope, but that which is full of immortality. " The soul, for perfect bliss design'd, Strives in vain that bliss to find, Till, wing'd by Hope, at length it flies Beyond the narrow bounds of earth, and air, and skies.'' V- 165, &c. " For, oh! the curs'd ungodliness of zeal!" From the madness of false zeal, and the ravings of fanaticism, pure religion has received some of its most incurable wounds. Wit- ness the inquisition and crusades of the Romish church, and the en- thusiastic ranters of the last century. Ecclesiastical history will furnish us with too many instances of this sort ; with examples ^suf- ficient to make us tremble ; equally injurious to the cause of reli- gion, and to the rights of society. For, what is genuine Christianity, but a system of divine love ? of that love, which hospitably em- braces the Turk and the Indian ; and which, becoming all things to all men, desireth not the death, but the conversion, of a sinner. V. 226, &c. " HeavVs Sov'reign saves all beings," &c. The exceeding depravity of our common nature, is a subject of deep humiliation, and cries aloud to every one of us, in the language of the son of Sirach, " Pride was not made for man." V. 357, &c. " To cling to this rude rock, Barren, to them, of good," &c. 342 NOTES TO NIGHT THE THIRD. Not to say any thing of the picturesque propriety of all this scenery, see the affecting truth it contains, illustrated at large, in the Author's True Estimate of Human Life, vol. 5th. V. 366, &c. " Virtue she, wonder-working goddess ! charms That rock to bloom," &c. A bad man is wholly the creature of the world. He hangs upon its favour, lives by its smiles, and is happy or miserable in pro- portion to his success. It is the peculiar effect of virtue such as Christian motives inspire to make a man's chief happiness independ- ent on all this. To him, success in worldly undertakings is but a secondary object. To discharge his own part in life with integrity and honour, and to set his affections on things above, that are unseen and eternal, is his supreme aim. To Providence he leaves the rest. " His witness is in heaven, and his reward on high." V. 416, &c. " The mighty basis of eternal bliss." What an importance and grandeur does this fentiment reflect OB human existence ! " Transient, indeed, as is the fleeting hour, And yet, the seed of an immortal flow'r ; Design'd in honour of almighty love, To fill with fragrance his abode above : Its value, what no thought can ascertain, Nor all an angel's eloquence explain." V. 526, &c. " Death is the crown of life ; Were Death denied," &c. How much ought that writer to be esteemed, who has grouped together so many ideas to dissipate the horrors of the tomb, and to reconcile the trembling mind to the inevitable approach of Death ! If any thing can be more supporting, than what is here advanced, it is the sublime and rapturous strain of St. Paul, in the close of the fifteenth chapter of his First Epistle to the Corinthians. In thai reviving view of things, " Thrice welcome, Death ! That after many a painful, bleeding step, Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe On the long-wish'd-for shore. Prodigious change ! Our bane turn'd to a blessing! Death disarm'd Loses his fellness quite. All thanks to HIM, Who scourg'd the venom out." NOTES TO NIGHT THE FOURTH. 343 NIGHT THE FOURTH. a comparative view of the numerous beauties, in each of the Night Thoughts of which there are nine whether in honour of the tuneful nine, or of the graces equal in number, celebrated by an inspired writer, we cannot say Taste, Criticism, and Piety, will surely give the preference to this. Notwithstanding the peculiarity of sentiment, by which a masterly writer of the highest reputation has distinguished himself, we have a proof, in this Night, with what advantage sacred poetry may be devoted to the service of religion. We perfectly agree with this great ornament of our nation, that, of sentiments purely religious, it will be found that the most simple expression is the most sublime. But it does not appear to us, that the ideas of Christian theology are too simple for eloquence, or too majestic for ornament ; nor, that verse can do no more than delight the ear, and assist the memory. The mind, that is not affected with several passages in The Christian Triumph, must be lost to the noblest sensibilities of the human ftoul. Sacred history will, no doubt, be read by the more reflective and serious part of mankind alas ! how few ! with submissive re- verence, and an imagination overawed and controlled. But there are those, and they are the many, with whom amplification is neither useless nor vain. Thousands will be charmed with divine truth, recommended by the embellishments and harmony of verse, who, it is to be feared, disregard it in its native simplicity. Ver. 15, &c. " Man makes a death," &c. " And yet, 'tis sure a serieus thing, to die ! What a strange moment must it be, when near Thy journey's end thou hast the gulph in view That awful gulph, no mortal e'er repass'd, To tell what's doing on the further side. Nature starts back, and shudders at the sight." V. 82, &c. " The world's a stately bark," &c. T^he in- tercourse of the world is the education of vice. Men possess- ed of the best inclinations are surrounded by so many snares and 344 NOTES TO NIGHT THE FOURTH. " dangers, that they all commit some faults every day of their lives, but as they fly from its enchantments to solitude and self-reflection. V. ill, c. " Shall we, shall aged men," &c. When they, who have most reason to be wise, are farthest from it, it sinks the dignity of our common nature ; brings, beyond all other enormities, a reproach upon mankind ; and gives each individual, as a sufferer in the scandal, a just right to censure, if not to condemn. V. 122, &c. " And soon as man," &c. He that has not learned the world, must go out of it, or be made a jest and an un- fortunate in it ; he that has learned it, has learned it by the difcipline of bitter experience ; and, by the time he is well master of the game, his candle is put out. It is hard to learn the world but harder to unlearn it j and, not to unlearn it, will one day prove more fatal. V. 138, &c. " O thou great Arbiter," &c. If there be a cha- racter on earth, that deserves our ambition, or our envy, it is the character of him,, whose heart can breathe out its secret desires in pious effusions, like these. This is that perfection of human ex- cellence, and that consummation of all sublunary felicity, most de- voutly to be wished. V. 144, &c. " What healing hand," &c. From hence, to the end of this Night, let the reader prepare his mind for the richest assemblage of every thing sublime, tender, interesting, and im- portant, in language and sentiment, that the most refined ima- gination can indulge, and the most religious taste can enjoy. There is enough here, to exhaust all the powers of critical and pious admi- ration. It is indeed impossible to believe, on this occaiion, without feeling ; or, to feel without being fired with such a theme j the grand theme, the very line of life, in all divine revelation. V. 249. " A midnight awe ! a dread eclipse." Which a learned man of Greece is said to have observed at that time, and to have exclaimed, " That either the God of nature suffered violence, or, that the frame of the world was about to dissolve." V. 271, &.c. " And did he rise? Hear, O ye nations," c. Nothing can 'exceed the sublimity and grandeur, with which this animating truth is celebrated, by the spirit of prophecy, in the -KOTES TO NIGHT THE FOURT1T. twenty-fourth Psalm. Who can read it, without being transported with the glorious manner, in which the triumphant Conqueror is introduced to the mansions of bliss, by the celestial convoy ! V. 318, &c. " Survey the wondrous cure ; And, at each step, let higher wonder rise.'* Sit down, for once, in more than usual meditation, at the foot of the Redeemer's cross " Oh, stop ! and from the humble base below Cast up thy fearful eyes To where thy Lord, and love, was crucified ! So shall the world, and all its vanities, Appear like dross ambition, lust, and pride, Shall far, far off, their baleful pow'rs remove, And in the pure unspotted mind Nothing remain behind, But adoration, extacy, and praise.'' V. 334. " O what a scale of miracles is here!'' Such a judi- cious selection of capital circumstances, in order to give them an uniting force, is, by an eminent critic, styled, grandeur of manner. And grandeur, being one of the strongest emotions of the human mind, is not easily produced in perfection, but by reiterated impression. The effect of a single impression can be but momentary, and very inferior to that of a grand subject displayed in all its principal parts, and brought together in one comprehensive point of light. The use of repetition never perhaps was shewn to greater ad- vantage than in this unrivalled passage, which may be said to bear away the palm from every other in this whole work. Neither ought it to be unobserved, that every successive circum- stance, in this sublime gradation, revives and enlivens the mind for, by an uninterrupted series of climax, it is raised to the very summit of mental elevation. Every body must have observed the delightful effect of a number of thoughts and sentiments, inge- niously disposed in this ascending series, and making impressions deeper and deeper. The only possible inconvenience to be apprehended, in this case, is, a depression, as sudden and unpleasing, as the elevation is gra- dual and enchanting. That, however, is completely obviated here, by the lines which immediately follow" Bound every heart," &c. Y r NOf ES TO NIGHT THE FOURTH. V. 550, &c. " Religion's all. Descending," &c. This is what the wisest of the mere sons of men, after an accurate survey of the world's inventory, has called, " The Whole of Man ;'' and, what a greater than Solomon has pronounced to be, " The one thing needful." V. 563, &c. " As when a wretch," &c. It is this great doctrine of regeneration, thus poetically illustrated, which the di- vine prophet enforced with so much energy upon the surprised at- tention of Nicodemus. See John, iii. V 575- '* Religion ! thou the soul of happiness." The one thing necessary for happiness, is common to both worlds ; this, and the next. In vain we seek a different receipt for it, one in time, another in eternity. Religion wanting, every thing else becomes ne_ cessary to happiness, and ineffectual. " A good man shall be sa- tisfied from himself alone." A bad man shall be dissatisfied, with all the world at his command. V. 647, c. " Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout ; But when it glows," &c. If there be a God, all our affections are too feeble, all the wings of our soul are too few, to be put forth in pursuit of his favour ; and being languid in devotion, is being solemnly undevout. If there be a God, he gave us OVLY passions, as well as our reason ; they there- fore, as well as reason, should assist in his service. Even angels have their passions; nor are any beings on this side the throne of God exempt from the need of them. V. 731, &c. " All-sacred Reason!" &c. The Deity is all Reason, in nature, conduct, revelation, and commands. The great, invariable, everlasting alternative is, throughout his creation, or reason, or ruin. V. 738, &c. " Reason rebaptiz'd me, when adult ; Weigh'd true, and false," &c. For, when that is preserved, sense submits to reason ; and, when sense submits to reason, reason submits to the revealed word of God. And, I must observe, that reason, stooping to revelation, is reason still only more reasonable j and, its great hazard of error, is all that is lost. V. 742. " On argument alone my faith is 'built." Let us not, however, misunderstand our Author j for, in another place he has NOTES TO NIGHT THE FIFTH. 347 xpresly affirmed, that, " Fallible ratiocination should not be made the grounds of our faith, whose proper basis is, infallible testimony. Nor is it longer faith, than while it rests on that.'' All, therefore, he can mean to say here is, as he explains himself in the line imme- diately subsequent, that, reason, properly pursued, will lead on to faith ; which is no more than the unreserved submission of our understandings, or the sacrifice of our idolized reason, to God. V- 755, &c." Wrong not the Christian ; think not Reason your's j 'Tis Reason,'' Sec. Volumes have been written upon the all-important subjects of rea- son and faith, which have not contained one half the solid and va- luable instruction, to be derived from these few lines. V. 771, &c. " These pompous sons of Reason idoliz'd, And vilify 'd at once,'' &c. The intelligent reader will know, how to apply this inimitable stroke of satire and of wit ; and, with what justice it falls on cha- racters of such immortal infamy and shame, as Bolingbroke, Shafts- bury, Chesterfield, and all the lo\ver tribe of infidelity and vice. The sufficiency of human reason is the golden calf, which these men set up to be worshipped ; and, in the frenzies of their extrava- gant devotion to it, they strike at an oak with on osier the doc- trine of God's own planting, and the growth of ages, with the sudden and fortuitous shoots of vanity and imagination. V. 788. " A Christian is the highest style of Man!" A Christian should let every body see, what an animation there is in Christianity, above all that the world nuy admire besides. Chrifti- anity should be the boast, as well as the comfort, of our hearts. NIGHT THE FIFTH. SOME for pity's sake, we name them not have very ignorantly objected to this inimitable writer, a want of order and method. To which it might be replied, that, " irregularity and want of method are supportable in men of great learning and genius; who are often too full, to be critically exact ; and, therefore, chuse to throw down their pearls in heaps before the reader, rather than be at the paiiu of stringing them." Y Y 2 NOTES TO NIGHT THE FIFTH. Such an apology, however, is quite superfluous. For, as method is of great advantage to a work, both in respect to the writer and reader, it is with pleasure we can discover it, though very inge- niously concealed, in this. If it be not perceived, it must be ascribed to the carelessness of the observer, not to the confusion of the Author. The various subjects here arranged, and discussed, are, " The im- portance of contemplating the tomb ; suicide ; the different kinds of grief; the faults of age ; and Death's dread character." Ver. 5, &c. - " I grant the Muse Has often blush 'd at her degenerate sons." Too many poets have exhausted all the wit, eloquence, and graces, they were masters of, to gloss over such vices and crimes in the most bewitching colours, as must have fallen into general con- tempt, had they not been set off with the ornaments they supplied, as a cover to their deformity and shame. This is the foundation of the just reproaches, which the wise men among -the heathen have thrown upon the poets. Tully him- self complains of Homer in particular, that he has ascribed the frailties of men to the gods, instead of giving the virtues of the gods to men. And it was upon this motive, that Plato banished the poets his republic. V. 49> 50. " The flowers of eloquence, profusely pour'd O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter'd world." " What then are they, whose proud conceits Superior wisdom boast ? Wretches, who fight their own belief, And labour to be lost ! Strict their devotion to the wrong, Though tempted by no prize ; Hard their commandments, and their cretd, A magazine of lies, From Fancy's forge : Gay Fancy smiles At Reason plain and cool 5 Fancy, whose curious trade it is To make the finest fool." V. 79. " In melancholy dipp'd, embrowns the whole." ! Thus o'er the twilight groves, and dusky caves, Long-sounding ailes, and intermingling graves, NOTES TO NIGHT THE FIFTH. 349 Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose : Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades every flower, and darkens every green ; Deepens the murmurs of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods." Pope. V. 97, &c. " O thou, bless'd Spirit !'' &c. If any thing can give real dignity to human nature, in its present low estate, it is this pious elevation of the soul, from dust and earth, to God and heavenly things. V. 164, 165. . " The world 's a school Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around!" " Have angels sinn'd ? and shall not man beware ? How shall a son of earth decline the snare ? Not folded arms, and slackness of the mind, Can promise for the safety of mankind. 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.'' V. 223, &c. " Dearly pays the soul For lodging ill," &c. See this most piously and pathetically lamented, by one of the most distinguished characters, celebrated in the history of the world, in Rom. vii. V. 253, &c. " Grief! more proficients in thy school are made Than Genius, or proud Learning, e'er could boafl." " Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.'' Shakespeare. V. 264, &c. " And what says Genius ?" &c. There is no- thing with which mankind are apt to be more fascinated than Genius .- Forgetting, at the same time, that it is not genius, but the appli- cation of it, that constitutes its intrinsic worth, or otherwise. For, " with the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. If he judges 35 NOTES TO NIGHT THE SIXTH. amiss in the supreme point, judging right in all else, but aggra- vates his folly; as it shews him wrong, though blessed with a capa- city of being right." NIGHT THE SIXTH. Ver. 148, &c. " YE born of earth ! on what can you confer With half the dignity," &c. *' Is all this rapturous ? Yes, such a rapture, as nothing but gross ignorance, or more fatal infidelity, can forbear. Is not rap- ture due for felicities inexpressible ? And what felicity is so much as second to this ? It is the close, frequent, and feeling inspection of these interiora of man's sublime condition, as immortal, and re- deemed^ which is the highest cordial of human joy, and the richest mine of human thought. A mine deep-dug by few ! And yet, without it, man is not more a stranger to the natives of Saturn, than to himself. Without it, he must want the true, genuine, vital pirit of a Christian." V. 213, &c. " The momentary buz of vain renown ! A name !" &c. ' For what so foolish, as the chase of fame ? How vain the prize ! how impotent our aim! For what are men, who grasp at praise sublime, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time That rise, and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born, and forgot, ten thousand in an hour ?" , V. 262, &c. " Fame's flight is Glory's fall Heart-merit wanting," &c. " But own we must, in this perverted age, Who most deserve, can't always most engage. So far is worth from making Glory sure, It often hinders what it should procure. Whom praise we most f The virtuous, brave, and wise ? No; wretches, whom in secret we despise." . V. 277. " Great ill, is an atchievement of great power." NOTES TO NIGHT THE SIXTH. Great men, in the wrong, are powerful engines of mischief; and, like bursting bombs, destroy themselves, and all around them. V. 393, &c. " When blind ambition," &c. It is difficult to say, which is more to be admired, in these few lines the beauty of the composition and imagery, or the utility of the sentiment : Properly regarded, it would make the proudest son of vanity sicke at the thought of his own egregious folly. . V. 442, &c. " O Britain ! infamous for suicide ! An island,'' &c. " Self-murder ! name it not our island's shame, That makes her the reproach of neighb'ring states. Shall Nature, swerving from her earliest dictate, Self-preservation, fall by her own act ? Forbid it, Heaven ! Dreadful attempt ! Just reeking from self-slaughter, in a rage To rush into the presence of our Judge ! As if we challeng'd him to do his worst, And matter'd not his wrath ! Unheard-of tortures Must be reserv'd for such!" What then ought we to think of a celebrated philosopher and historian of our own times, who has consigned his memory to de- served infamy, by a posthumous essay in defence of suicide ? Horresco referent ! V, 468, &c. " Sink into slaves," &c. Does not the doctrine of materialism give a kind of secondary sanction to this brutal de- generacy ? V. 49% &c. " When by the bed of languishment," &c. " Ut piciura. poesis" If this is not painting to the life, what is ? In descriptive poetry, not even Thomson himself has any thing superior to say nothing of its moral uses. V. 573, &c. " 'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains," &c. If such be the astonishing inspiration of a becoming sense of its immortality upon the human soul, how very pitiable was the com- parative ignorance of the unenlightened heathens, in this respect ! and, what infinite obligations are we under to Him, " who hath abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel J" 352 NOTES TO NIGHT THE SIXTH. V. 6o3> &c. " Enthusiastic this? Then all are weak But rank enthusiasts," &c. I cannot forbear this opportunity to observe, that it is a great abuse of language, to call none but religious persons enthusiasts. " Enthusiasm is found in every form and opinion of life. The orator and the poet, the hero and the politician, may all be enthusiasts. Enthusiasm, in the very nature of things, must be of as many kinds, as those objects are, which can kindle and inflame the imaginations, desires, and wills of men : And to appropriate enthu- siasm to religion, is the same ignorance, as to appropriate love to religion : For enthusiasm, or, a kindled, enflamed spirit of life, ia as common, as universal, as love is. The grammarian, the critic, the connoisseur, the antiquary, the philosopher, and the virtuoso, are all of them enthusiasts, though their heat is only a flame for a straw." V. 622, &c. " Are there, who wrap the world so close about them, They see no farther," &c. Mirth at a funeral is scarce more indecent, and unnatural, than a perpetual flight of gaiety, and burst of exultation, in a world like this : A world, which may seem a paradise to fools, but is an hospi- tal with the wise : A world, in which bare escape is a prime feli- city. Effugere, est tr'iumphus. " Go then, forgetful of its toil and strife, Pursue the joys of this fallacious life ; Like some poor fly, who lives but for a day, Sip the fresh dews, and in the sunshine play, And into nothing then dissolve away. Are these our great pursuits ? is this to live ? These all the hopes this much-lov'd world can give ?" V. 65o, &c. " Thou, whose all-providential eye surveys, Whose hand directs," &c. This is that genuine spirit of true devotion, which in all its effort* for the good of mankind, and for personal excellence and felicity, lifts the soul to heaven, for that supernatural assistance, of which its own intellectual weakness, and its impotent exertions, always stand in need. V. 701, &c. " Shall Man alone," &c. See this idea most sub- limely argued in another view ? by an inspired writer, in \ Cor. xv. NOTES TO NIGHT THE SEVENTH. 355 V. 734. " Analogy ! Man's surest guide below." Consult the learned and pious Bishop Butler's admirable illustration of this truth ; which, every man of science and inquiry should blush, not to have read. V. 814, &c. " 'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man. How little they," &c. " No man is really great, till he sees that every thing in this world is little. Great is he, and he alone, who makes the whole creation, and its amazing Cause, the circumference ; and his own true interest, the centre, of his thoughts : Who has strength and steadiness, to weigh in perpetual and in equal balance, right and wrong, body and soul, time and eternity, nature and God ; and so weighing, to disdain any very anxious thought, for less than the greatest good his limited nature admits, and his all-powerful God has promised to bestow." NIGHT THE SEVENTH. Ver. 109. " Is scarce a milder tyrant than Despair." " The ample proposition that Hope makes In all designs begun on earth below, Fails in the promis'd largeness : Checks and disasters Grow in the veins of action, highest rear'd ; As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth." Shakefpear. V. 121. " And makes his hope, his sublunary joy." " The old story of Pandora's box [which many of the learned believe was formed among the Heathens, upon the tradition of the fall of man] shews us, how deplorable a state they thought this present life, without tope. To set forth the utmost condition of misery, they tell us, that our forefather, according to the Pagan theology, had a great vessel presented him by Pandora. Upon his lifting up the lid of it, says the fable, there flew out all the calamities and distempers incident to men, from which, till then, they had been exempt. Hope, who had been inclosed in the cup with so much bad company, instead of flying off with the rest, stuck so close to the lid of it, that it was shut down upon her." z z 354 NOTES TO NIGHT THE SEVENTH. V. 131, &c. " Then With more success the flight of hope survey, Of restless hope, for ever on the wing." " Rise, heavenly visions ! rise, And every vain delusive hope control ; Let real glory charm thine eyes, And real happiness enchant thy soul ! Hail glorious dawn of everlasting day, Though faintly seen !" V. 205, &c. " When to the grave," &c. How admirably is this appeal introduced ! and how much is it calculated to strike the finest feelings of the human soul ! But infidels are as much hardened to every amiable sensibility, as they are lost to the sublime of piety and virtue. V. 290, &c. " Or own the soul immortal," &c. Nothing to be found in human composition, ever exceeded the spirit of these lines, either for pointed energy, or for manly satire. If Infidelity could be shamed out of its brutish affectation and vanity, this alone were sufficient for that benevolent purpose. V. 329. " Reason is guiltless ; Will alone rebels." Or, as a poet of less gravity has differently expressed the same thing, it will be found universally true, that, " He, that's convinc'ci, against his