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 LIFE, DEATH, 
 
 AND 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 BY EDWARD YOUNG, LL. D. 
 
 HAVERHILL : 
 
 PRINTED BY BURRILL «fe HERSKY, 
 
 FOR 37. BURRILL, HAVERHILL ; CUSHING & APPLETOJf 
 
 AND HENRY WHIPPLE, SALEM. 
 
 1820. 
 

 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 DR. EDWARD YOUNG. 
 
 -000- 
 
 THIS celebrated and excellent v/riter Avas the son of 
 Dr. Edward Young, a learned and eminent divine, who 
 was Deanof Sarum, IVllow of Winchester College, and 
 Rector of Upham, in Hampshire. Our author v/as born 
 at Upham, in the year 1681, and bad his education at 
 Winchester College, till he was chosen on the founda- 
 tion of New College, Oxford, October 13, 1703, but re- 
 moved in less than a year to Corpus Christi, v/here he 
 entered himself a Gentleman Commoner. 
 
 Archbishop Tennison put hira into a law feilowsliip 
 in 1708, in the College of All Souls. He took tlie de- 
 gree of Bachelor in 1714, and becams LL. D. in 1719. 
 His tragedy of Busiris came out the same year ; the 
 Revenge in 1721 ; the Brothers in 1723; and soon after 
 his elegant poem of the Last Daj"^, which engaged the 
 greater attention for being written by a layman. The 
 Force of Religion, or Vanquished Love, a poem, also 
 gave much pleasure. These works procured iiim the 
 friendship of some among the nobility, and the patron- 
 age of the Duke of Wharton, by whom he Avas induced 
 io stand a candidate for a seat in parliament for Ciren- 
 cester, but without success. The bias of his mind wau 
 strongly turned towards di^nnity, which drew him away 
 from the law, before he had begun to practise. On his 
 taking orders, he was appointed chaplain in ordinary to 
 George IL in April, 1728? His first work iii his iie^v 
 
IV MEMOIRS OF 
 
 character was a Vindication of Providence, published, 
 as well as his Estimate of Human Life, in quarto. Soon 
 after, in 1730, his College presented him to the rectory 
 of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire, worth 3001. per annum, 
 besides the lordship of the manor which pertained to it. 
 He married Lady Betty Lee, widow of Col. Lee, in 
 1731. She was daughter of the Earl of Litchfield. By 
 her he had a son. 
 
 Notwithstanding the high estimation in which he was 
 held, his familiar intercourse with many of the first rank, 
 his being a great favourite of Frederic Pi'ince of Wales, 
 and paying a pretty constant attendance at court, he 
 never rose to higher preferment ; if, however, we except 
 his being made clerk of the closet to the Princess Dow- 
 ager of Wales in 1761, when he was fourscore years of 
 age. 
 
 His fine poem of the Night Thoughts, it is well known, 
 was occasioned by a family distress ; the loss of his wife 
 and the two children, a son and a daughter, whom she 
 had by her first husband : these all died within a short 
 time of each other in 1741. The son-in-law is charac- 
 terized in this work by the name of Philander, and the 
 young lady, who sunk into a decline through grief for 
 the loss of her mother, by that of Narcissa. He remov- 
 ed her, in hope of her deriving benefit from a warmer 
 climate, to Monlpelier, in the south of France ; but she 
 died soon after their arrival in that city. The circum- 
 stance of his being obliged to bury her in a field by 
 night, not being allowed interment in a church-yard, 
 on account of her being a Protestant, is indelibly re- 
 corded in Night IIL of this divine poem. 
 
 He was upwards of eighty when he wrote his Conjec- 
 tures on Original Composition, in which many beauties 
 appear, notwithstanding the age of its author ; and Re- 
 signation, his last poem, contains proofs in every stanza, 
 that it was not written with decayed faculties. He 
 died at the parsonage-house, at Welwjm, April 12, 1765, 
 aged eighty-four years, and was buried under the altar- 
 piece of that church, by the side of his wife. By his 
 
DR. EDWARD YOUNG. V 
 
 own desire, he was follotved by all the poor of the par 
 ish, without any tolling of the bells^. or any person ap- 
 pearing at his funeral in mourning. He had caused all 
 his manuscripts to be destroj^-ed before his death. He 
 left the whole of his fortune, which was pretty consid- 
 erable, with the exception of a {ew legacies, to his son, 
 Mr. Frederic Young, though he would never see iiim in 
 his lifetime, owing to his displeasnre at his irapi-udent 
 conduct at college, for which he had been expelled. 
 
 His character was that of the true Christian Divine ; 
 his heart was in his profession. It is reported, that, 
 once preaching in his turn at St. James's, and being un- 
 able to gain attention, he sat down, and burst into tears. 
 His conversation was of the same nature as his works, 
 and showed a solemn cast of thought to be natural to 
 him : death, futurity, judgment, eternity, were his com- 
 mon topics. When at home in the country, he spent 
 many hours in the day walking among the graves in the 
 church-yard. In his garden he had an alcove, painted 
 as if with a bench to repose on ; on approaching near 
 enough to discover the deception, the following motto 
 was seen : 
 
 ' Invisihilia non decipiuntJ* 
 ' The unseen things do not deceive us,'* 
 
 In his poem of the Last Day, one of his earliest works, 
 he calls his muse ' the Melancholy Maid, 
 
 ' zvhom dismal scenes delight^ 
 ' Frequent at tomhs^ and in the realms of night.'' 
 
 Grafton is said by Spence to have made him a present 
 of a human skull, with a candle in it, to serve him for 
 a lamp ; and he is reported to have used it. Yet he 
 promoted an assembly and bowling green in his parish, 
 and often attended them. He would indulge in occa- 
 sional sallies of wit, of which his wellknown epigram on 
 Voltaire* is a specimen ; but perhaps there was more of 
 
 * ' Thou art so witty,, projligate^ and thin^ 
 
 Thou seein^st % Milton toUh his Death and Sin^ 
 1* 
 
\Jl iIEMOIP..S, fi'C. 
 
 indignation than pleasantry in it, as his satire was ever 
 pointed against indecency and irreligion. His satires, 
 entitled the Love of Fame, or the Universal Passion, is 
 a great performance. The shafts of his wit are directed 
 against the folly of being devoted to the fashion, and 
 aiming to appear what we are not. We meet here with 
 smoothness of style, pointed sentences, solid sentiments, 
 and the sharpness of resistless truth. 
 
 The Night Thoughts abound in the most exalted 
 flights, the utmost stretch of human thought, Avhich is 
 the great excellence of Young^'s poetry. ' In his Night 
 Thoughts,' says a great critic, ' he has exhibited a very 
 ^ide display of original poetr}^, variegated with deep 
 reflections and striking allusions, a ■wilderness of thought^ 
 in which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every 
 hue and of every odour.'' It must be allowed, howev- 
 er, that many of these fine thoughts are overcast with 
 the gloom of melancholy, so as to have an effect rather 
 to be dreaded by minds of a morbid hue : they paint, 
 notwithstanding, ^vith the most lively fancy, the feel- 
 ings of the heart, the vanity of human things, its fleet- 
 ing honours and enjoyments, and contain the strongest 
 arguments in support of the immortality of the soul. 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY 
 
 To the Right Honourable Arthur Onslow^ Esq. 
 Speaker of the House of Commons. 
 
 TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! 
 He, like the world, his ready visit pays 
 Where fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes : 
 Swift on his downy pinions flies from wo, 
 And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 5 
 
 From short (as usual) and disturbed repose 
 I wake : how happy they who wake no more I 
 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 v/ave to wave of fancied misery 11 
 
 At random drove, her helm of reason lost : 
 Though now restored, 'tis only change of pain, 
 (A bitter change !) severer for severe. 
 The day too short for my distress ; and night, 15 
 
 E'en in the zenith of her dark domain, 
 Is sunshine to the colour of my fate. 
 
 Night, sable goddess 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 ! 
 
8 the; complaint. .Yight I. 
 
 Nor eye nor list'nin^ ear an object finds ; 
 
 Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general 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 I solemn sisters ! twins 
 From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought 
 To reason, and on reason build resolve, 30 
 
 (That column of true majesty in man) 
 Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; 
 The grave your kingdom : there this frame shall fall 
 A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. 
 But what are ye ? 35 
 
 Thou, who didst put to flight 
 Primeval Silence, when the morning stars, 
 Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball ; 
 
 Thou, whose word from solid darkness struck 
 That spark, the sun, strike wisdom from my soul ; 40 
 My soul, which flies to thee, her trust, her treasure, 
 As misers to their gold, while others rest. 
 
 Through this opaque of nature and of soul, 
 This double night, transmit one pitying ray. 
 To lighten and to cheer. O lead my mind, 45 
 
 (A mind that fain wovdd wander from its wo,) 
 Lead it through various scenes of life and death, 
 And from each scene the noblest truths inspire. 
 Nor less inspire my conduct than my song ; 
 Teach my best reason, reason ; my best will 50 
 
 Teach rectitude ; and fix my firm resolve 
 Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear : 
 Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd 
 On this devoted head, be pouvM in vain. 
 
 The bell strikes one. We take no note of time 55 
 But from its loss : to give it then a tongue 
 Js wise in man. As if an angel spoke, 
 
 1 feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, 
 It is the knell of my departed hours. 
 
 Wjiere are they ? With the years bej'ond the flood. CO 
 
ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. i» 
 
 It is the signal that demands despatch : 
 
 How much is to be done ! My hopes and fears 
 
 Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge 
 
 Look down — on whatf A fathomless abyss; 
 
 A dread eternity ! how surely mine ! 65 
 
 And can eternity belong to me, 
 
 Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour ? 
 
 How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
 How complicate, how wonderful is man ! 
 How passing wonder HE who made him such ! 70 
 
 Who centered in our make such strange extremes ! 
 From different natures, marvellously mix'd, 
 Connexion exquisite of distant worlds ! 
 Distinguished link in being's endless chain ! 
 Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 75 
 
 A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt ! 
 Though sullied and dishonour'd, still divine ! 
 Dim miniature of greatness absolute ! 
 An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! 
 Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! 80 
 
 A worm ! a god ! — I tremble at myself, 
 And in myself am lost. At home, a stranger. 
 Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast. 
 And wond'ring at her own. How reason reels ! 
 O what a miracle to man is man, 85 
 
 Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy ! what dread ! 
 Alternately transported and alarm'd ! 
 What can preserve my life ? or what destroy ? 
 An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave ; 
 Legions of angels can't confine me there. 90 
 
 'Tis past conjecture : all things rise in proof. 
 While o'er my limbs sleep's soft dominion spread, 
 What though my soul fantastic measures trod 
 O'er fairy fields, or mourn'd along the gloom 
 Of pathless woods, or, down the craggy steep 95 
 
 Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool, 
 Or scaled the cliff, or danced on hollow winds 
 W^ith antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ? 
 Her ceaseless flight, tho' devious, speaks her nature 
 
10 THE COMPLAINT. Night I. 
 
 Of subtler e&sence than the trodden clod, 100 
 
 Active, aerial, towering, unconfined, 
 
 UnfetterM with her gross companion's fall. 
 
 E'en silent night proclaims m}^ soul immortal : 
 
 E'en silent night proclaims eternal day. 
 
 For human weal Heav'n husbands all events : 105 
 
 Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. 
 
 Why then their loss deplore that are not lost ? 
 Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around 
 In infidel distress ? Are angels there ? 
 Numbers, raked up in dust, ethereal fire ? 110 
 
 They live ! they greatly live a life on earth 
 Unkindled, unconceived ; and from an eye 
 Of tenderness let heav'nly pity fall 
 On me, more justly number'd with the dead. 
 This is the desert, this the solitude : 115 
 
 How populous, how vital is the grave ! 
 This is creation's melancholy vault. 
 The vale funereal, the cypress sad gloom, 
 The land of apparitions, empty shades ! 
 All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond lj20 
 
 Is substance ; the i-everse is folly's creed : 
 How solid all where change shall be no more ! 
 
 This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, 
 The twilight of our day, the vestibule. 
 Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, 1*25 
 
 Strong Death, alone can heave the massj"- bar. 
 This gross impediment of clay remove, 
 And make us embryos of existence free. 
 From real life, but little more remote 
 Is he, not yet a candidate for light, 130 
 
 The future embryo, slumb'ring in his sire. 
 Embryos we must be till we burst the shell, 
 Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, 
 The life of gods (O transport!) and of man. 
 
 Yet man, fool man, here buries all his thoughts ; 13 
 Inters celestial hopes without one sigh : 
 "Pris'ner of earth, and pent beneath iha moon, 
 Here pinions all his wishes ; wing'd by Heav'n 
 
ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 1 2 
 
 To fl\' at infinite, and reach it there, 
 
 Where seraphs gather immortahty, 140 
 
 On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. 
 
 What golden joys Eimbrosial clustering glow 
 
 In his full beam, and ripen for the just, 
 
 Where momentary ages are no more ! 
 
 Where Time, and Pain, and Chance, and Death expire I 
 
 And is it in the flight of threescore years 146 
 
 To push eternity from human thought. 
 
 And smother souls immortal in the dust ? 
 
 A soul immortal, spending all her fires. 
 
 Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 150 
 
 Thrown into tumult, raptured or alarm'd 
 
 At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, 
 
 Resembles ocean into tempest wrought. 
 
 To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. 
 
 Where falls this censure ? It overwhelms myself. 155 
 How was ray heart incrusted by the world I 
 O how self-fetterM was my grov'ling sauI I 
 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 160 
 
 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 ?) 16(? 
 
 Of joys perpetual in perpetual change ! 
 Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave I 
 Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! 
 How richly were my noontide trances hung 
 With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys I 170 
 
 Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! 
 Till at Death's toll, whose restless iron tongue 
 Calls daily for his millions at a meal. 
 Starting I woke, and found myself undone. 
 Where now my frenzy's pompous furniture ? 175. 
 
 The cobwebb'd cottage, with its ragged wall 
 Of monld'ring mud, is royalty to me ! 
 
12 THfE COMPLAINT. JVtght I.> 
 
 The spider's most attenuated thread 
 Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
 On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze. 180 
 
 O ye blest scenes of permanent delight I 
 Full above measure ! lasting beyond bound ! 
 A perpetuity of bliss is bliss. 
 Could you, so rich in rapture, fear an end, 
 That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy, 185 
 And quite unparadise the realms of light. 
 Safe are you lodged above these rolling spheres ; 
 The baleful influences of whose giddy dance 
 Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. 
 Here teems with revolutions every hour, IffOj 
 
 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 sithe, whose ample sweep 
 Strikes empires from the root: each moment plays -195' 
 His little weapon in the narrower sphere 
 Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down 
 The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. 
 
 Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! — proud words, and vain I 
 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, 
 O had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace ! 
 What darts of agony had missM my heart ! 
 
 Death ! great proprietor of all ! 'tis thine 20;' 
 
 To tread out empire, and to quench the stars. 
 The sun himself by thy permission shines, 
 And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere. 
 Amidst such mighty plunder, why exhaust 
 Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean ? 21® 
 
 Why thy peculiar rancour wreck'd on me ? 
 Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? 
 Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain ; 
 And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn. 
 O Cynthia ! why so pale ? dost thou lament 21o 
 
 Thy wretched neighbour ? grieve to sec thy wlicel 
 
ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 1 3 
 
 Of ceaseless change outwhirl'd in human life I 
 
 How wanes mj borrowed bliss ! from Fortune's smile. 
 
 Precarious courtesy ! not virtue's sure, 
 
 Self-given, solar, ray of sound delight. 220 
 
 In ev'ry varied posture, place, and hour, 
 How widow'd ev'ry thought of ev'ry joy ! 
 Thought, busy thought I too busy for my peace ! 
 Through the dark postern of time long elapsed. 
 Led softly, by the stillness of the night, 225 
 
 Led, like a murderer, (and such it proves !) 
 Strays (wretched rover I) 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 num'rous train I 230 
 
 I rue the riches of my former fate ; 
 Sweet Comfort's blasted clusters I lament ; 
 I tremble at the blessings once so dear, 
 And ev'ry pleasure pains me to the heart. 
 
 Yet why complain ? or why complain for one ? 235 
 Hangs out the sun his lustre but for me. 
 The single man ? are angels all beside ? 
 I mourn for millions ; 'tis the common lot : 
 In this shape or in that has Fate entail'd 
 The mother's throes on all of woman bom, 240 
 
 Not more the children than sure heirs of pain. 
 
 War, famine, pest, volcano, storm, and fire. 
 Intestine broils, Oppression, with her heart 
 Wrapt up in triple brass, besiege mankind. 
 God's image, disinherited of day, 245. 
 
 Here, plunged in mines, forgets a sun was made ; 
 There, beings, deathless as Iheir havighty lord, 
 Are hammer'd to the galling oar for life ; 
 And plough the winter's wave, and reap despair. 
 Some for hard masters, broken under arms, 250 
 
 In battle lopp'd away, with half their limbs, 
 Beg bitter bread through realms their valour saved, 
 If so the tyrant or his minion doom. 
 Want and incurable disease, (fell pair !) 
 On hopeless multitudes remorseless seize 255 
 
 o 
 
1 4 THE COMPLAINT. JVlgkt I. 
 
 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 ! j 
 
 Ye silken sons of Pleasure ! since in pains j 
 
 You rue more modish visits, visit here, 
 
 And breathe from your debauch ; give, and reduce 
 
 Surfeits dominion o'er you. But «o great 265 ^ 
 
 Your impudence, you blush at what is right. 
 
 Happy ! did sorrow seize on such alone : 
 Not prudence can defend, or virtue save ; 
 Disease invades the chastest temperance. 
 And punishment the guiltless ; and alarm, 270 j 
 
 Through thickest shades, pursues the fond of peace. 
 Man's caution often into dangei' turns, 
 And, his guard falling, crushes him to death. 
 Not happiness herself makes good her name ; 
 Our very wishes give us not our wish. S75! 
 
 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 re.st. 
 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 Avaste, 
 Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands ! 
 Wild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death. 
 Such is earth's melancholy map ! but far 
 More sad ! this earth is a "true map of man : 290 
 
 So bounded are its haughty lord's delights 
 To wo's wide empire, where deep troubles toss, 
 Loud sorrows howl, enVenom'd passions bite. 
 Rav'nous calamitJes ovv vitals sei/e. 
 
ON. LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITV. 15 
 
 And threafning; Fate wide opens to devour. 295 
 
 What then am 1, who sorrow for myself? 
 In age, in infanc}-, from others' aid 
 Is all our hope ; to teach us to be kind — 
 That Nature's first, last lesson to mankind : 
 The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels : 300 
 
 More gen'rous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts ; 
 And conscious virtue mitigates the pang. 
 jVor virtue more than prudence bids me gi%'e 
 Swoln thought a second channel ; who divide, 
 They weaken, too, the torrent of their grief. 305 
 
 Take, then, O world I thy much indebted tear ; 
 How sad a sight is human happiness 
 To those whose thought can pierce beyond an hour ! 
 
 thou ! whatever thou art, whose heart exults ! 
 Would 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 pleased ; 
 
 Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain. 
 
 Misfortune, like a creditor severe, ' 
 
 But rises in demand of her delay ; 
 
 6he 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 ; 
 And should alarm us full as much as woes ; 
 Awake us to their cause and consequence, 
 
10 THE COMPLAINT. jYight I. 
 
 And malte lis tremble, weighed with our desert ; 
 
 Awe Nature''s tumult, and chastise her joys, 335 
 
 Lest while we clasp, we kill them ; nay, invert 
 
 To worse than simple misery their charms. 
 
 Revolted joys, like foes in civil war. 
 
 Like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, 
 
 With rage envenomM rise against our peace. 340 
 
 Beware what earth calls happiness ; beware 
 
 All joys but joys that never can expire. 
 
 Who builds on less than an immortal base, 
 
 Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. 
 
 Mine died with thee, Philander ! thy last sigh 345 
 Dissolved the charm ; the disenchanted earth 
 Lost all her lustre. Where her 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 outcast earth, in darkness ! what a change 
 From yesterday ! Thy darling hope so near, 
 (Long laboured prize !) O how ambition flush'd 
 Thy glowing cheek ! ambition, truly great, 
 Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within, 355 
 (Sly, treacherous miner !) M^orking in the dark, 
 Smiled at thy well-concerted scheme, and beckon'd 
 The worm to riot on that rose so red, 
 Unfaded ere it fell ; one moment's pre}^ ! 
 
 Man's foresight is conditionally wise ; 360 
 
 Lorenzo ! wisdom into folly turns 
 Oft the first instant its idea fair 
 To labouring thought is born. How dim our eye '. 
 The present moment terminates o\u' sight ; 
 Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the next ; 
 We penetrate, we prophesy in vain. 366 
 
 Time is dealt out by particles, and each. 
 Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life, 
 By Fate' s inviolable oath is sworn 
 Deep silence, ' Where eternity begins.' 370- 
 
 By Nature's law, what maj^ be, may be now; 
 There's no prerogative in human hours, 
 
O'H LIFE, DEATH, AND IMBIORTALITY. 1 7 
 
 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 ; eind yet on this Perhaps, 
 
 This Peradventure, infamous for lies, 
 
 As on a rock of adamant we btiild 
 
 Our mountain-hopes, spin out eternal schemes, 380 
 
 As we the Fatal Sisters could outspin, 
 
 And, big with life's futurities, expne. 
 
 Not e'en Philander had bespoke his shroud. 
 Nor had he cause ; a warning was denied : 
 How many fall as sudden, not as safe ; 385 
 
 As sudden, though for years admonish'd home ! 
 Of human ills the last extreme beware ; 
 Beware, Lorenzo ! a slow sudden death. 
 How dreadful that deliberate surprise ! 
 Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer : t 390 
 
 Next day the fatal precedent will plead ; 
 Thus on, till "vvisdom is push'd out of life. 
 Procrastination is the thief of time ; 
 Year after year it steals, till all are fled, 
 And to the mercies of a moment leaves 395 
 
 The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 
 If not so freqraent, would not this be strange ? 
 That 'tis 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 paylheiafielves the compliment to think 
 They one day shall not drivel, and their pride 
 On this reversion takes up ready praise ; 
 At least their own ; their future selves applauds : 405 
 How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! 
 Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails ; 
 That lodged in Fate's, to wisdom they consign ; 
 The thing they can't but purpose they postpone : 
 'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool ; 410 
 
 And scarce in human wisdom to do mOre. 
 
18 THE COMPLALVT. ^Vigilt L 
 
 All promise is poor dilatory man, 
 
 And that through ev'ry stage : when young, indeed, 
 
 In full content we sometimes nobly rest, 
 
 Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish, 415 
 
 As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 
 
 At thirty, man suspects himself a fool ; 
 
 Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; 
 
 At fifty, chides his infamous delay, 
 
 Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 420 
 
 In all the magnanimity of thought 
 
 Kesolves, 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 ; 
 But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, 
 Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft no trace is found, 
 As from the wing no scar the sky retains, 
 The parted wave no furrov/ from the keel, • 430 
 So dies in human hearts the thought of death. 
 E'en with the terwler 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 I — But should I give it vent, 436 
 The longest night, though longer far, v/ovild faiJ, 
 
 And the lark hsten to my m.idnight song. 
 
 The sprightly lark's shrill maten wakes the mom ; 
 Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast, 
 
 1 strive, with Avakeful melody, to cheer 440 
 The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like tilee, ' 
 
 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 through 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 wo ! 
 
 I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. 
 
 Dark, though not blind, like thee, Maeonides ! 450 
 
ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 1 9 
 
 Or, Milton, thee ! ah, could I reach your strain ! 
 
 Or his who made Maeonides our own. 
 
 Man, too, he sung ; immortal man I sing. 
 
 Oft bursts my song beyond the bounds of life ; 
 
 What now but immortality can please ? 455 
 
 O had he pressed his theme, pursued the track 
 
 Which opens out of darkness into day ! 
 
 O had he, mounted on his wing of fire. 
 
 Soared where I sink, and sung immortal man, 
 
 How had it blest mankind, and rescued me ! 460 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT II. 
 
 ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP 
 
 To the Right Honourable the Earl of Wilmington. 
 
 WHEN the cock crew he wept, — smote by that eje 
 Which looks on me, on all ; that Pow'r who bids 
 This midnight sentinel, with clarion shrill, 
 (Emblem of that which shall awake the dead) 
 Ronse souls from slumber into thoughts of Heav'n. t* 
 Shall I too weep ? M'here then is fortitude ? 
 And, fortitude abandoned, 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 wo : who bears it best 10 
 
 Deserves it least. — On other themes Pll dwell. 
 Lorenzo ! let me turn my thoughts on thee, 
 And thine on themes may profit ; profit there 
 Where most thy need : themes, too, the genuine growth 
 Of dear Philander's dust. He thus, though dead, 15 
 May still befriend — What themes ? Timers 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 disengaged, 
 The good deed would delight me ; half impress 20 
 
 On my dark cloud an Iris, and from grief 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. " 21 
 
 Call glory. — Dost thou moum Philauder'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 squandered, v/isdom''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 pris''ner 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 calPd 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 
 
 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 ; 
 Part with it as with money, sparing ; pay 
 No moment, but in purchase of its worth ; 50 
 
 And what its worth, ask death-beds ; they can tell. 
 Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
 With holy hope of nobler time to come : 
 Time higher aim'd, still nearer the great mark 
 Of men and angels ; virtue more divine. 55 
 
 Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain ? 
 (These Heaven benign in vital union binds) 
 And sport we like the natives of the bough, 
 When vernal suns inspire ? Amusement reign = 
 
22 THE COMPLAINT. Kight II. 
 
 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 ! '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, 60 
 
 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 oiF 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 ? 
 He pleads time's numerous blanks ; he loudly pleads 
 The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. 
 From whom those blanks and trifles but from thee ? 
 No blank, no trifle. Nature made, or meant. 80 
 
 Virtue, or purpos'd 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 ! ev'ry 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 : 
 'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer ; 
 Guard well thy thought : our thoughts are heard in 
 heav'n. 95 
 
 On all important time, through every age, 
 Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urged ; the man 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP, 23 
 
 Is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour. 
 
 ' Pre lost a day' — the prince who nobly cried, 
 
 Had been an emperor without his crown ; 100 
 
 Of Rome ? say rather lord of human race I 
 
 He spoke as if deputed by mankind. 
 
 So should all speak : so reason speaks in all : 
 
 From the soft whispers of that God in man, 
 
 Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly, 105 
 
 For rescue from the blessings we possess ? 
 
 Time, the supreme ! — Time is eternity ; 
 
 Pregnant with all eternity can give ; 
 
 Pregnant vnth all that makes archangels smile. 
 
 Who murders Time, he crushes in the birth 110 
 
 A pow'r ethereal, only not adored. 
 
 Ah ! how unjust to Nature and himself 
 Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man ! 
 Like children babbling nonsense in their sports, 
 We censure Nature for a span too short ; 115 
 
 That span too short we tax as tedious too ; 
 Torture invention, all expedients tire, 
 To lash the ling'ring moments into speed. 
 And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves. 
 Art, brainless art ! our furious charioteer, 120 
 
 (For Nature's voice unstifled would recal) 
 Drives headlong towards 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 charriot-wheals ; 125 
 
 How heavily we drag the load of life I 
 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 deatli kindly tenders us relief, 135 
 
 We call Inm auel ; years to moments shrink. 
 
24 THE COMPLAINT. JVight II. 
 
 Ages to years. The telescope is turn'd. 
 
 To man's false optics (from his folly false) 
 
 Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
 
 And seems to creep decrepit with his age ; 140- 
 
 Behold him when 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 ; 145 
 To Nature just, their cause and cure explore. 
 Not short Heav'n's bounty ; boundless our expense ; 
 No niggard Nature ; men are prodigals. 
 We waste, not use, our time : we breathe, not live. 
 Time wasted is existence, used is -life ; 150* 
 
 And bare existence, man, to live ordain'd, 
 Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight. 
 And why ? since time was given for use, not waste, 
 EnjoinM to fly ; with tempest, tide, and stars, 
 To keep his speed, nor ever wait for man ; 155- 
 
 Time's use was doom'd a pleasure, waste a pain ; 
 That man might feel his error if unseen, 
 And feeling, fly to labour for his cure ; 
 Not blund'ring, split on idleness for ease. 
 Life's cares are comforts ; such by Heav'n designed ; 160 
 He that hath none must make them, or be wretched. 
 Cares are employments ; and without employ 
 The soul is on a rack ; the rack of rest, 
 To souls mo?* adverse ; action all their joy. 
 
 Here, then, the riddle marked above unfolds ; 16;?^ 
 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 ; 
 Lavish of lustrums, and yet fond of life ; 
 Life we think long and short ; death seek and shun : 
 
ox TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 25 
 
 Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, 175 
 
 United jar, and yet are loth to part. 
 
 O the dark days of vanity I while here 
 How tasteless ! and how terrible when gone I 
 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 used. The man who consecrates his hours 185 
 By vig^ous 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 ; 190 
 
 And thy great gain from urging his career. — 
 All-sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, 
 He looks on time as nothing. Nothing else 
 Is truly man's ; '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 destined hour, 200 
 
 From everlasting ages growing ripe, 
 That memorable hour of wondrous birth, 
 When the Dread Sire, on emanation bent, 
 And big with Nature, rising in his might, 
 Call'd forth creation (for then Time was born) 205 
 By Godhead streaming through a thousand worlds ; 
 Not on those terms, from the great days of 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 ; 
 That horologe machinery divine. 
 
 Hours, days, and months, and years, his children, plar. 
 3 
 
26 THE COMPLAINT. Night 11. 
 
 Like numerous wings, around him, as he flies : 
 
 Or rather, as unequal plumes, they shape 21S' 
 
 His ample pinions, swift as darted flame, 
 
 To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest, 
 
 And join anew Eternity his sire ; 
 
 In his immutability to nest. 
 
 When worlds, that count his circles now, unhinged, 220 
 
 (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 ruflled 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 
 As Solomon, more sumptuous to the sight ! 
 Ye delicate ! who nothing can support. 
 Yourselves most insupportable ! for whom 
 The winter rose must blow, the sun put on 240 
 
 A brighter beam in Leo ; silky-soft 
 Favonius breathe still softer, or be chid ; 
 And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song. 
 And robes, and notions, framed in foreign looms ! 
 O ye Lorenzos of our age ! who deem 245 
 
 One moment unamused 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 follies and relays of joy, 250 
 
 To drag your patient through the tedious lengfb 
 Of a short winter's day say, sages, say 5 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 27 
 
 Wit's oracles ; saj, dreamers of gay dreams ; 
 
 How will you weather an eternal night 
 
 Where such expedients fail ? 255 
 
 O treachVous 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 slackeu'd rein, 
 And give us up to license, unrecalPd, 260 
 
 Unmark'd ; — see, from behind her secret stand, 
 The sly informer minutes evVy fault, 
 And her dread diary with horror fills. 
 Not the gross act alone employs her pen : 
 She reconnoitres Fancy's airy band, 265 
 
 A watchful foe ! the formidable spy. 
 Listening, o'erhears the whispers of our camp, 
 Our dawning purposes of heart explores, 
 And steals our embryos of iniquity 
 As all-rapacious usurers conceal 270 
 
 Their Doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs ; 
 Thus, with indulgence most severe, she treats 
 Us spendthrifts of inestimable time ; 
 Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied ; 
 In leaves more durable than leaves of brass 275 
 
 Writes our whole history, which death shall read 
 In 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 v/ise 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, 
 Sui-e vice must butcher. O what heaps of slain 
 Cry out for vengeance on us ! Time destroy 'd ?flO 
 
 is suicide, where more than blood h spilt. 
 
28 THE COMPLAINT. Night U. 
 
 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, wingM despatch, 
 
 And ardent energy, supinely yawns ? — 
 
 Man sleeps, and man alone ; and man whose fate, 
 
 Fate irreversible, entire, extreme. 
 
 Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulf 300 
 
 A moment trembles ; drops ! and man, for whom 
 
 All else is in alarm ; man, the sole cause 
 
 Of this surrounding storm ! and yet he sleeps. 
 
 As the storm rock'd to rest. — Throw years aivay ? 
 
 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 re-import 
 
 The period past, re-give 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 returned ; returned 
 Fnll-power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, 
 And reinstate us on the rock of peace. 
 Let it not share its predecessor's fate, 
 Nor, like its eldest sisters, die a fool. 3^0 
 
 Shall it evaporate in fume, fly oft* 
 Fuhginous, 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 : 225 
 You know him : he is near you : pcrinthim out. 
 Shall I see glories beaming from his brow. 
 Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? 
 Your golden wings, now hov'ring o'er him, shed 
 Protection ; now are waving in applause 330 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. ^9 
 
 To that blest son of foresight ; lord of fate ! 
 
 That awful independent on to-morrow ! 
 
 Whose work is done ; who triumphs in the past ; 
 
 Whose yesterdays look 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 expired ; 
 
 Renounced all correspondence with the skies : 
 
 Our freedom chain'd ; quite wingless our desire ; 
 
 In sense dark-prisonM all that ought to soar ; 
 
 Prone to the centre ; crawling in the dust ; 345 
 
 Dismounted ev^'ry great and glorious aim ; 
 
 Embruted evVy faculty divine : 
 
 Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world, 
 
 The world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls, 
 
 Souls elevate, angelic, wingM with fire 350 
 
 To reach the distant skies, and triumph there 
 
 On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters 
 
 changed ; 
 Though we from earth, ethereal they that fell. 
 Such veneration due, O man, to man. 
 
 Who venerate themselves the world despise. 35r 
 
 For what, gay friend, is this escutcheonM world, 
 Which hangs out death in one eternal night ? 
 A night, that glooms us in the roon-tide ray. 
 And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud. 
 Life's little stage is a small eminence, 360 
 
 Inch-high the grave above ; that home of man. 
 Where dwells the multitude ; we gaze around ; 
 We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while 
 We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplored ; 
 Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot ! 365 
 
 Is death at distance ? No : he has been on thee ; 
 And giv'n sure earnest of his final blow. 
 Those hours which lately smiled, where are they now ' 
 3* 
 
■30 THE COMPLAINT. jVight U 
 
 Pallid to thousfht, and ghastlj'- ! droAvn'd, all drown'd 
 
 In that great deep, which nothing disembogues ! 370 
 
 And, dying, thej bequeathed thee small renoM^n. 
 
 The rest are on the wing : how fleet their flight ! 
 
 Already has the fatal train took fire ; 
 
 A moment, and the world's blown up to thee ; 
 
 The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. 375 
 
 'Tis 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 knoAv it vain ; 
 ' And by success are tutor'd to despair.' 
 Nor is it only thus, but must be so. 385 
 
 Who knows not this, though grey, is still a child. 
 jjoose then from earth the grasp of fond desire, 
 AVeigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. 
 
 Art thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage, 
 Nor give tliy 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 
 
 Since then (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown) 
 We, sore amazed, from out Earth's ruins crawl. 
 And rise to fate extreme of foul or fair, 
 As man's own choice, (controller of the skies) 
 As man's despotic AvilJ, 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 wliich struck, 
 O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale. 
 
■^.V TIME, DEATH, AIvD FRIENDSHIP. 61 
 
 'Crev.'hile high-flush'd ^vith insolence and v/ine ? 
 
 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, Avhile it lasts, is emptier than my shade.' 
 
 Its silent language such ; nor need'st thou call 
 
 Thy magi to decipher what it means. 
 
 Know, like the Median, Fate is in thy walls ; 415 
 
 Dost ask how ? whence ? Belshazzar-iike amazed ! 
 
 Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death ; 
 
 Life feeds the murderer : ingrate ! he thrives 
 
 On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. 
 
 But here, Lorenzo, the delusion lies ; 420 
 
 That solar shadow, as it measures life. 
 It life resembles too : Life speeds away 
 From point to point, though seeming to stand still. 
 The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth ; 
 Too subtle is the movement to be seen ; . 425 
 
 Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. 
 Warnings point out our danger ; gnomons, time ; 
 As these are useless when the sun is set ; 
 So those, but when more glorious reason shines. 
 Reason should judge in all ; in reason's eye, 430 
 
 That sedentary shadow travels hard : 
 But such our gravitation to the wrong. 
 So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
 'Tis later with the wise than he's aware : 
 A Wihnington goes slower than the sun ; 43h 
 
 And all mankind mistake their time of day ; 
 E'en age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown 
 in furrov/'d brows. So gentle's 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 rest ; 445 
 
 The disappointment of a proinised hour. 
 
32 lilE OOAIPLAIAT. jVigkt IL 
 
 On this or similar, Piiilander, lliou, 
 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 cooPd our passions by the breezy stream I 
 How often thaw''d and shorten'd winter's eve, 
 By conflict kind, that struck our 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, 'tis thrown away, 
 Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song ; 
 Song, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains 
 The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires, 
 Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane. 460 
 
 Know'st thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains ? 
 As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flow'rs. 
 Bo men from friendship, Avisdom and delight ; 
 Twins tied by Nature ; if ihej 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 ail, sweet speech had been denied : 
 Speech, thought's canal ! speech, thought's criterion too ! 
 Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross ; 
 When coin'd in word, we know its real worth : 471 
 If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 
 'Twill buy thee benefit, perhaps renown. 
 Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possessed ; 
 Teaching we learn, and giving we retain 475 
 
 The births of intellect ; v/hen 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 
 
 Plunged to the hilts in venerable tom^s. 
 And rusted in ; who might have borne an edge. 
 And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech ! 
 If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue ] 
 "'TIS thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate push 
 
ON TIME, DEATJI, AND FRIENDSHIP. 33 
 
 Of waves conflicting;, breaks the learned scum, 486 
 
 And defecates the student's standing pool. 
 
 In conteniplation is his proud resource ? 
 
 'Tis poor,' as proud, by converse unsustainM. 
 
 Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field ; 490 
 
 Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit 
 
 •"Of due restraint, and emulation's spur 
 
 GiAes graceful energy, by rivals awed. 
 
 'Tis converse qualifies for solitude, 
 
 As exercise for solitary 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 ; 
 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, 505 
 
 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 I never pluck'd by one. 
 Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give 5lO 
 
 To social man true relish of himself. 
 Full on ourselves deiscending in a line. 
 Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight : 
 Delight intense is taken by reboimd ; 
 Reverberated pleasures fire the breast. 515 
 
 Celestial happiness I 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. 
 Beware the counterfeit ; in passion's flame 
 Hearts melt, but melt like ice, soon harder froze. 
 True Itjve strikes root in reason, paasion's foe ; 
 
34 THE COMPLAINT. Night II. 
 
 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 emulouslj rapid in her race. 
 
 O the soft enmity ! endearing strife I 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 floAv'r of heavenly seed, 535 
 The wise extract earth's most Hyblean bliss, 
 Superior v/isdom, crown'd with smiling joy. 
 
 But for whom blossoms this Elysian iiower ? 
 Abroad they find who cherish it at home. 
 Lorenzo, pardon what my love extorts, 540 
 
 An honest love, and not afraid to frown. 
 Though choice of follies fasten on the great, 
 None clings more obstinate than fancy fond, 
 That sacred friendship is their easy prey, 
 Caught by the wafture of a golden lure, 545 
 
 Or fascination of a high-born smile. 
 Their smiles, the great and the 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 I 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. 
 Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 5ba 
 
 Lorenzo, pride repress, nor hope to find 
 A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 
 All like the purchase, {ew the price will pay ; 
 Ami tliis makes friends sucli miracles below. 
 
 What if (since daring on so nice a theme) 560 
 
 J show thee friendship delicate as dear, 
 Of tender violations apt to die ? 
 Reserve will wound it, and distrust destroy; 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 35 
 
 Deliberate on all things with thy friend : 
 
 But since friends grow not thick on ev'ry bough, 566 
 
 Nor ev'rj 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 I 
 
 A friend is worth all hazards we can run. 
 
 ' Poor is the friendless master of a world : 
 
 A world in purchase for a friend is gain.' 575 
 
 So sung he, (angels hear that an^^el 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 so lute, and ever-laughing eye. 
 He drank long health and virtue to his friend ; 
 His friend I 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 
 
 ! for the bright complexion, cordial warmth. 
 And elevating spirit of a friend, 
 
 For twenty summers ripening by my side ; 
 
 All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; 
 
 All social virtues rising in his soul ; 590 
 
 As crystal clear, and smiling as they rise ! 
 
 Here nectar flov/s ! 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? 
 Am I too warm ? — Too warm I cannot be. 
 
 1 loved 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 brrs'htcn as they fake their flight ! 
 
36 THE COMPLAINT. JVigJlt IL 
 
 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, 
 
 Rivals scarce damn, and Zoilus reprieve. 
 
 Yet v/hat 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 unawaked, 
 
 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 : 
 
 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 beneath 
 Aerial groves' impenetrable gloom. 
 Or in some mighty ruin's solemn shade, 62ii 
 
 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, awed, the temple of my fame. 630 
 
 Is it his deatji-bed ? No ; it is his shrine : 
 Behold him there just rising to a god. 
 
 The chamber where the good man meets his fate 
 Is privileged beyond the common walk 
 Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heav'n. 635 
 
 Fly, ye profane ! if not, draw near with awe,,. 
 P»eceive the blessing, and adore the cHance 
 That threAv in this Bethesda your disease : 
 If unrestored by this, despair your cure ; 
 For here resistless demonstration dwells : 640 
 
 A death-bed'-; a detector of the heart. 
 
ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 37 
 
 Here tired dissimulation drops her mask 
 
 Through Ufe's grimace, that mistress of the scene I 
 
 Here real and apparent are the same. 
 
 You see the man, you see his hold on heav'n, 645 
 
 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 sovereign powV ! 
 
 To vice confusion, and to virtue peace. '. 650 
 
 Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, 
 Virtue alone has majesty in death. 
 And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. 
 Philander ! he severely frownM on thee ; 
 ' No warning giv'n ! unceremonious fate I 655 
 
 A sudden rush from life's meridian joys ! 
 A wrench from all we love ! from all we are ! 
 A restless bed of pain I a plunge opaque 
 Beyond conjecture ! feeble nature's dread ! 
 Strong reason's shudder at the dark unknown ! 660 
 A sun extinguish'd ! a just opening grave ! 
 And, oh ! the last, last : what ? (can words express, 
 Thought reach it ?) the 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. 
 
 Thro' nature's wreck, thro' vanqxiish'd agonies, 
 (Like the stars struggling thro' this midnight gloom) 
 What gleams of joy ! what more than human peace ! 
 Where the frail raoi'tal ? 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 3'ields, 675 
 
 His soul sublime, and closes v/ith his fate. 
 
 How our hearts burnt^witliin us at the scene I 
 Whence this brave bound o'er limits fixt to man ? 
 His God sustains him in his final hour i 
 His final hour brings glorv to his God ! 600 
 
 4 
 
38 THE COMPLAINT. JVight 11. 
 
 Man^s glory Heav'n vouchsafes to call her own. 
 We gaze, we weep ! mixt tears of grief and joy I 
 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, 
 Uiidampt by doubt, undarken'd by despair, 
 Philander thus augustly rears his head, 690 
 
 At that black hour which general 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 ; 
 Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies, 6J95 
 
 With incommunicable lustre bright. 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT III. 
 
 NARCISSA. 
 
 Ignospenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes. Virg~ 
 
 Inscribed to her Grace the Duchess of P . 
 
 FROM 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 destined hour, 
 Punctual as lovers to the moments sworn, 
 I keep my assignation with my wo. 5 
 
 O ! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, 
 Lost to the noble sallies of the soul I 
 Who think it solitude to be alone. 
 -Communion sweet ! communion large and high ! 
 Our reason, guardian angel, and our God ! iG 
 
 Then nearest these, when others most remote ; 
 And all, ere long, shall be remote but these. 
 How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, 
 A stranger ! unacknowledged ! unapproved I 
 Now woo them, wed them, bind them to thy breast ; 15 
 To win thy wish, creation has no more. 
 
 Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend. 
 
 But friends, how mortal ! dangerous the desire. 
 
 Take Phoebus to yourselves, ye basking bards I 
 Inebriate at fair Fortune's fountain-head ; !20 
 
40 THE COMPLAINT. Night III. 
 
 And reeling through the wilderness of joy, 
 
 "Where sense runs savage, broke from reason's chain, 
 
 And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall. 
 
 My fortune is unlike, unlike my song. 
 
 Unlike the deity my song invokes. 25 
 
 I to Day's soft-eyed sister pay my court, 
 
 (Endymion's rival) and her aid implore ; 
 
 Now first implored in succour to the muse. 
 
 Thou, who didst lately borrow Cynthia's* form, 
 
 And modestly forego thine own ! O thou, 30 
 
 Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! 
 
 Say, why not Cynthia, patroness of song ? 
 
 As thou her crescent, she thy character 
 
 Assumes, still more a goddess by the change. 
 
 Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute 35 
 
 This revolution in the world inspired ? 
 Ye train Pierian ! to the lunar sphere. 
 In silent hour, address your ardent call 
 For aid immortal, less her brother's right. 
 She with the spheres harmonious nightly leads 40 
 
 The mazy dance, and hears their matchless strain ; 
 A strain for gods, denied to mortal ear. 
 Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of heav'n ! 
 What title or what name endears thee most ? 
 Cynthia! Cjllcne! Phoebe! — or dost hear 45 
 
 With higher gust, fair P d of the skies ? 
 
 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 so^l of song, and whisper in mine ear 50 
 
 The theft divine ; or in propitious dreams 
 
 (For dreams are thine) transfuse it thro' 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 ; ^ 
 A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme, 
 Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair I 
 
 * At the Duke of J^orfoWs masquerade. 
 
\ARCISSA. 41 
 
 A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul 
 
 'Twas night; on her fond hopes perpetual niglit ; 
 
 A night which struck a damp, a deadlier damp 60 
 
 Than that which smote me from Philander's tomb. 
 
 Narcissa follows ere his tomb is closed. 
 
 Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
 
 They love a train ; they tread each other's heel ; 
 
 Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 65 
 
 The grief that started from my lids for him ; 
 
 Seizes the faithless alienated tear, 
 
 Or shares it ere it falls. So frequent death, 
 
 Sorrow he more than causes; he confounds ; 
 
 For human sighs his rival strokes contend, 70 
 
 And make distress distraction. O Philander! 
 
 What was thy fate ? a double fate to me ; 
 
 Portent and pain ! a menace and a blow I 
 
 Like the black raven hov'ring o''er my peace, 
 
 Not less a bird of omen than of pre}'. 75 
 
 It calPd Narcissa long before her hour: 
 
 It callM her tender soul by break of bliss, 
 
 From the first blossom, from the buds of jo}^ ; 
 
 Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves 
 
 In this inclement clime of human life. 80 
 
 Sweet Harmonist I and beautiful as sweet I 
 And young as beautiful ! and soft as yoimg I 
 And gay as soft ! and innocent as gay ! 
 And happy (if aught happy here) as good I 
 For fortune fond had built her nest on high. 05 
 
 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 though my heart I 
 
 Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy ! this group 
 Of bright ideas, flow'rs of paradise, 95 
 
 As yet unforfeit ! in one blaze we bind, 
 /' 4* 
 
42 'jriE coaiPLAiNT. Night HI. 
 
 Kneel, and present it to the skies, as all 
 
 We guess of heav'n ; and these Vv-ere all her o^ivn : 
 
 And she was mine ; and I was — was ! — most blest — 
 
 Gay title of the deepest misery ! 100 
 
 As bodies grow more pond'rons robb'd of life, 
 
 Good lost weighs more in grief than gain'd in joy. 
 
 Like blossom'd trees o'erturnM by vernal storm, 
 
 Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay ; 
 
 And if in death still lovely, lovelier there, 105 
 
 Far lovelier ! Pity sv> ells the tide of love. 
 
 And will not the severe excuse a sigh ? 
 
 Scorn the proud man that is ashamed to weep ; 
 
 Our tears indulged, indeed deserve our shame. 
 
 Ye that e'er lost an angel, pity me ! 110 
 
 Soon as the lustre languish'd in her eye, 
 Dawning a dimmer day on human sight, 
 And on her cheek, the residence of spring, 
 Pale omen sat, and scattered fears around 
 On all that saw (and who would cease to gaze 115 
 
 That once had seen ?) with haste, parental haste, 
 I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north, 
 Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, 
 And bore her nearer to the sun : the sun 
 (As if the sun could envy) check'd his beam, 120 
 
 Denied his wonted succour ; nor with more 
 Regret beheld her drooping than the bells 
 Of lilies ; fairest lilies, not so fair ! 
 
 Queen lilies ! and ye painted populace ! 
 "Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives I 125 
 
 In morn and evening dew your beauties bathe, 
 And drink the sun which gives your cheeks to glow. 
 And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry fair; 
 You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand. 
 Which often cropt your odours, incense meet 130 
 
 To thought so pure. Ye lovely fugitives ! 
 Coeval race with man ; for man you smile ; 
 Why not smile at him too ? You share, indeed, 
 His sudden pass, but not his constant pain. 
 
 So man is made, nought ministers delight, 135 
 
XARfclSSA. 4i> 
 
 But what his glowing passions can engage ; 
 
 And glo^ving passions, bent on aught below, 
 
 Must soon or late, with anguish turn the scale ; 
 
 And anguish after rapture, how severe ! 
 
 Rapture I bold man ! who tempts the wrath divine, 140 
 
 By plucking fruit denied to mortal taste, 
 
 Whilst here, presuming on the rights of Heav'n. 
 
 For transport dost thou call on ev'ry hour, 
 
 Lorenzo ? At thy friend's expense be wise : 
 
 Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 143 
 
 A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear : 
 
 On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires. 
 
 Turn, hopeless thougiit I turn from her : — Thought 
 repell'd 
 Resenting rallies, and wakes evV}' wo. 
 Snatch'd e'er thj prime ! and in thy bridal hour ! 150 
 And when kind fortune, with thy lover, smiled ! 
 And when high-flavour'd thy fresh op'ning joys ! 
 And when blind man pronounced thy bliss complete ! 
 And on a foreign shore, where strangers wept ! 
 Strangers to thee, and, more surprising still, 155 
 
 Strangers to kindness, wept. Their ejes let fall 
 Inhuman tears ! strange tears ! that trickled down 
 From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! 
 A tenderness that call'd them more severe. 
 In spite of nature's soft persuasion steel'd ; . 160 
 
 While nature melted, superstition raved ! 
 That mourn'd the dead, and this denied a grave. 
 
 Their sighs incensed ; sighs foreign to the will I 
 Their will the tiger suck'd, outraged the storm: 
 For, oh ! the cursed ungodliness of zeal ! 165 
 
 While sinful flesh relented, spirit nursed 
 In blind infallibility's embrace. 
 The sainted spirit petrified the breast, 
 Denied the charity of dust to spread 
 O'er dust ! a charity their dogs enjoy. 170 
 
 What could I do ? what succour ? what resource ? 
 "With pious sacrilege a grave I stole ; 
 With impious piety that grave I wrong'd ; 
 
44 THE COMPLAINT. JViHlt HI- 
 
 ^' 
 
 Short in mj duty, coward in my grief ! 
 More like her murderer than friend, I crept 175 
 
 With soft suspended step, and muffled deep 
 In midnight darkness, whisperM my last sigh. 
 I whisperM what should echo through their realms ! 
 Nor writ her name, whose tomb should pierce the skies. 
 Presumptuous fear ! how durst I dread her foes, 180 
 While nature's loudest dictates I obey'd ? 
 Pardon necessity, blest shade ! of grief 
 And indignation rival bursts I pour'd ; 
 Half execration mingled with my praj'er ; 
 Kindled at man, while I his God adored : 18*5 
 
 Sore grudg'd the savage land her sacred dust ; 
 ■fitamp'd the cursed soil ; and with humanity 
 (Denied Narcissa) wish'd them all a grave. 
 
 Glows my resentment into guilt ? what guilt 
 Can equal violations of the dead ? 190 
 
 The dead how sacred ! sacred is the dust 
 Of this heav'n-labour'd form, erect, divine! 
 This heav'n-assumed, majestic, robe of earth 
 Tie deignM to wear, who hung the vast expanse 
 With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold. 195 
 When ev^'ry passion sleeps that can offend ; 
 When strikes us ev'ry motive that can melt ; 
 When man can wreak his rancour uncontroll'd, 
 That strongest curb on insult and ill-will ; 
 Then, spleen to dust ! the dust of innocence, 200 
 
 An anger s dust ! This Lucifer transcends ; 
 When he contended for the Patriarch's bones, 
 "Twas not the strife of malice, but of pride ; 
 The strife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall. 
 
 Far less than this is shocking to a race 205 
 
 Most wretched, but from streams of mutual love, 
 And uncreated, but for love divine ; 
 And, but for love divine, this moment lost. 
 By fate resorb'd, and sunk in endless night. 
 Man hard of heart to man ! of horrid things 210 
 
 Most horrid ! 'mid stupendous, highly strange ! 
 Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; 
 
NARCISSA. 45 
 
 Pride brandishes the favours he confers, 
 
 And contumelious his humanity : 
 
 What then his vengeance ? Hear it not, ye stars ,' 215 
 
 And thou, pale moon ! turn paler at the sound ; 
 
 Man is to man the sorest, surest ill. 
 
 A previous blast foretells the rising storm ; 
 
 Overwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall ; 
 
 Volcanoes bellow ere they disembogue ; 220 
 
 Earth trembles ere her yawning jaAvs devour ; 
 
 And smoke betrays the wide-consuming fire : 
 
 E-uin from man is most conceal'd when near, 
 
 And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. 
 
 Is this the flight of fancy ? would it were ! 225 
 
 Heav'n's Sovereign saves all beings but himself, 
 
 That hideous sight, a naked human heart. 
 
 Fired is the muse ? and let the muse be fired : 
 Who not inflamed, when what he speaks he feels, 
 And in the nerve most tender, in his friends ? 230 
 
 Shame to mankind ! Philander had his foes ; 
 He felt the truths I sing, and I in him : 
 But he nor I feel more. Past ills, Narcissa ! 
 Are sunk in thee, thou recent wound of heart ! 
 Which bleeds with other cares, with other pangs ; 235 
 Pangs numerous as the num'rous ills that swarm'd 
 ©■•er thy distinguishM fate, and clust'ring there, 
 Thick as the locust on the land of Nile, 
 Made death more deadly, and more dark the grave. 
 Reflect (if not forgot my touching tale) 240 
 
 How was each circumstance with aspics arm'd ? 
 An aspic each, and all an hydra wo. 
 What strong Herculean virtue could sufiice ? — 
 Or is it virtue to be conquered here ? 
 This hoary cheek a train of tears bedews, 245 
 
 And each tear mourns its own distinct distress ; 
 And each distress, distinctly mourn'd, demands 
 Of grief still more, as heightened by the whole. 
 A grief like this proprietors excludes ! 
 Not friends alone such obsequies deplore ; 250 
 
 They make mankind the mourner ; carry sighs 
 
46 THE COMPLAINT. Night HI 
 
 Far as the fatal Fame can wing her way, 
 
 And turn the gayest thought of gayest age 
 
 Down the right channel, through the vale of death. 
 
 The vale of death ! that hush'd Cimmerian vale, 255 
 Where darkness brooding o'er unfinishM fates, 
 With raven wing incumbent, waits the day. 
 (Dread day !) that interdicts all future change ! 
 That subterranean world, that land of ruin ! 
 Fit walk, Lorenzo, for proud human thought ! 260 
 
 There let my thought expatiate, and explore 
 Balsamic truths and healing sentiments, 
 Of all most wanted, and most welcome here. 
 For gay Lorenzo's sake, and for thy own, 
 My soul ; ' The fruits of dying friends survey ; 265 
 
 Expose the vain of life ; weigh life and death ; 
 Give death his eulogy : thy fear subdue ; 
 And labour that first palm of noble minds, 
 A manly scorn of terror from the tomb,' 
 
 This harvest reap from thy Narcissa's grave. 270 
 
 As poets feign'd, from Ajax' streaming blood 
 Arose, with grief inscrib'd, a mournful flow'r. 
 Let wisdom blossom from my mortal wound. 
 And first, of dying friends ; what fruit from these .'' 
 It brings us more than triple aid ; an aid 275 
 
 To chase our thoughtlessness, fear, pride, and guilt. 
 Our dying friends come o'er us, like a cloud, 
 To damp our brainless ardours, and abate 
 That glare of life which often blinds the wise. 
 Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth 280 
 
 Our rugged paths to death ; to break those bars 
 Of terror and abhorrence nature throws 
 Cross our obstructed way, and thus to make 
 Welcome, as safe, our port from ev'ry storm. 
 Each friend by fate snatch'd from us is a plume 285 
 Pluck'd from the wing of human vanity. 
 Which makes us stoop from our aerial heights, 
 And damp'd with omen of our own decease, 
 On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd. 
 Just skim earth's surface ere we break it «p, 290 
 
WARCISSA. 47 
 
 O'er puhid earth to scratch a little dust 
 
 And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends 
 
 Are angels, sent on errands full of love ; 
 
 For us they languish, and for us they die : 
 
 And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain ? " 295 
 
 Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hov'ring shades, 
 
 Which wait the revolution in our hearts ? 
 
 Shall we disdain their silent, soft, address, 
 
 Their posthumous advice, and pious pray'r ? 
 
 Senseless, as herds that graze their hallowM graves, 
 
 Tread under foot their agonies and groans ; 301 
 
 Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths ? 
 
 Lorenzo ! no ; the thought of death indulge ; 
 Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign, 
 That kind chastiser of thy soul in joy ; 305 
 
 Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, 
 And still the tumults of thy ruffled breast. 
 Auspicious era ! golden days begin ! 
 The thought of death shall, like a god, inspire. 
 And why not think on death ? Is life the theme 310 
 Of ev'ry thought ? and wish of ev'ry hour ? 
 And song of ev'ry joy ? Surprising truth ! 
 The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange. 
 To wave the numerous ills that seize on life 
 As their own property, their lawful prey ; 315^ 
 
 Ere man has measured half his weary stage, 
 His luxuries have left him no reserve. 
 No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights ; 
 On cold-served repetitions he subsists, 
 And in the tasteless present chews the past ; 320 
 
 Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down. 
 Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
 Have disinherited his future hours, 
 Which starve on orts, and glean their former field. 
 
 Live ever here, Lorenzo I — shocking thought ! 325 
 So shocking, they who wish disown it too ; 
 Diso%vn from shame what they from folly crave . 
 Live ever in the womb, nor see the light ! 
 Tor what live ever here ? — with laboring step 
 
48 THE COMPLAINT. Night 111. 
 
 To tread our former footsteps ? pace the round 330 
 
 Eternal ? to climb life's worn heavy wheel 
 
 Which draws up nothing new ? to beat, and beat 
 
 The beaten track ? to bid each wretched day 
 
 The former mock ? to surfeit on the same, 
 
 And yawn our joys ? or thank a misery 335 
 
 For change, though sad ? to see what we have seen ? 
 
 Hear, till unheard, the same old slabber'd tale ? 
 
 To taste the tasted, and at each return 
 
 Less tasteful ? o'er our palates to decant 
 
 Another vintage ? strain a- flatter year, 340 
 
 Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone ? 
 
 Crazy machines to grind earth's wasted fruits ! 
 
 Ill ground, and worse concocted ! load, not life I 
 
 The rational foul kennels of excess ! 
 
 Still-streaming thoroughfares of dull debauch ! 345 
 
 Trembling each gulp, lest death should snatch the bowl. 
 
 Such of our fine ones is the wish refined ! 
 So would they have it : elegant desire ! 
 Why not invite the bellowing stalls and wilds ? 
 But such examples might their riot awe. 350 
 
 Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought, 
 (Tho' on bright thought they father all their flights) 
 To what are they reduced ! to love and hate 
 The same vain world ; to censure and espouse 
 This painted shrew of life, who calls them fool 355 
 
 Each moment of each day ; to flatter bad 
 Through dread of worse ; to cling to tliis rude rock, 
 Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills, 
 And hourly blacken'd with impending storms, 
 And infamous for wrecks of human hope — S60 
 
 Scared at the gloomy gulf that yawns beneath. 
 Such are their triumphs! such their pangs of joy I 
 
 'Tis time, high time, to shift this dismal scene. 
 This hiigg'd, this hideous state, what art can cure ? 
 One only ; but that one what all may reacli ; 365 
 
 Virtiie — she, wonder-Avorkirig- goddess ! charms 
 That rock to bloom, and tames the painted shrew ; 
 And, what will more surprise, Lorenzo ! gives 
 
NARCISSA. 49 
 
 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 lang^uid leaden iteration reig^ns, 
 And ever must, o''er those whose joys are joys 
 Of sight, smell, taste. The cuckoo-seasons sing 375 
 The same dull note to such as nothing prize. 
 But what those seasons, from the teeming earth. 
 To 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 possessed. 
 On lighten'd minds that bask in virtue's beams, 
 J!^othing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves 
 In that for which they long, for which they live. 38>;> 
 Their glorious efforts, wing'd with heavenly hope, 
 Each rising morning sees still higher rise v 
 Each bounteous dawn its novelty presents 
 To worth maturing, new strength, lustre, fame ! 
 While nature's circle, like a chariot-wheel 39i) 
 
 Rolling beneath their elevated aims. 
 Makes their fair prospect fairer ev'ry hour ; 
 Advancing virtue in a line to bliss ; 
 Virtue which Christian motives best inspire ! 
 And bliss, which Christian schemes alone ensure I 39 j 
 
 And shall we then, for virtue's sake, commence 
 Apostates ? and turn infidels for joy ? 
 A truth it is, few doubt, but fewer trust, 
 *■ He sins against this life, who sliglits the next."* 
 W^hat 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 
 Loved life unlovely, hugging her to death. 
 We give to time eternity's regard. 
 And, dreaming, take out passage for our port. 40."> 
 
 Life has no value as an end, but means ; 
 All end deplorable ! a mccm? divine I 
 r; 
 
50 THE COSIPLAINT. JVi(rht IIL 
 
 o 
 
 When 'tis our all, His nothing ; worse than nought j 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Then 'tis the seat of comfort, rich in peace ; 
 
 In prospect richer far ; important I awful ! 
 
 Not to be mention'd but with shouts of praise I 
 
 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 l 
 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 scene, 
 Whose worth ambiguous rises and declines, 
 Waxes and wanes ? (In all, propitious Night 
 Assists me here) compare it to the moon ; 
 Dark in herself, and indigent ; but rich 42S 
 
 In borrow'd Justice from a higher sphere. 
 When gross guilt interposes, lab'ring earth, 
 O'ershadow'd, mourns a deep eclipse of joy ; 
 Her joys, at brightest, pallid to that font 
 Of full effulgent glory whence they flow. 430 
 
 Nor is that glory distant. O Lorenzo, 
 A good man and an angel ! these between 
 How thin the ban'ier I what divides their fate I 
 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 traduced ; 
 Compare the rivals, and the kinder crown. 445 
 
 '" Strange competition I' — True, Lorenzo, strange 1 
 
NARCISSA. 51 
 
 So littlo life can cast into the scale. 
 
 Life makes the soul dependent on the dust ; 
 Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres. 
 Thro' chinks, styled organs, dim life peeps at light ; 
 Death bursts th' involving cloud, and all is day ; 451 
 All eye, all ear, the disembodied pow'r. 
 Death has feign'd evils nature shall not feel ; 
 Life, ills substantial, Avisdom cannot shun. 
 Is not the mighty mind, that son of Heav'n 455 
 
 By tyrant Life dethroned, imprisoned, pain'd ? 
 By death enlarged, ennobled, deified ? 
 Death but entombs 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 powV ; 
 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. 
 Jjife is the triumph of our mouWring clay ; 
 Death of the spirit infinite I divine ! 
 Death has no dread but what frail life imparts ; 
 J\or 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 sendj 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 bemired I 480 
 
 Lorenzo, blush at terror for a death 
 Which give? thee to repose in festive bow'rs, 
 Wliere nectar3 sparkle, angels minister. 
 And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, 
 And eternize, the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss. 48S 
 
52 THE COMPLAINT. j\''isht III. 
 
 O' 
 
 What need I more ? O dcalh, the palm is thine. 
 
 Then welcome, death ! thy dreaded harbingers, 
 x\g;e and disease ; disease, though long my guest. 
 That plucks ray 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, better taught, 
 Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb 
 With wreath triumphant. Death is victory ; 495 
 
 It binds in chains the raging ills of life : 
 Lust and ambition, wrath and avarice, 
 Dragg'd at his chariot-wheel, applaud his pow'r. 
 That ills corrosive, cares importunate, 
 Are not immortal too, O death, is thine. 500 
 
 Our day of dissolution ! — name it right, 
 "Tis our great pay-day : 'tis our harvest, rich 
 And ripe. W^hat tho' the sickle, sometimes keen, 
 •Tust scars us as we reap the golden grain ? 
 More than thy balm, O Gilead ! heals the wound. 505 
 Birth's feeble cry, and death's deep dismal groan, 
 Are slender tribvites low-tax'd nature pays 
 For mighty gain ; the gain of each a life ! 
 But O ! the last the former so transcends. 
 Life dies compared ; life lives beyond the grave. 510 
 
 And feel I, death, no joy from thought of thee ? 
 Death, the great counsellor, who man inspires 
 With every nobler thought and fairer deed ! 
 Death, the deliverer, M'ho rescues man ! 
 Death, the rewarder, who the rescued crowns I 51 
 Death, that absolves my birlb, a curse without it ! 
 Rich death, that realizes all m}'^ cares. 
 Toils, virtues, hdpes ; without it a chimpra I 
 Death, of all pain the period, not of jo}-- ; 
 Joy's source and subject still sxibsist unhurt ; 520 
 
 One in m3^ soul, and one in her great sire, 
 Though the four winds were warring for my dusl. 
 Yes, and from winds and waves, and central night, 
 Though prison'd there, my dust too I reclaim^ 52.4 
 
NARCISSA. 03 
 
 (To dust when drop proud Nature's proudest spheres) 
 And hve entire. Death is the crown of hfe : 
 Were death denied, poor man would hve in vain : 
 Were death denied, to hve would not be life : 
 Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. 529 
 Death wounds to cure ; we fall, we rise, we reign ! 
 Spring from our fetters, fasten in the skies, 
 Where blooming Eden withers in our sight ; 
 Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. 
 This king of terrors is the prince of peace. 
 When shall I die to vanity, pain, death ? 535 
 
 When shall I die ? — when shall I live for ev^r ? 
 5* 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT IV. 
 
 000 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 
 
 Containing the only Cure for the Fear of Death ; and 
 proper Sentiments of Heart on that inestimable 
 Blessing. 
 
 Inscribed to the Honourable Mr. YorI:e. 
 
 A MUCH-indebted muse, O Yorke I intrudes. 
 Amid the smiles of fortune and of youth, 
 Thine ear is patient of a serious sone;. 
 How deep implanted in the breast of man 
 The dread of death I I sing its sovereign cure, 5 
 
 Why start at death ? where is he ? death arrived 
 Is past : not come, or gone, he's never here. 
 Ere hope, sensation fails ; black-boding man 
 lleceives, not suffers, death's tremendous blow. 
 The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; 10 
 The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm ; 
 These are the bugbears of a winter's eve. 
 The terrors of the living, not the dead. 
 Imagination's fool, and error's wretch, 
 Man makes a death %vhich nature never made ; 15 
 
 Then on the point of his own fancy falls, 
 And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 
 
 But were death frightful, what has age to fear 
 If prudent ; age should meet the friendly foe, 
 And shelter in bis hospitable gloom. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH, 65 
 
 1 scarce can meet a monument but holds 
 
 My younger ; every date cries — ' Come away.' 
 
 And what recalls mc ? Look the world around, 
 
 And tell me what : the wisest cannot tell. 
 
 Should any born of woman give his thought 23 
 
 Full range on just dislike's unbounded field ; 
 
 Of things, the vanit}' ; of men, the flaws ; 
 
 i 'laws in the best ; the many, flaw all o'er ; 
 
 As leopards spotted, or as Ethiops dark ; 
 
 Vivacious ill ; good dying immature ; 30 
 
 (How immature, Narcissa's marble tells !) 
 
 And at its death bequeathing endless pain ; 
 
 His heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, 
 
 And spend itself in sighs for future scenes. 
 
 But grant to life (and just it is to grant 35 
 
 To lucky life) some perquisites of joy ; 
 A time there is, when, like a thrice-told tale, 
 Long-rifled life of sweet can yield no more, 
 But from our comment on the comedy, 
 Pleasing reflections on parts well sustained, 40 
 
 Or purposM emendations where we fail'd, 
 Or hopes of plaudits from our candid Judge, 
 When, on their exit, souls are bid unrobe. 
 Toss Fortune back her tinsel and her plume. 
 And drop this mask of flesh behind the scene. 45 
 
 With me that time is come ; my world is dead ; 
 A new v/orld rises, and new manners reign. 
 Foreign comedians, a spruce band ! arrive 
 To push me from the scene, or hiss me there. 
 What a pert race starts up ! the strangers ga^e, 50 
 
 And I at them ; my neighbour is unknown ; 
 Nor that the worst. Ah me ! the dire eflfect 
 Of loitering here, of deatli defrauded long; 
 Of old so gracious (and let that suffice) 
 My very master knows rac not, 55 
 
 Shall I dare say, peculiar is the fate ? 
 Fve been so long remember''d, I'm forgot. 
 An object ever pressing dims the sight, 
 And hides behind its ardour to be seen. 
 
&6 THE COMPLAINT. JVight IF- 
 
 When in his courtiers' ears I pour my plaint, 60 
 
 They drink it as the nectar of the great, 
 And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow I 
 Refusal ! canst thou wear a smoother form ? 
 
 Indulge me, nor conceive I drop my theme ; 
 Who cheapens life, abates the fear of death. 65 
 
 Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy, 
 Court-favour, yet untaken, I besiege ; 
 Ambition's ill-judged effort to be rich. 
 Alas I ambition makes my little less, 
 Imbitt'ring the possess'd. Why wish for more : 70 
 Wishing, of all employments, is the worst I 
 Philosophy's reverse, and health*'s decay I 
 Were I as plump as stall'd Theology, 
 Wishing would waste me to this shade again. 
 Were I as wealthy as a South-sea dream, 
 Wishing is an expedient to be poor. 
 W^ishing, that constant hectic of a fool, 
 Caught at a court, purg'd off by purer air 
 And simpler diet, gifts of rural life ! 
 
 Blest be that hand divine, which gently laid 80 
 
 My heart at rest beneath this humble shed. 
 The world's a stately bark, on dangerous sorts 
 With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril : 
 Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, 
 I hear the tumult of the distant throng 85 
 
 As that of seas remote, or dying storms. 
 And meditate on scenes more silent still ; 
 Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of death. 
 Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut, 
 Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff, 90 
 
 Eager ambition's fiery chase I see ; 
 I see the circling hunt of noipy men 
 Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right, 
 Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey ; 
 A s wolves for rapine, as the fox for wiles, 95 
 
 Till death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. 
 
 Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? 
 What though we wade in wealth or soar in fame, 
 
nm CHRISTiAiV TRIUMPH. Ot 
 
 Earth's highest station ends in ' Here he lies ;' 
 
 And ' Dust to dust,' concludes her noblest song. 100 
 
 If this song lives, posterity shall know 
 
 One, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred, 
 
 Who thought e'en gold miglit come a day too late, 
 
 Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme 
 
 For future vacancies in church or state, 105 
 
 »Some avocation deeming it — to die ; 
 
 ( 'nbit by rage canine of dying rich ; 
 
 Guilt's blunder ! and the loudest laugh of Hell. 
 
 O m}' coevals ! remnants of yourselves I 
 Poor human ruins tottering o'er the grave f 110 
 
 Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, 
 ■Strike deeper their \ile root, and closer cling, 
 •Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil? 
 Shall our pale withered hands be still stretch'd out, 
 Trembling, at once, with eagerness and age ? 11^ 
 
 With av'rice, and convulsions, grasping hard ? 
 Grasping at air ! for what has-earth beside ? 
 Man wants but little, nor that httle long : 
 How soon must he resign his very dust, 
 Which frugal nature lent him for an hour ! 12(5 
 
 Years unexperienced rush on numerous ills ; 
 And soon as man, expert from time, has found 
 The key of life, it opes the gates of death. 
 
 When in this vale of years I backwa.rd look, 
 A])d miss such numbers, numbers too, of such, 125 
 Firmer in healtli, and greener in their age. 
 And stricter on their guard, and fitter far 
 To play life's, subtle game, I scarce believe 
 I stUl survive. And am I fond of life. 
 Who scarce can think it possible I live ? 130 
 
 Alive by miracle ! or, what is next. 
 Alive by Mead I If I am still alive, 
 VS'ho long h.ave buried what gives life to live, 
 Firinne?s of nerve, and energy of thought. 
 Life's lee is not more shallov/ than impure 135 
 
 And vapid : sense and reason show the door, 
 Call for my bjer, and point me to the dust. 
 
38 THE COMPLAIKT. jXigJlt IF, 
 
 O thou great Arbiter of life and death ! 
 !Nature''s immortal, immaterial sun ! 
 Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth 140 
 
 From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay 
 The worm's inferior ; and, in rank, beneath 
 The dust I tread on ; high to bear my brow, 
 To drink the spirit of the golden day. 
 And triumph in existence ; and couldst know 145 
 
 No motive but my bliss ; and hast ordain'd 
 A rise in blessing ! with the Patriarch's joy 
 Thy call I follow to the land unknown : 
 1 trust in thee, and know in whom I trust : 
 Or life or death is equal ; neither weighs ; 150 
 
 All Aveight in this — O let me live to thee. 
 
 Though Nature's terrors thus may be represt, 
 ^^till frowns grim death ; guilt points the tyrant's spear. 
 And whence all human guilt ? From death forgot. 
 Ah me ! too long I set at naught the swarm 155 
 
 Of friendly warnings which around mc flew, 
 And smiled unsmitten. Small my cause to smile ; 
 Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot, 
 More dreadful by delay, the longer ere 
 They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound. 160 
 O think how deep, Lorenzo ! here it stings ; 
 Who can appease its anguish ? how it burns ! 
 What hand the barb''d, envenom'd thought can draw ? 
 What healing hand can pour the balm of peace, 
 \nd turn my sight undaunted on the tomb ? 165 
 
 With joy. — with grief, that healing hand I see : 
 Ah ! too conspicuous ! it is lix'd on high. 
 On liigh ? — what means my phrensy ? I blaspheme ; 
 Alas ! how low ! how far beneath the skies ! 
 The skies it form'd, and now it bleeds for me — 170 
 But bleeds the balm I want — yet still it bleeds I 
 Draw the dire steel — ah no ! the dreadful blessing 
 What heart or can sustain, or dares forego ? 
 There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports 
 The falling universe : that gone, we drop ; 175 
 
 Horror receives us, and the dismal wish 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 50 
 
 Creation had been smother'd in her birth — 
 
 Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust ; 
 
 When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne ! 
 
 In heav'n itself can such indulgence dwell ? 180 
 
 O what a groan was there ! a groan not his : 
 
 He seized our dreadful right, the load sustain-d, 
 
 And heaved the mountain from a guilty world. 
 
 A thousand worlds so bought, were bought too dear ; 
 
 Sensations new in angels'* bosoms rise, 18u 
 
 Suspend their song, and make a pause in bliss. 
 
 O for their song to reach my lofty theme I 
 Inspire me. Night I with all thy tuneful spheres, 
 Much rather thou who dost these spheres inspire I 
 Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes, 190 
 
 And show to men the dignity of man. 
 Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song. 
 Shall Pagan pages glow celestial flame. 
 And Christian languish ? On our hearts, not heads. 
 Falls the foul infamy. My heart, awake : 19i 
 
 What can awake thee, unawaked by this, 
 ' Expended Deity on human weal ?' 
 Feel the great truths which burst the tenfold night 
 Of heathen error, v/ith a golden flood 
 Of endless day. To feel is to be fired ; 200 
 
 And to believe, Lorenzo, is to feel. 
 
 Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Pow'r I 
 Slill more tremendous for thy wondrous love ; 
 That arms with awe more awful thy commands, 
 And foul transgression dips in sevenfold guilt ; 20.. 
 
 How our hearts tremble at thy love immense ! 
 In love immense, inviolably just ! 
 Thou, rather than thy justice should be stainM, 
 Didst stain the cross ; and, work of wonders far 
 The greatest, that thy dearest far might bleed. 210 
 
 Bold thought ! shall I dare speak it or repress ? 
 Should man more execrate or boast the guilt 
 Which roused such vengeance ? which such love in- 
 flamed ? 
 O'pr guilt (how mountainous) with o-utstretch'd arms 
 
60 THE COMPLAINT. JS^ight IV\ 
 
 Stern Justice, -and soft-smiling Love, embrace, 215 
 
 Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne, 
 
 When seem'd its majesty to need support, 
 
 Or that, or man, inevitably lost : 
 
 What but the fathomless of thought divine 
 
 Could labour such expedient from despair, 220 
 
 And rescue both ? Both rescue I both exalt ! 
 
 O how are both exalted by the deed ! > 
 
 The wondrous deed ! or shall I call it more ? 
 
 A wonder in Omnipotence itself I 
 
 A mystery, no less to gods than men I 5'2;3. 
 
 Not thus our infidels th' Eternal draw, 
 A God all o'er consummate, absolute. 
 Full orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete : 
 They set at odds Heav'n's jarring attributes, 
 And with one excellence another wound ; 23(i 
 
 Main heaven's perfection, break its equal beams, 
 Bid mercy triumph over — God himself, 
 Undefied by their opprobrious praise : 
 A God all mercy is a God unjust. 
 
 Ye brainless wits ! ye baptized infidels ! 23f* 
 
 Ye worse for mending ! wash'd to fouler stains I 
 The ransom was paid down ; the fund of heav'n, 
 Heaven's inexhaustible, exhausted fund, 
 Amazing and amazed, pour'd forth the price, 
 All price beyond : though curious to compute, 240 
 Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum : 
 Its value vast ungrasp'd by minds create, 
 For ever hides and glows in the Supreme. 
 And was the ransom paid ? It was ; and paid 
 (What can exalt the bounty more ?) for you. 245 
 
 The sun beheld it — No, the shocking scene 
 Drove back his chariot : Midnight veil'd his face : 
 Not such as this, not such as Nature makes : 
 A midnight Nature shudder'd to behold ; 
 A midnight ncAV ! a dread eclipse (without 2.^0 
 
 Opposing spheres) from her Creator's frown I 
 Sun ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain ? or start 
 \X that enormous load of human jruilt 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 61 
 
 VVliicJi bow'd his blessed head o'erwhelmM his cross, 
 Made groan the centre, burst earth's marble womb 255 
 With pangs, strange pangs ! delivered of her dead ? 
 Hell howl'd ; and heav'n that hour let fall a tear : 
 Heav'n wept, that man might smile ! Heav'n bled, that 
 
 man 
 Might never die ! 
 
 And is devotion virtue ? 'Tis compell'd. 260 
 
 What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these ? 
 Such contemplations mount us, and should mount 
 The mind still higher, nor e'er glance on man 
 Unraptured, uninflamed. Where roll my thoughts 
 To rest from wonders I other wonders rise, 265 
 
 And strike where'er they roll : my soul is caught : 
 Heav'n's sov'reign blessings clust'ring from the cros?, 
 Rush on her in a throng, and close her round 
 The pris'ner of amaze ! In his blest life 
 1 see the path, and in his death the price, 270 
 
 And in his great ascent the proof supreme 
 Of immortality. — And did he rise ? 
 Hear, O ye nations ! hear it, O ye dead I 
 He rose, he rose ! he burst the bars of death. 
 Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, 275 
 
 And give the King of Glory to come in. 
 Who Is the King of Glory? He who left 
 His throne of glory for the pangs of death. 
 Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, 
 And give the King of Glory to come in. 280 
 
 Who is the King of Glory ? He who slew 
 The rav'nous foe that gorged all human race 1 
 The King of Glory he, whose glory fill'd 
 Heav'n with amazement at his love to man ; 
 And with divine complacency beheld 2^5 
 
 Pow'rs most illumined wilder'd in the theme. 
 
 The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ? 
 O the burst gates I crush'd sting ! demolish'd throne I 
 Last gasp ! of vanquish'd death. Shout earth and heav'n,^ 
 This sum of good to man ! whose nature then 290 
 
 Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb-.' 
 
62 .THE COMPLAINT. JVis:ht IV. 
 
 b' 
 
 Then, then, I rose ; then first humanity 
 
 Triumphant past the ciystal ports of light, 
 
 (Stupendous guest!) and seized eternal youth, 
 
 Seized in our name. E'er since 'tis blasphemous 295 
 
 To call man mortal. Man's mortality 
 
 Was then transferr'd to death ; and heav'n's duration 
 
 Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame. 
 
 This child of dust — Man, all-immortal, hail ! 
 
 Hail, Heav'n, all-lavish of strange gifts to man ! 300 
 
 Thine all the glory, man's the boundless bliss. 
 
 Where am I wrapt by this triumphant theme, 
 On Christian joy's exulting wing, above 
 Th' Aonian mount ! — Alas ! small cause of joy ! 
 What if to pain immortal ? if extent 305 
 
 Of being, to preclude a close of wo! 
 Where, then, my boast of immortality ? 
 I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt; 
 For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd ; 
 *Tis guilt alone can justify his death ; 310 
 
 Not that, unless his death can justify 
 .Relenting guilt d^ heav'n's indulgent Mght. 
 If, sick of folly,4' relent, he writes 
 My name in heav'n with that inverted spear 
 (A spear deep dipt in blood !) which pierced his side. 
 And open'd there a font for all mankind, 316 
 
 Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink and live : 
 This, only this, subdues the fear of death. 
 
 And what is this ? — survey the wondrous cure, 
 And at each step let higher wonder rise ! 320 
 
 " Pardon for infinite offence ! and pardon 
 Through means that speak its value infinite ! 
 A pardon bought with blood ! with blood divine ! 
 With blood divine of him I made my foe ! 
 Persisted to provoke ! though wooed and awed, 32 j 
 Blest and chastised, a flagrant rebel still ; 
 A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne ! 
 Nor I alone ! a rebel universe ! 
 My species up in arms ! not one exempt ! 
 Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies ! 330 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. DO 
 
 Most joy'd for the redeemM from deepest guilt ! 
 As if our race were held of highest rank, 
 'And Godhead dearer as more kind to man !' 
 
 Bound ev'rj heart ; and ev'ry bosom burn ! 
 O -what a scale of miracles is here I 335 
 
 Its lowest round high planted on the skies : 
 Its tow'ring summit lost beyond the thought 
 Of man or angel ! O that I could chmb 
 The v.'onderful ascent with equal praise ! 
 Praise ! flow for ever (if astonishment 340 
 
 Will give thee leave) my praise ; for ever flow ; 
 Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high heav''n 
 More fragrant than Arabia sacrificed, 
 And all her spicy mountains in a flame. 
 So dear, so due to heav'n, shall praise descend 345 
 With her soft plume (from plausive angels' wing 
 First pluckM by man) to tickle mortal ears, 
 Thus diving in the pockets of the gi*eat? 
 Is praise the perquisite of ev'ry paw, 
 Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold ? 350 
 O love of gold, thou meanest of amotirs ! 
 Shall praise her odours waste on virtue"'s dead ; 
 Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, 
 Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair ; 
 Removing filth, or sinking it from sight, 355 
 
 A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts, 
 Like jjibbets yet untenanted, expect 
 Their future ornaments ? From courts and thrones 
 Return, apostate Praise ! thou vagabond ! 
 Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return ; 360 
 
 Thy first,' thy greatest, once unrivall'd theme. 
 
 There flow redundant, like Meander flow, 
 Back to thy fountain, to that parent pow'r 
 Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar, 
 The soul to be. Men homage pay to men : 36.5 
 
 Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow, 
 In mutual awe profound, of clay to clay, 
 Of guilt to guilt, and turn their backs on thee, 
 Great Sire ! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing". 
 
£4 THE COMPLAINT. A''ight IV. 
 
 To prostrate angels an amazing scene ! 370 
 
 O the presumption of man's awe for man ! — 
 Man's Author, End, Restorer, Law, and Judge ! 
 Thine, all ; day thine, and thine this gloom of night, 
 With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds. 
 What night eternal but a frown from thee ? 375 
 
 What heaven's meridian glory but thy smile ? 
 And shall not praise be thine, not human praise, 
 While heaven's high host on hallelujahs live ? 
 
 O may I breathe no longer than I breathe 
 My soul in praise to HIM who gave my soul, 380 
 
 And all her infinite of prospect fair 
 Cut through the shades of hell, great Love ! by thee, 
 O most adorable ! most unadored ! 
 Where shall that praise begin which ne'er shall end ? 
 Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause ! 385 
 
 How is Night's sable mantle labour'd o'er. 
 How richly wrought with attributes divine ! 
 What wisdom shines ! what love ! This midnight pomp. 
 This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid ! 
 Built with divine ambition ! nought to thee ; 390 
 
 For others this profusion. Thou, apart. 
 Above, beyond, O tell me, mighty Mind ! 
 Where art thou ? shall I dive into the deep ? 
 Call to the sun ? or ask the roaring winds 
 For their Creator ? Shall I question loud 395 
 
 The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells ? 
 Or holds HE furious storms in straiten'd reins. 
 And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car ? 
 
 What mean these questions ? — Trembling I retract ; 
 My prostrate soul adores the present God : 400 
 
 Praise I a distant Deity ! He tunes 
 My voice (if tuned ;) the nerve that writes sustains : 
 Wrapp'd in his being I resound his praise : 
 But though past all diffused, without a shore 
 His essence, local is His throne (as meet) 405 
 
 To gather the dispers'd (as standards call 
 The listed from afar ;) lo fix a point, 
 \ central point, eollectirc of liis sonv. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 65 
 
 Since finite ev'ry nature but his own. 
 
 The nameless HE, whose nod is Nature's birth ; 410 
 And Nature's shield the shadow of his hand ; 
 Her dissolution, his suspended smile I 
 The great First-Last ! pavilionM high he sits 
 In darkness from excessive splendour, borne, 
 By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost. 415 
 
 His glory, to created gloi'y bright 
 As that to central horrors : he looks down 
 On all that soars, and spans immensity. 
 
 Though night unnumberM worlds unfolds to view, 
 Boundless Creation ! what art thou ? A beam, 420 
 
 A mere effluvium of his majesty. 
 And shall an atom of this atom-world 
 Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of heav'n ? 
 Down to the centre should I send my thought. 
 Through beds of ghtt'ring ore and glowing gems, 425 
 Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay ; 
 Goes out in darkness : if, on tow'ring wing, 
 I send it through the boundless vault of stars, 
 (The stars, tho' rich, what dross their gold to Thee, 
 Great, good, wise, wonderful, eternal King !) 430 
 
 If to those conscious stars thy throne around, 
 Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing bliss. 
 And ask their strain ; they want it, more they want, 
 Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 
 Languid their energy, their ardour cold : 435 
 
 indebted still, their highest rapture burns, 
 Short of its mark, defective, though divine. 
 
 Still more — this theme is man's, and man's alone ; 
 Their vast appointments reach it not ; they see 
 On earth a bounty not indulged on high, 440 
 
 And downw^ard look for heav'n's superior praise ! 
 First-born of Ether ! high in fields of light ! 
 View man to see the glory of your God ! 
 Could angels envy, they had envied here ; 
 And some did envy : and the rest, though gods, 445 
 Yet still gods unredeem'd (there triumphs man, 
 Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies,) 
 6* 
 
66 THE COMPLAINT. • JVight IV - 
 
 They less would feel, though more adorn my theme. 
 
 They sung creation (for in that they shared ;) 
 
 How rose in melody that child of Love ! 450 
 
 Creation's great superior, man ! is thine ; 
 
 '.rhine is Redemption ; they just gave the key, 
 
 *Tis thine to raise and eternize the song, 
 
 ThoTigh human, yet divine ; for should not this 
 
 Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here ? 455 
 
 Redemption ! 'twas creation more sublime ; 
 
 Redemption I 'twas the labour of the skies : 
 
 Far more than labour — it was death in heav'n, 
 
 A truth so strange, 'twere bold to think it true, 
 
 If not far bolder still, to disbelieve. 460 
 
 Here pause and ponder. Was there death in heav'n ? 
 What then on earth ? on earth, which struck the blow .'' 
 Who struck it ? Who ? — O how is man enlarged, 
 .Seen through this medium : How the pigmy tow'rs ! 
 How counterpoised his origin from dust ! 465 
 
 How counterpoised to dust his sad return ! 
 How voided his vast distance from the skies I 
 How near he presses on the seraph's wing ! 
 W^hich is the seraph ! Which the born of clay ? 
 How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud 470 
 Of guilt and clay condensed, the Son of Heav'n ; 
 The double Son ; the made, and the re-made I 
 And shall heav'n's double property be lost ? 
 Man's double madness only can destroy. 
 To man the bleeding cross has promised all ; 475 
 
 The bleeding Cross has sworn eternal grace. 
 Who gave his life, what grace shall he deny ? 
 O ye, who from this rock of ages leap. 
 Apostates, plunging headlong in the deep ! 
 Wheit cordial j-oy, what consolation strong, 480 
 
 Whatever winds arise, or billows roll. 
 Our int'rest in the Master of the storm ! 
 (Jling there, and in wreck'd Nature's ruin smile, 
 While vile apostates tremble in a calm. 
 
 Man, know thyself : all wisdom centres there. 4^.'i 
 To none man seems isrnoble but to mar.. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIOIPH. 67 
 
 Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire : 
 
 How long shall human nature be their book, 
 
 Degenerate mortal ! and unread by thee ? 
 
 The beam dim reason sheds shows wonders there : 490 
 
 What high contents ! illustrious faculties ! 
 
 But the grand comment, which displays at full 
 
 Our human height, scarce severM from divine. 
 
 By Heaven composed, was publishM on the Cross. 
 
 Who looks on that, and sees not in himself 495 
 
 An awful stranger, a terrestrial God ? 
 A glorious partner with the Deity 
 In that high attribute, immortal life ? 
 If a god bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm. 
 I gaze, and as I gaze my mountain soul 500 
 
 Catches strange fire. Eternity ! at thee. 
 And drops the world — or, rather, more enjoys. 
 How changed the face of Nature ! how improved 1 
 What seemM a chaos, shines a glorious world, 
 Or, what a world, an Eden ; heightened all ! 505 
 
 It is another scene, another self ! 
 And still another, as time rolk along, 
 And that a self far more illustrious still. 
 Beyond long ages, yet rolPd up in shades 
 Unpierced by bold conjecture's keenest ray, 510 
 
 What evolutions of surprising fate ! 
 How Nature opens, and receives my soul 
 In boundless walks of raptured thought I where gods 
 Encounter and embrace me ! What new births 
 Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun ; 515 
 
 Where what now charms, perhaps whatever exists, 
 Old Time, and fair creation, are forgot I 
 Is this extravagant ? of man we form 
 Extravagant conceptions to be just ; 
 Conception unconfincd wants Avings to reach him ; 620 
 Beyond its reach the Godhead onty more. 
 He the great Father ! kindled at one flame 
 The world of rationals : one spirit poiir'd 
 From spirit's awful fountain ; pour'd himself 
 Through all their souls, but not an equal stream ; 525 
 
68 THE COMPLAINT. Night IP^. 
 
 Profuse, or frugal, of th' inspiring God, 
 
 As his wise plan demanded ; and when past 
 
 Their various trials, in their various sphere?, 
 
 if they continue rational, as made, 
 
 Resorbs them all into himself again, 530 
 
 His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. 
 
 Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing, 
 Though yet unsung, as deenxM, perhaps, too bold ? 
 Angels are men of a superior kind ; 
 Angels are men in lighter habit clad, 535 
 
 High o''er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; 
 And men are angels, loaded for an hour, 
 Who wade this miry vale, and climb with pain, 
 And slipp'ry step, the bottom of the steep. 
 Angels their failings, mortals have their praise ; 540 
 While here, of corps ethereal, such enrolPd, 
 And summon'd to tiie glorious standard soon, 
 Which flames eternal crimson through the skies : 
 Is or are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, 
 Yet absent ; but not absent from their love. 545 
 
 Michael has fought our battles ; Raphael sung 
 Our triumphs ; Gabriel on our errands flown, 
 ■■ Sent by the Sovereign : and are these, O man, 
 Thy friends, thy warm allies ? and thou (shame burn 
 The cheek to cinder!) rival to the brute ? 550 
 
 Religion^s all. Descending from the skies 
 To wretched man, the goddess in her left 
 Holds out this world, and in her right the next. 
 Religion \ the sole voucher man is man ; 
 Supporter sole of man above himself; 555 
 
 E'en in this night of frailty, change, and death, 
 She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. 
 Religion ! Providence I an after-state I 
 Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ; 
 This can support us ; all is sea besides i 560 
 
 Sinks under us ; be&torms, and then devours. 
 His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
 And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. 
 
 As when a wretch, from thick polluted air, 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 69 
 
 Darkness, and stench, and suffocating damps, 565 
 
 And dungeon-horrors, by kind fate discharged, 
 
 Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure 
 
 Surrounds him, and Eljsian prospects rise, 
 
 l:Jis heart exults, his spirits cast their load. 
 
 As if new-born he trium]:>hs in the change I 570 
 
 So joys the soul, when, from inglorious aims 
 
 And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth 
 
 Of ties terrestrial, set at large, she mounts 
 
 To Reason's region, her own element. 
 
 Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. 575 
 
 Religion ! thou the soul of happiness. 
 And, groaning Calvary, of thee, there shine 
 The nobtest truths ; there strongest motives sting ; 
 There sacred violence assaults the soul ; 
 There nothing but compulsion is forborne. 580 
 
 Can love allure us ? or can terror awe ? 
 He weeps I — the falling drop puts out the sun. 
 Ke sighs ! — the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. 
 If in his love so terrible, what then 
 His wrath inflamed ? His tenderness on fire ? 58t 
 
 Like soft smooth oil, outblazing other fires ? 
 Can prayV, can praise, avert it? — Thou, my all ! 
 My theme ! my inspiration ! and my crown ! 
 My strength in age ! my rise in low estate ! 
 My soul's ambition, pleasiu'e, wealth ! my world ! 590 
 My light in darkness ! and my life in death I 
 M)^ boast through time ! bliss through eternity ! 
 Eternity, too short to speak thy praise. 
 Or fathom thy profound of love to man I 
 To man of men the meanest, ev'n to me ; 595 
 
 My sacrifice ! my God ! — what things are these. 
 
 What then art Thou ? By what name shall I call Thee : 
 Knew I the name devout archangels use, 
 Devout archangels should the name enjoy. 
 By me unrivall'd ;' thousands more sublime, 50O 
 
 None half so dear as that which, though unspoke, 
 Still glows at heart. O how Omnipotence 
 ?s lo3t in love I thou great Philanthropist ! 
 
70 THE COMPLAINT. J\fiffht IF. 
 
 '&' 
 
 Father of angels I but the friend of man ! 
 
 Like Jacob, fondest of the younger born ! 605 
 
 Thou who didst save him, snatch the smoking brand 
 
 From out the flames, and quench it in tliy blood ! 
 
 How art thou pleased by bounty to distress ? 
 
 To make us groan beneath our gratitude, 
 
 Too big for birth ! to favour and confound ; 610 
 
 To challenge, and to distance all return ! 
 
 Of lavish love stupendous heights to soar. 
 
 And leave praise panting in the distant vale I 
 
 Thy right too great defrauds thee of thy due, 
 
 And sacrilegious our sublimest song. 615 
 
 But since the naked will obtains thy smile, 
 
 Beneath this monument of praise unpaid. 
 
 And future life symphonious to my strain, 
 
 (That noblest hymn to heav''n !) for ever lie 
 
 EntombM my fear of death ! and ev''ry fear, 620 
 
 The dread of ev'ry evil but Thy frown. 
 
 Whom see I yonder so demurely smile ? 
 Laughter a labour, and might break their rest. 
 Ye Quietists, in homage to the skies ! 
 F:^erene ! of soft address ! who mildly make 625 
 
 An imobtrusive tender of your hearts, 
 Abhorring violence I who halt indeed ; 
 But, for the blessing, wrestle not with Heaven ! 
 Think you my song too turbulent ? too warm ? 
 Are passions, then, the pagans of the soul ? 630 
 
 Heason alone baptized ! alone ordain'd 
 To touch things sacred ? Oh for warmer still ! 
 Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumbs my pow'rs : 
 Oh for an humbler heart and prouder song ! 
 Thou, my much-injured theme ! with that soft eye 635 
 Which melted o'er doomM Salem, deign to look 
 Compassion to the coldness of my breast, 
 And pardon to the winter in my strain. 
 
 O ye cold-hearted frozen formalists ! 
 On such a theme ''tis impious to be calm ; 640 
 
 Passion is reason, transport temper, here. 
 Shall Heav''n, v/hich gave us ardour, and has shown 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 71 
 
 Her own for man so strongly, not disdain 
 
 What smooth emollients in theology, 
 
 Recumbent virtue's downy doctor's preach, 645 
 
 That prose of piety, a lukewarm praise ? 
 
 Rise odours sweet from incense uninflamed? 
 
 Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout ; 
 
 But when it glows, its heat is struck to heav'n ; 
 
 To human hearts her golden harps are strtsng ; 650 
 
 High heav'n's orchestra chants Amen to man. 
 
 Hear I, 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, 655 
 
 To cheer me in this melancholy gloom ? 
 
 Oh when will death (now stingles?) 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 ? 660 
 
 O death divine ! that giv'st us to the skies I 
 
 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, 665 
 
 This dark incarcerating colony 
 
 Divides us. Happy day that breaks our chain ! 
 
 That manumits ; that calls from exile home ; 
 
 That leads to Nature's great metropolis. 
 
 And re-admits us, through the guardian hand 670 
 
 Of elder brothers, to our Father's throne, 
 
 Who hears our advocate, and through his wounds 
 
 Beholding man, allows that tender name. 
 
 'Tis this makes Christian triumph a command ; 
 
 'Tis this makes joy a duty to the wise. 675 
 
 'Tis impious in a good man to be sad. 
 
 Seest thou, Lorenzo, where hangs all our hope ? 
 Touch'd by the cross we live, or more than die ; 
 That touch which touch'd not angels ; more divine 
 Than that which touch'd confusion into form, 680 
 
 And darkness into glory : partial touch ! 
 
'72 THE COMPLAINT. jViglU li' . 
 
 Inefiably pre-eminent regard ! > 
 
 Sacred to man, and sovereign through the whole 
 
 Long golden chain of miracles, which hangs 
 
 Erom heav'n through all duration, and supports, 686 
 
 In one illustrious and amazing plan. 
 
 Thy v/elfare, Nature, and thy God's renown ; 
 
 That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul 
 
 Diseased, drives pain from guilt, lights life in death, 
 
 Turn earth to heav'n, to heav'nly thrones transforms 
 
 The ghastly ruins of the raould'ring tomb. 691 
 
 Dost ask me when ? When He who died returns ; 
 Returns, how changed ! 'where then the man of wo? 
 In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns. 
 And all his courts exhausted by the tide 695 
 
 Of deities triumphant in his train, 
 Leave a stupendous solitude in heav'n ; 
 Repleni^h'd soon, replenish'd with increase 
 Of pomp and multitude ; a radiant band 
 Of angels new, of angels from the tomb. "iOO 
 
 Is this by fancy thrown remote ? and rise 
 Dark doubts between the promise and event? 
 I send thee not two volumes for thy cure ; 
 Read Nature ; Nature is a friend to truth ; 
 Nature is Christian ; preaches to mankind, 705 
 
 And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 
 Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight ? 
 Th' illustrious stranger passing, terror sheds 
 On gazing nations from his fiery train. 
 Of length enormous, takes his ample round 710 
 
 Thro' depths of ether ; coasts unnuraber'd worlds, 
 Of more than solar glory ; doubles wide 
 Heav'n's mighty cape ; and then revisits earth, 
 From the long travel of a thousand years. 
 Thus, at the destined period, shall return 715 
 
 He, once on earth, who bids the comet blaze ; 
 And, with him, all our triumph o'er the tomb. 
 
 Nature is dumb on this important point. 
 Or Hope precarious in low Avhisper breathes : 
 Faith spealis aloud, distinct ; ev'n adders hear^ 720 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 73 
 
 But turn, and dart into the dark a^ain. 
 Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of Death, 
 To break the shock blind Nature cannot shun, 
 And lands Thought smoothly on the farther shore. 
 Death's terror is the mountain Faith removes, 725 
 
 That mountain-barrier between man and peace. 
 'Tis 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 ; 730 
 
 Nor shalt thou want a rival in thy flame : 
 All-sacred Reason ! source and soul of all 
 Demanding praise on earth, or earth above I 
 My heart is thine : deep in its inmost folds 
 Live thou with life ; live dearer of the two. 735 
 
 Wear I the blessed cross, by Fortune stamp'd 
 On passive Nature before Thought was born ? 
 My birth's blind bigot I fired with local zeal ! 
 No ; Reason rebaptized me when adult ; 
 Weigh'd true and false in her impartial scale, 740 
 
 My heart became the convert of my head. 
 And made that choice which once was but my fate. 
 ' On argument alone my faith is built :' 
 Reason pursued is faith ; and unpursued. 
 Where proof invites, 'tis reason then no more ; 745 
 And such our proof, that, or our faith is right, 
 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 ; 750 
 
 The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear. 
 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. 755 
 
 Wrong not the Christian : think not reason yours ; 
 'Tis reason our great Master holds so dear ; 
 *Tis reason's injur' d rights his wrath resents ; 
 'Tis reason's voice obev'd. his erlorious cro"\vn: 
 7 ' ^ 
 
74 THE COMPLAIJSfT. Night IV. 
 
 To give loet reason life, he pour'd his own. 760 
 
 Believe, and show the reason of a man ; 
 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 djang, tenfold terror gives to death, 765 
 
 And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting. 
 
 Learn hence what honours, what loud paeans, due, 
 To those who push our antidote aside ; 
 Those boasted friends to reason and to man, 
 Whose fatal love stabs every joy, and leaves 770 
 
 Death's terror heightenM gnawing at his heart. 
 These pompous sons of reason idolized, 
 And vilified at once ; of reason dead. 
 Then deified as monarchs were of old ; 
 What conduct plants proud laurels on their brow ? 775 
 While love of truth thro\all their camp resounds, 
 They draw Pride''s curtain o'er the noon-tide ray, 
 Strike up their inch of reason on the point 
 Of philosophic wit, call'd Argument, 
 And then exulting in their taper, cry, 780 
 
 ' Behold the sun !' and, Indian-like, adore. 
 
 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, 785 
 
 (Nor will they 'bate of that sublime renown) 
 As wise as Socrates, might justly stand 
 The definition of a modern fool. 
 
 A Christian is the higliest style of man. 
 And is there who the blessed cross wipes off, 790 
 
 As a foul blot, from his dishonour'd brow .'' 
 If angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight : 
 The wretcli they quit, desponding of their charge, 
 More struck with grief or wonder who can tell ? 
 
 Ye sold to sense ! ye citizens of earth ! 795 
 
 (For such alone the Christian banner fly) 
 Know ye how wise your choice, how great your gain .' 
 jB^hold the picture of eartli's happiest man : 
 
THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 75 
 
 ' He calls his wish, it comes ; he sends it back, 
 
 And says he calPd another ; that arrives, 800 
 
 Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on ; 
 
 Till one calls him, who varies not his call, 
 
 But holds him fast, in chains of darknegs bound. 
 
 Till Nature dies, and judgment sets him free ; 
 
 A freedom far less welcome than his chain.'' 805 
 
 But grant man happy ; grant him happy long ; 
 Add to life''s highest prize her latest hour ; 
 That hour, so late, is nimble in approach, 
 That, like a post, comes on in full career. 
 How swift the shuttle flies that weaves thy shroud ! 810 
 Where is the fable of thy former years ? 
 Thrown down the ^ulf of lime ; 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 possessed, so suddenly 'tis gone, 015 
 
 And each swift moment fled, is death advanced 
 By strides as swift. Eternity is all : 
 And whose eternity ? who triumphs there ? 
 Bathing for ever in the font of bliss I 
 For ever basking in trie Deity ! 820 
 
 Lorenzo, who : — Ihy conscience sliall reply. 
 
 O give it leave to speak ; 'twill 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, 825 
 
 Truth is deposited Avith man's last hour ; 
 An honest hour, and faithful to her trust ; 
 Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity ! 
 Truth of his council when he inad« the worlds I 
 Nor less, when he ghall judge the worlds he made ; 
 Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 
 Smother'd with errors, and oppress'd with toys. 
 That heaven-commission'd hour no sooner calls. 
 But from her cavern in the soul's abyss. 
 Like him they fable under JEtna. whelm'd, 835 
 
 The goddess bursts in thunder and in flame. 
 Loudly convincei?, and severely pains. 
 
76 THE COMPLAINT. Night IV. 
 
 Dark daemons I discharge, and hydra-stings ; 
 
 The keen vibration of bright truth — is hell ; 
 
 Just definition ! though by schools untaught. 840 
 
 Ye deaf to truth, peruse this parson'd page. 
 
 And trust, for once, a prophet and a priest : 
 
 '' Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.' 
 
THE COMPLAIN r. 
 
 NIGHT V. 
 
 000 
 
 THE RELAPSE. 
 
 Inscribed to the Rt. Hon. the Earl of Litchjield. 
 
 LORENZO ! to rccviiuinate is just. 
 Fondness for fame is avarice of air. 
 I grant the man is vain who writes for praise. 
 Praise no man e''er deserved, who sought no morr. 
 
 As just thy second chargfe. I grant the musf; '> 
 
 Has often blushM at her degen'rale sons, 
 RetainM by sense to plead her filthy cause, 
 To raise the low, to magnify the mean, 
 And subtilize the gross into refined ; 
 As if to magic numbers"' pow"'rful charm 10 
 
 ■Twas gi^^n to make a civet of their song 
 Obscene, and sweeten ordure to perfume. 
 Wit, a true Pttgan, deifies the brute, 
 \nd lifts oiu" swine-enjoyments from the mire. 
 
 The fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. To 
 
 We wear the chains of pleasure and of pride : 
 These share the man, and these distract him too ; 
 Draw different ways, and clash in their commands. 
 Pride, like an eagle, build.s among the stars ; 
 But Pleasure, lark-like, nests upon the ground. 20 
 
 .loys shared by brute creation Pride resents ; 
 Pleasure embraces : man would both enjoy. 
 And both at once : a point how hard to gain ! 
 But what corft Wit, when slung by strong desire ? 
 7* 
 
78 THE COMPLAINT. Night V. 
 
 Wit dares attempt this arduous enterprise. 25 
 
 Since joys of sense can't rise to Reason's taste, 
 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 ; 30 
 
 Nor less than a plump god to fill the bowl : 
 A thousand phantoms and a thousand spells, 
 A thousand opiates scatters to delude. 
 To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep. 
 And the fool'd mind delightfully confound. 35 
 
 Thus that which shock'd the judgment shocks no more : 
 That which gave Pride offence no more offends. 
 Pleasure and Pride, by nature mortal foes, 
 At war eternal "wdiich in man shall reign, 
 Jij Wit's address patch up a fatal peace, 40 
 
 And hand-in-hand lead on the rank debauch, 
 From rank refined to delicate and gay. 
 Art, cursed Art ! wipes off 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. 
 
 All writ by man in favour of the soul. 
 These sensual ethics far in bulk transcend. 
 The flow'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 'tis 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 ? 
 
THE RELAPSE. 79 
 
 There is in Poesy a decent pride, 
 
 Which well becomes her when she speaks to Prose, 6f> 
 
 Her younger sister, haply not more wise. 
 
 Think' st thou, Lorenzo, to find pastimes here ? 
 No guilty passion blown into a flame, 
 No foible flatter'd, dignity disgraced, 
 No fairy field of fiction, all on flower, 70 
 
 No rainbow colours here, or silken tale ; 
 But solemn counsels, images of awe. 
 Truths which Eternity lets fall on man 
 With double weight, thro' these revolving spheres. 
 This death-deep silence, and incumbent shade ; 75 
 
 Thoughts such as shall revisit your last hour 
 Visit uncall'd, and live when life expires ; 
 And thy dark pencil. Midnight ! darker still 
 In melancholy dipp'd, embrowns the whole. 
 
 Yet this, even this, my laughter-loving friends, 80 
 Lorenzo ! and thy brothers of the smile ! 
 If what imports you most can most engage. 
 Shall steal your ear, and chain you to my song. 
 Or if you fail me, know the wise shall taste 
 The truths I sing ; the truths I sing shall feel, 85 
 
 And, feeling, give assent ; and their assent 
 Is ample recompense ; is more than praise. 
 But chiefly thine, O Litchfield ! nor mistake ! 
 Think not unintroduced I force my way ; 
 Narcissa, not unknown, not unallied 90 
 
 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 : 95 
 
 Thy praise she drops, by nobler still inspired. 
 
 O thou, blest Spirit ! whether the supreme, 
 Great antemundane Father ! in whose breast 
 Embryo creation, unborn being, dwelt, 
 And all its various revolutions roll'd 100 
 
 Present, though future, prior to themselves ; 
 Whose breath can blow it into nought again. 
 
so iHE COMPLAINT. .Xlgki F.' 
 
 Or from his throne some delegated povv^-, 
 
 Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought 
 
 From vain and vile, to solid and sublime ! 105 
 
 Unseen thou lead'st me to delicious draughts 
 
 Of inspiration, from a purer stream. 
 
 And fuller of the God than that which burst 
 
 From famed Castalia ; nor is yet allayM 
 
 My sacred thirst, though long my soul has ranged 110 
 
 Through pleasing paths of moral and divine, 
 
 By thee sustainM, and lighted by the stars. 
 
 By them best lighted are the paths of thought ; 
 Nights are their days, their most illumined hours ! , 
 
 By day the soul, overborne by life's career, llil 
 
 StunnM 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 
 Imposed, precarious, broken, ere mature. 
 By night, from objects free, from passion cool, 120 
 
 Thoughts uncontroliM and unimpresr-"'d, the births 
 Of pure election, arbitrary range. 
 Not to the limits of one world confined, 
 But from ethereal travels light on earth, 
 As vo3'agers drop anchor for repose. 125 
 
 Let Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond 
 Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore ; 
 Darkness has more divinity for me ; 
 It strikes thought imvard ; it drives back tlie soul 
 To settle on herself, our point supreme ! 130 
 
 There lies our tiieatre ; tl:e!-e sits our judse. 
 13arkiies? the curtain drops o'er life's diiU fcene ; 
 ^Tis the kind Jiand of Providence stretched, out 
 'Twixt man and vanity ; 'tis Reason's reign, 
 And Virtue's too ; these tutelary shades 135 
 
 Are man's asylum from the tainted throng. 
 Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too. 
 It no less rescues virtue than inspires. 
 
 Virtue, for ever frail as fair, below. 
 Her tender nature sufiers in the crowd, 140 
 
 Nor totiches ci the v/orld witliout a stain. 
 
• THE RELAPSE. 81 
 
 Tbe world's infectious ; few bring back at eve, 
 
 Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 
 
 Something we thought, is blotted ; we resolved, 
 
 Is shaken ; we renounced, returns again. 145 
 
 Each salutation may slide in a sin 
 
 Unthought before, or fix a former flaw. 
 
 Nor is it strange ; light, motion, concourse, noise, 
 
 All scatter us abroad. Thought, outward-bound, 
 
 Neglectful of our home affairs, flies off 150 
 
 In fume and dissipation, quits her charge. 
 
 And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe. 
 
 Present example gets within our guard. 
 And acts with double force, by few repelPd. 
 Ambition fires ambition ; love of gain 155 
 
 Strikes, like a pestilence from breast to breast : 
 Riot, pride, perfidy, blue vapours breathe, 
 And inhumanity is caught from man. 
 From smiling man ! A slight, a single glance, 
 And shot at random, often has brought home 160 
 
 A sudden fever to the throbbing heart 
 Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 
 We see, we hear, with peril ; safety dwells 
 Remote from multitude. The world's a school 
 Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around ! 165 
 We must or imitate or disapprove ; 
 Must list as their accomplices or foes : 
 That stains our innocence, this wounds our peace. 
 From Nature's birth, hence. Wisdom has been smit 
 With sAveet recess, and languish'd for the shade. 170 
 
 This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? 
 "Tis the felt presence of the Deity. 
 Few are the faults we flatter when alone. 
 Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt. 
 And looks, like other objects, black by night. 175 
 
 By night an atheist half believes a God. 
 
 Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend. 
 The conscious moon, through ev'ry distant age, 
 Has held a lamp to Wisdom, and let fall 
 On Contemplation's eye her purging ray. 180 
 
82 THE COMPLAINT. Night V. 
 
 The famed Athenian, he who wooed from heavea 
 
 Philosophy the fair, to dwell with men, 
 
 And form their manners, not inflame their pride ; 
 
 While o'er his head, as fearful to molest 
 
 His lab'ring mind, the stars in silence slide, 185 
 
 And seem all gazing on their future guest, 
 
 See him soliciting his ardent suit 
 
 In private audience ; all the livelong night, 
 
 Rigid in thought, and motionless he stands. 
 
 Nor quits his theme or posture till the sun 190 
 
 (Rude drunkard ! rising rosy from the main) 
 
 Disturbs his nobler intellectual beam. 
 
 And gives him to the tumult of the world. 
 
 Hail, precious moments ! stol'n from the black waste 
 
 Of murder'd time I auspicious Midnight, hail I 195 
 
 The world excluded, ev'ry passion hush'd, 
 
 And opened a calm intercourse with heav^'n. 
 
 Here the soul sits in council, ponders past, 
 
 Predestines future actions ; sees, not feels. 
 
 Tumultuous life, and reasons with the storm ; 200 
 
 All her lies answers, and thiaks down her charms. 
 
 What awful joy ! what mental liberty ! 
 1 am not pent in darkness ; rather say 
 (If not too bold) in darkness I'm embower'd. 
 Delightful gloom ! the clust'ring thoughts around 205 
 Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade. 
 But droop by day, and sicken in the sun. 
 Thought borrows light elsewhere : from that first fire, 
 J'onntain of animation ! whence descends 
 Urania, my celestial guest ! who deigns 210 
 
 Nightly to vi^it me, so mean; and now. 
 Conscious how needful discipline to man, 
 From pleasing dalliance with the charms of night, 
 My wand'ring thought recalls, to what excites 
 Far other beat of heart, Narcissa's tomb ! 21 ti 
 
 Or is it feeble Nature calls me back. 
 And breaks my spirit into grief again ? 
 Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood ? 
 A cold slow puddle creepiog" through my vein? -* 
 
THE RELAPSE. 83 
 
 Or is it Urns with all men ? — Thus with all. 220 
 
 What are we ? how unequal ! now we soar, 
 
 And now we sink. To be the same transcends 
 
 Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul 
 
 For lodging ill ; too dearly rents her clay. 
 
 Reason, a baffled counsellor ! but adds 225 
 
 The blush of weakness to the bane of wo. 
 
 The noblest spirit, fighting her hard fate 
 
 In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms, 
 
 But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly ; 
 
 Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall : 230 
 
 Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again, 
 
 And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise. 
 
 'Tis vain to seek in men for more than man. 
 Though proud in promise, big in previous thought, 
 Experience damps our triumph. I, who late 23cj 
 
 Emerging from the shadows of the grave. 
 Where grief detainM me prisoner, mounting high. 
 Threw wide the gates of everlasting day, 
 And call'd mankind to glory, shook oflTpain, 
 Mortality shook ofl", in ether pure, 240 
 
 And struck the stars, now feel my spirits fail ; 
 They drop me from the zenith ; down I rush, 
 Like him whom fable fledged with waxen wings. 
 In sorrow drown'd — but not in sorrow lost. 
 How wretched is the man who never mournM ! 245 
 I dive for precious pearl in sorrow's stream : 
 Not so the thoughtless man that only grieves, 
 Takes all the torment, and rejects the gain ; 
 (Inestimable gain) and gives Heav'n leave 
 To make him but more wretched, not more wise. 250 
 
 If wisdom is our lesson (and what else 
 Ennobles man ? what else have angels learn'd ?) 
 Grief! more proficients in thy school are made, 
 Than genius or proud learning e'er could boast. 
 Voracious learning, often over-fed, 255 
 
 iDigest not into sense her motley meal. 
 This bookcase, with dark booty almost burst, 
 iThis forager on others' wisdom, leavijs 
 
84 THE COMPLAINT. JVigkt V. 
 
 Her native farm, her reason, quite untill'd. 
 
 With mix'd manure she surfeits the rank soil, 260 
 
 Dung'd, but not dress'd, and rich to beggary : 
 
 A pomp untameable of weeds prevails : 
 
 Her servant's wealth encumber'd Wisdom mourns. 
 
 And what says Genius ? ' Let the dull be wise.' 
 Genius ; too hard for right, can prove it wrong, 265 
 And loves to boast, where blush men less inspired. 
 It pleads exemption from the laws of sense, 
 Considers reason as a leveller, 
 And scorns to share a blessing with the crowd. 
 That wise it could be, thinks an ample claim 270 
 
 To glory, and to pleasure gives the rest. 
 Crassus but sleeps, Ardelio is undone. 
 Wisdom less shudders at a fool than wit. 
 
 But wisdom smiles, when humbled mortals weep. 
 When sorrow wounds the breast, as ploughs the glebe, 
 And hearts obdurate feel her softening shower : 276 
 Her seed celestial, then, glad wisdom sows ; 
 Her golden harvest triumphs in the soil. 
 If so, Narcissa, welcome my relapse ; 
 m raise a tax on my calamity, 280 
 
 And reap rich compensation from my pain, 
 ni range the plenteous intellectual field, 
 And gather evVy thought of sovereign pow'r 
 To chase the moral maladies of man ; 
 Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, 
 Though natives of this coarse penurious soil ; 286 
 
 Nor wholly wither there where seraphs sing, 
 Refined, exalted, not annull'd, in heav'n : 
 Reason, the sun that gives them birth, the same 
 In either clime, though more illustrious there. 290 
 
 These, choicely cull'd and elegantly ranged, 
 Shall form a garland for Narcissa's tomb. 
 And, peradventure, of no fading flow'rs. 
 
 Say, on what themes shall puzzled choice descend ? 
 ' Th' importance of contemplating the tomb ; 295 
 
 Why men decline it ; suicide's foul birth ; 
 The various kind^ of ariof : the fault? of ns'O ; 
 
THE RELAPSE. 85 
 
 And death''s dread character — invite my song.' 
 
 And, first, th' importance of our end suvvey'd. 
 Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief. 300 
 
 Mistaken kindness ! our hearts heal too soon. 
 Are they more kind than He, who struck the blow ? 
 Who bid it do his errand in our hearts. 
 And banish peace, till nobler guests arrive, 
 And bring it back a true and endless peace ? 305 
 
 Calamities are friends : as glaring day 
 Of these unnumberM lustres robs our sight, 
 Prosperity puts out unnumberM thoughts 
 Of import high, and light divine to man. 
 
 The man how bless'd, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 310 
 (Scenes apt to thrust betAveen us and ourselves !) 
 Is led by choice to take his fav'rite walk 
 Beneath Death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, 
 Unpierced by Vanity's fantastic ra^' ; 
 To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 315 
 
 Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 
 Lorenzo, read with me Narcissa's stone ; 
 (Narcissa was thy favorite !) let us read 
 Her moral stone ; few doctors preach so well ; 
 Few orators so tenderly can touch 320 
 
 The feeling heart. What pathos in the date I 
 Apt words can strike ; and yet in them we see 
 Faint images of what we here enjoy. 
 What cause have we to build on length of life ? 
 Temptation^ seize when fear is laid asleep, - 325 
 And ill foreboded is our stronarest guard. 
 
 See from her tomb, as from an humble shrine, 
 Truth, radiant goddess, sallies on my soul, 
 And puts delusion's dusky train to Might ; 
 Dispels the mist our sultry passions raise 330 
 
 From objects low, terrestrial, and obscene, 
 And shows the real estimate of things, 
 Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw ; 
 Pulls off the veil from virtue's rising charms ; 
 Detects temptation in a thousand lies. 335 
 
 Tnith bids me look on men as autiunn leaves, 
 
86 THE COMPLAINT. Night V 
 
 And all they bleed for, as the summer's dust 
 
 Driven by the whirlwind : lighted by her beams, 
 
 I widen my horizon, gain new pow'rs, 
 
 See things invisible, feel things remote, 340 
 
 Am present with futurities ; think nought 
 
 To man so foreign as the joys possess'd ; 
 
 Nought so much his as those beyond the grave. 
 
 No folly keeps its colour in her sight ; 
 Pale worldly wisdom loses all her charms ; 34S 
 
 In pompous promise from her schemes profound, 
 If future fate she plans, 'tis all in leaves, 
 Like Sibyl, unsubstantial fleeting bliss ! 
 At the first blast it vanishes in air. 
 Not so, celestial. Would'st thou know, Lorenzo, 350 
 How differ worldly wisdom and divine ? 
 Just as the waning and the waxing moon : 
 More empty worldly wisdom ev'ry day ; 
 And evVy day more fair her rival shines. 
 When later, there's less time to play the fool. 355 
 
 Soon our whole term for wisdom is expired, 
 (Thou know'st she calls no council in the grave) 
 And everlasting fool is writ in fire, 
 Or real wisdom wafts us to the skies. 
 
 As worldly schemes resemble Sibyl's leaves, 360 
 
 The good man's days to Sibyl's books compare, 
 (In ancient story read, thou know'st the tale) 
 In price still rising as in number less, 
 Inestimable quite his final hour. 
 
 For that, who thrones can offer, offer thrones ; 365 
 Insolvent worlds the purchase cannot pay. 
 ' Oh, let me die his death !' all nature cries. 
 * Then live his life.' — All nature falters there ; 
 Our great physician daily to consult. 
 To commune with the grave, our only cure. 370 
 
 What grave prescribes the best? — A friend's ; and yet 
 From a friend's grave how soon we disengage I 
 E'en to the dearest, as his marble, cold. 
 Why are friends ravish'd from us ? 'Tis to bind. 
 By soft affection's ties, on human heart« 375 
 
THE RELAPSE. 87 
 
 The thought of death, which reason, too supine, 
 Or raisemploj'd, so rarely fastens there. 
 Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both 
 Combined, can break the witchcrafts of the world. 
 Behold th' inexorable hour at hand I 380 
 
 Behold th'' inexorable hour forgot ! 
 And to forget it tlie chief aim of life. 
 Though well to ponder it is life's chief end. 
 
 Is death. tJiat ever threatening, ne''er remote, 
 That all-important, and that only sure, 385 
 
 (Come when he will) an unexpected guest ? 
 Nay, though invited by the loudest calls 
 Of blind imprudence, unexpected still ; 
 Though numerous messengers are sent before 
 To warn his great arrival. What the cause, 390 
 
 The wondrous cause, of this mysterious ill ? 
 All heaven looks down, astonish'd at the sight. 
 
 Is it that life has sown her joys so thick, 
 We can't thrust in a single care between ? 
 Is it that life has such a swarm of cares, 3!)S 
 
 The thought of death can't enter for the throng ? 
 Is it that time steals on with downy feet, 
 Nor wakes indulgence from her golden dream ? 
 To-day is so like yesterday it cheats : 
 We take the Ijing sister for the same. 400 
 
 Life glides awa3^, Lorenzo, like a brook, 
 For ever changing, unperceived the change. 
 In the same brook none ever bathed him twice ; 
 To the same Hfe none ever twice awoke. 
 We call the brook the same ; the same we think 40.5 
 Our life, though still more rapid in its flow ; 
 Nor mark the much, irrevocably lapsed, 
 And mingled with the sea. Or shall Ave say 
 (Retaining still the brook to bear us on,) 
 That life is like a vessel on the stream ? 410 
 
 In life embarked, we smoothly down the tide 
 Of time descend, but not on time intent ; 
 Amused, unconscious of the gliding Avave ; 
 Till on a sudden we perceive a shock : 
 
€8 THE COMPLAINT. JVight V. 
 
 We start, awake, look out ; what see we there I 415 
 Our brittle bark is burst on Charon^'s shore. 
 
 Is this the cause death flies all human thought .' 
 Or is it judgment, by the will struck blind, 
 That domineering mistress of the soul ! 
 Like him so strong, by Delilah the fair ? 420 
 
 Or is it fear turns startled reason back, 
 From looking down a precipice so steep ? 
 'Tis dreadful ; and the dread is wisely placed, 
 By nature, conscious of the inake of man. 
 A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind, 425 
 
 A flaming sword, to guard the free of life. 
 By that unawed, in life's most smiling hour, 
 The good man would repine ; would suffer joys, 
 And burn impatient for his promised skies. 
 The bad, on each punctilious pique of pride, 430 
 
 Or gloom of humour, would give rage the rein ; 
 Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark, 
 And mar the schemes of Providence below. 
 
 What groan was that, Lorenzo ? — Furies ! rise ; 
 And droAvn 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. 
 Less base the fear of death than fear of life. 440 
 
 O Britain ! infamous for suicide ! 
 An island, in thy manners, far disjoin'd 
 From the whole world of rationals beside ! 
 In ambient waves plunge thy polluted head, 445 
 
 Wash the dire stain, nor shock the continent. 
 
 But thou be shock'd, while I detect the cause 
 Of self-assault, expose the 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 absolved ; 
 Immoral climes kind nature never made. 
 The cause I sing in Eden might prevail ; 
 
THE RELAP3E. 89 
 
 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 I 
 High-born and free, her freedom should maintain, 
 Unsold, unmortgaged 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 
 "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 ; 
 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 sAvays 
 This nether world. And when his payments fail, 
 When his foul basket gorges them no more^, 
 Or their pall'd palates loathe the basket full, 
 Are instantly, with wild demoniac rage, 475 
 
 For breaking all the chains of Providence ; 
 And bursting their confinement, though fast barr'd 
 By laws divine and human ; guarded strong 
 With horrors doubled to defend the pass. 
 The blackest, nature or dire guilt can raise ; 480 
 
 And moated round with fathomless destruction. 
 Sure to receive, and whelm them in their fall. 
 
 Such, Britons ! is the cause, to you unknown. 
 Or, worse, o'erlook'd ; o'erlook'd by magistrates, 
 Thus criminals themselves. 1 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 nionstrous births ; and suicide, to crown 
 The black infernal brood. The bold, to break 490 
 Heav'n's law supreme, and desperately rush 
 8* 
 
90 THE COMPLAINT. JVigkt V. 
 
 Through sacred nature's murder on their own, 
 
 Because they never think of death, they die. 
 
 'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain, 
 
 At once to shun and meditate his end. 496 
 
 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 
 
 JStart 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. 510 
 
 We bleed, we tremble, we forget, we smile. 
 
 The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry. 
 
 Our quick-returning folly cancels all ; 
 As the tide rushing 'rases what is writ 
 In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore. 515 
 
 Lorenzo ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh ? 
 Or studied the philosophy of tears ? 
 (A science yet unlectured in our schools !) 
 Hast thou descended deep into the breast. 
 And seen their source? If not, descend with me, 520 
 And trace these briny riv'lets to their springs. 
 Our fun'ral tears from diif'rent causes rise : 
 As if from separate cisterns in the soul. 
 Of various kinds they flow. From tender hearts, 
 By soft contagion call'd, some burst at once, 525 
 
 And stream obsequious to the leading eye. 
 Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd. 
 Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt, 
 Struck by the magic of the public eye, 
 Jvike Moses' smitten rock, gush out amain. 530 
 
THE RELAPSE. 91 
 
 Some weep to share the fame of the deceased, 
 
 So high in merit, and to them so dear : 
 
 They dwell on praises which they think they share ; 
 
 And thus, without a blush, commend themselves. 
 
 Some mourn in proof that something they could love : 
 
 They weep not to reheve their grief, but show. 536 
 
 Some weep in perfect justice to the dead, 
 
 As conscious all their love is in arrear. 
 
 Some mischievously weep, not unapprised, 
 
 Tears sometimes aid the conquest of an eye. 540 
 
 With what address the soft Ephesians draw 
 
 Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts ! 
 
 As seen through crystal, how their roses glow. 
 
 While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek ! 
 
 Of hers not prouder Egypt's wanton queen, 545 
 
 Carousing gems, herself dissolved in love. 
 
 Some weep at death, abstracted from the dead, 
 
 And celebrate, like 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 wo. 
 Passion, blind passion, impotently pours 
 Tears that deserve more tears, while Reason sleeps, 
 Or gazes, like an idiot, unconcern'd, 555 
 
 Nor comprehends the meaning' of the storm ; 
 Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone. 
 Irrationals all sorrow are beneath, 
 That noble gift I that privilege of man ! 
 From sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy. 5G0 
 
 But these are barren of that birth divine : 
 They weep impetuous as the summer storm, 
 And full as short ! the cruel grief soon tamed, 
 They make a pastime of the stingiess tale ; 
 Far as the deep-resounding knell, they spread 5C5 
 
 The dreadful news, and hardly feel it more : 
 No gain of wisdom pays them for their wo. 
 
 Half round the globe, the tears pump'd up by death 
 Are spent in wat'ring vanities of life ; 
 
92 THE COMPLAINT. JViskt V. 
 
 a' 
 
 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, 
 
 Tho' there thrown down her true support to learn, 
 
 Without Heaven's 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 fancied, at the ball, 
 
 And raffles for the death's-head on the ring. 
 
 So wept Aurelia, till the destined 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 died to give him, orphan'd in his birth I 
 Not such, Narcissa, my distress for thee ; 
 I'll make an altar of thy sacred tomb, 590 
 
 To sacrifice to wisdom. What wast thou ? 
 *• Young, gay, and fortunate !' Each yields a theme : 
 I'll dwell on each, to shun thought more severe ; 
 (Heav'n knows I labour with severer slill I) 
 I'll dwell on each, and quite exhaust thy death. 59o 
 A soul without reflection, like a pile 
 Without inhabitant, to ruin runs. 
 
 And, first, tliy youth : what s&ys it 1o grey hairs ; 
 Narcissa, I'm become thy pupil now, — 
 Karly, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 600 
 She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heav'n. 
 Time on this head has snow'd, yet still 'tis borne 
 Aloft, nor tliinks but on another's grave, 
 ^over'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 I 
 
THE RELAPSE. v 93 
 
 As if, like objects pressing on the sight, 
 
 Death had advanced too near us to be seen ; 610 
 
 Or that life's loan time ripened into right, 
 
 And men might plead prescription from the grave ; 
 
 Deathless, from repetition of reprieve. 
 
 Deathless ? far from it I such are dead already ; 
 
 Their hearts are buried, and the world their grave. 615 
 
 Tell me, some god ! my guardian angel, tell 
 \'^''hat thus infatuates ? what enchantment plants 
 The phantom of an age 'twixt us and death, 
 Already at the door ? He knocks ; we hear. 
 And yet we will not hear. What mail defends 620 
 Our untouchM hearts ? what miracle turns off 
 The pointed thought, which from a thousand quivers 
 Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd ? 
 We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs 
 Around us falling, wounded oft ourselves ; 625 
 
 Though bleeding with our wounds, immortal still I 
 We see time's furrows on another's brow. 
 And death, intrench'd, preparing his assauit : 
 How few themselves in that just mirror see 1 
 Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong I 630 
 
 There death is certain ; doubtful here : he must, 
 And soon : we may, within an age, expire. 
 Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green I 
 Like damag'd clocks, whose hand and bell dissent ; 
 Folly sings six, while nature points at twelve. 635 
 
 Absurd longevity I More, more, it cries : 
 More life, more v/ealth, 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 
 
 Bauble?, 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 e'en now 
 To relish what alone subsists hereafter. 
 
94 THE COMPLAINT. Night V. 
 
 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 bhss. 
 
 What weakness see not children in their sires ! 
 
 Grand-climacterical absurdities ! 
 
 Grey-hair'd authority, to faults of youth 
 
 How shocking ! it makes folly thiice 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 ivilPs subdue ; 
 Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore 
 Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon, 670 
 
 And put good works on board, and wait the wind 
 That shortly blows vis into worlds unknown : 
 If unconsiderM, too, a dreadful scene ! 
 
 All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
 Their future fate ; their future fate foretaste : 675 
 
 This art would waste the bitterness of death. 
 The thought of death alone the fear destroys : 
 A disaffection to that precious thought 
 Is more than midnight darkness on the soul, 
 Which sleeps beneath it on a precipice, 680 
 
 Puff'd off by the first blast, and lost for ever. 
 
 Dost ask, Lorenzo, why so wai-mly press'd, 
 By repetition hammerM on thine ear. 
 The thought of death ? That thought is the machine, 
 The grand machine, that heaves us from the dust, 685 
 And roars us into mm ! That thought ply'd home, 
 
THE RFXAPSE. 95 
 
 Will soon reduce the ghastly precipice 
 
 O'erhanging hell, will soften the descent, 
 
 And gently slope »ur passage to the grave. 
 
 How warmly to be wish'^d ! what heart of flesh 690 
 
 Would trifle with treraendous ? 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 scissors 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 lo man : 
 Who, Jehu-like, behind him turns them all. 705 
 
 All accident apart, by nature sign''d, 
 My wan*ant 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 lind him there. 710 
 Man is a selF-survivor ev'ry T^ar. 
 Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. 
 Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey : 
 My youth, my noontide, his ; my yesterday * 
 The bold invader shares the present hour. 715 
 
 Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
 While man is growing, life is in decrease, 
 And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
 Our birth is nothing but our death begun, 
 As tapers waste that instant they take fire. 720 
 
 Shall we then fear, lest that should come to pass, 
 Which comes to pass each moment of onr lives ? 
 If fear we must, let that death turn us pale 
 Which murders strength and ardour ; what remains 
 Should rather r:{]} on de;^th. than dread hi^ call. 725 
 
96 THE COMPLAINT. JVigkt V, 
 
 Ye partners of my fault, and my decline ! 
 
 Thoughtless of death, but when your neighbour's knejl 
 
 (Rude visitant) knocks hard at jour dull sense, 
 
 And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear! 
 
 Be death your theme in every place and hour ; 730 
 
 Nor longer want, ye monumental sires, 
 
 A brother-tomb to tell you, you shall die. 
 
 That death you dread, (so great is nature's skill I) 
 
 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 knoAvledge, like our needful food, 740' 
 
 Unhedg'd, lies open in life's common field. 
 And bids all welcome to the vital feast. 
 You scorn what lies before you in the page 
 Of nature and experience, moral truth ; 
 Of indispensable, eternal fruit ; 74S 
 
 Fruit on which mortals, feeding, turn to gods ; 
 And dive in science for distinguish'd names, 
 Dishonest fomentation of your pride, 
 Sinking in virtue as you rise in fame. 
 Your learning, like the lu-Kr beam, affords 75^ 
 
 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 shock 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 ho})es of man. 
 What countless multitudes not on?y leave, 
 But deepiy disappoint us by their deaths ! 
 Though great our sorrow, greater out surprise. 
 
THE RELAPSE. 97 
 
 Like other tyrants death delights to smite, 765 
 
 What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of powV, 
 And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 
 To bid the wretcli survive the fortunate ; 
 And 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. 
 That 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 flattering tombs I 
 
 Narcissa's youth has lectured me thus far : 
 And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 
 That like the Jew's famed oracle of gems, 780 
 
 Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light. 
 And opens more the character of deatj], 
 111 known to thee, Lorenzo I This thy vaunt : 
 *• Give death his due, the wretched and the old ; 
 E'en let him sweep his rubbish to the grave ; 785 
 
 Let him not violate kind nature's laws, 
 But own man born to live as well as die.' 
 Wretched and old thou giv'st him : young and gay 
 He takes ; and plunder is a tjTant'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 brevit}" of life : 
 As if bright embers should emit a flame. 
 Glad spirits sparkled from Narcissa's eye, 795 
 
 And made youth younger, and taught life to live. 
 As nature's opposites wage endless war, 
 For this offence, as treason to the deep 
 Inviolable stupor of his reign, 
 
 Where lust, and turbulent ambition, sleep, 800 
 
 Death took swift vengeance. As he life detests, 
 More life is still more odious ; and reduced 
 By conquest, aggrandizes more his pow'r. 
 
 
98 THE COMPLAINT. JS^lght V. 
 
 But wherefore aggrandized ? 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 ; 
 
 And where least feared, there conquest triumphs most. 
 
 This proves my bold assertion not too Void. 
 
 What are his arts to lay our fears asleep ? 
 Tiberian arts his purposes wrap up 815 
 
 In deep dissimulation's darkest night. 
 Like princes unconfess'd in foreign courts, 
 Who travel under cover, death assumes 
 The name and look of life, and dwells among us ; 
 He takes all shapes that serve his black designs : 820 
 Though master of a wider empire far 
 Than that o'er which the 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 on Narcissa's couch he loiter'd long 
 Unknown, and when detected, still was seen 835 
 
 To smile ; such peace has innocence in death I 
 
 Most happy they ! whom least his arts deceive. 
 One eye on death, and one full fix'd on liAiv'n, 
 Becomes a mortal and immortal man. 
 Long on his wiles a piqued and Jealous spy, 840 
 
 I've seen, or dream'd I sav/, the' tyrant dress, 
 Layby his horrors, and pxi^ on his smiles 
 
THE RELAPSE. 99 
 
 Say, muse, for thou remember"'st, call it back, 
 
 And show Lorenzo the surprising scene ; 
 
 If 'twas a dream, his genius can explain. 845 
 
 'Twas in a circle of the gay I stood ; 
 Death would have enter'd ; Nature push'd him back ; 
 Supported by a doctor of renown, 
 His point he gainM ; then artfully dismiss'd 
 The sage ; for Death design'd to be conceal'd. 850 
 
 He gave an old vivacious usurer 
 His meagre aspect, and his naked bones ; 
 In gratitude for plumping up his prey. 
 A pamperM spendthrift, whose fantastic air, 
 Well-fashionM figure, and cockaded brow ; 855 
 
 He took in change, and underneath the pride 
 Of costly linen tuckM his filthy shroud. 
 His crooked bow he straighten^ to a cane, 
 And hid his deadly shafts in Myra's eye. 
 
 The dreadful raasquerader, thus equipped, 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 Pteason 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. 
 When Fear is banish'd, and triumphant Thought, 
 Calling for all the joys beneath the moon, 875 
 
 Against him turns the kej', and bids him sup 
 With their progenitors — he drops his mask. 
 Frowns out at full ; they start, despair, expire. 
 Scarce with more sudden terror and surprise 
 From his black m.ask of nitre, touch'd by fire, 880 
 
 He bursts, expands, roars, blazes, and devours. 
 
iOO THE COilPLAlNT. Night V. 
 
 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 fixM, 
 Fix'd as a sentinel, all eye, all ear, 
 All expectation of the coming foe. 890 
 
 Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear, 
 Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul, 
 And Fate surprise thee nodding. Watch, be strong : 
 Thus give each day the merit and renown 
 Of dying well, though doom'd but once to die. 895 
 Nor let life's period (hidden as from most) 
 Hide, too, from thee the precious use of life. 
 
 Early, not sudden, was Narcissa's fate : 
 Soon, not surprising. Death his visit paid : 
 Her thought went forth to meet him on his way, 900 
 Nor Gaiety forgot it was to die. 
 Though Fortune, too, (our third and final theme) 
 As an accomplice, play'd her gaudy plumes, 
 And ev'ry glitt'ring gewgaw, on her sight, 
 To dazzle and debauch it from its mark. 905 
 
 Death's dreadful advent is the mark of man, 
 And every thought that misses it is blind. 
 Fortune with Youth and Gaiety conspired 
 To weave a triple wreatli of happiness 
 (If happiness on earth) to crown her brow. 910 
 
 And could Death charge thro' 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 proofs of Death's ambition, 
 To cull his victims from the fairest fold. 
 And sheathe his shafts in all the pride of life. 
 When flooded with abundunco, piwpled o'er 920 
 
THE RELAPSE. 10 J 
 
 With recent honours, bloomM with ev'ry bliss, 
 
 Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
 
 The g"audy 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 evening's sigh I 
 
 As if her bounties Avere the signal given, 
 
 The flow'ry wreath, to mark the sacrifice, 
 
 And call death's arrows on the destined prey. 930 
 
 High fortune seems in cruel league with fate, 
 Ask yoH for what ? To give his war on maji 
 The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ; 
 Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe. 
 And burns Lorenzo still for the sublime 935 
 
 Of life ? to hang his airy nest on high. 
 On the slight timber of the topmast 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 denied ? 
 Lorenzo ! no, 'tis happiness disdain'd. 
 She comes too meanly dress'd to win our smile, 
 And calls herself Content, a homelj'- name ; 
 Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. 94rj 
 
 Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her. 
 And weds a toil, a tempest, in her stead ; 
 A tempest to warm transport near of kin. 
 Unknowing what our mortal state admits. 
 Life's modest joys we ruin while we raise, 950 
 
 And all our ecstasies are wounds to peace ; 
 Peace, the full portion of mankind below. 
 
 And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! 
 Of fortune fond ! as thoughtless of thy fate I 
 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, 
 9* 
 
lOiJ IHE COMPLAINT. A^gJlt V^ 
 
 And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad 960 
 
 Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. 
 All iTish rapacious ; friends o'er trodden friends, 
 Sons o'er their fathers, subjects o'er their kings, 
 Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair, 
 (Still more adored) to snatch the golden show'r. ^B^-> 
 
 Gold glitters most where virtue shines no more : 
 As stars from absent suns have leave to shine. 
 O what a precious pack of votaries, 
 iJnkennell'd from the prisons and the stews, 
 PoTir in, all op'ning in their idol's praise ! 970 
 
 AH, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand. 
 And, Avide-expanding their voracious jaws, 
 Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, 
 Untasted, through mad appetite for more ; 
 Gorged 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 launch, they fly 
 O'er just, o'er sacred, all-forbidden ground. 
 Drunk ^vith 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 mismeasured, and impetuous speed, 
 Some, darling, strike their a.rdent wish fai- off, 985 
 
 Tiirough fury to possess it : some succeed, 
 JJut stumble and let fall the taken prize. 
 From some, by sudden blasts, 'tis whirl'd av/ay, 
 :\nd lodged in bosoms that ne'er dream'd of gain. 
 To some it sticks so close, that, when torn off, 990 
 Torn is the man, and mortal is the vvound. 
 Some, o'er-enumour'd of their bags, run mad, 
 Groan under gold, yet v/eep for want of bread. 
 Together some (unhappy rivals !) seize. 
 And rend ab\indance into poverty ; 995 
 
 Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles ; 
 Smiles too the goddess ; but smiles most &t there 
 •(Just victims of exorbitant desjre I) 
 
THE RELAPSE. 103 
 
 W'ho perish at their own request, and whehnM 
 Ceneath her load of lavish grants, exjoire. 1000 
 
 Fortune is famous for her numbers slain : 
 The number small which happiness can bear. 
 Though various for a ■while their fates, at last 
 One curse involves them all ; at death's approach 
 All read their riches backward into loss, 1005 
 
 And mourn in just proportion to their store. 
 
 And death's approach (if orthodox my song) 
 Is hasten'd by the lure of fortime'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, 1015 
 The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence, 
 By the strong strokes of lab'ring hind subdued. 
 Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
 In cumbrous ruin thunders to the ground ; 
 The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 1020 
 
 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound. 
 
 These high-aim'd darts of death, and these alone, 
 Should I collect, my quiver would be full ; 
 A quiver which, suspended in mid air, 
 Or near heav'n's archer, in the zodiac, hung, 1025 
 
 (So could it be) should draw the public eye. 
 The gaze and contemplation of mankind ! 
 A constellation awful, yet benign. 
 To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave. 
 Nor suffer them to strike the common rock ; 1030 
 
 '' From greater danger to grow more secure, 
 And, 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 : 1035 
 
 Tn youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bless'd ; 
 All who knew envied, yet in envy loved. 
 
104 'tHE COMPLAINT. J\lght V- 
 
 Can fancy form more finished happiness ? 
 
 Fix'd was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome 1030 
 
 Rose on the sounding beach. The glitt'ring spires 
 
 Float in the wave, and break against the shore : 
 
 So break those glitt'ring shadows, human joys. 
 
 The faithless morning smiled : he takes his leave, 
 
 To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve. 
 
 The rising storm forbids. The news arrives ; 1045 
 
 Untold she saw it in her servant's eye. 
 
 She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel ;) 
 
 And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, 
 
 In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb. 
 
 Now round the sumptuous bridal monument 105& 
 
 The guilty billows innocently roar, 
 
 And the rough sailor, passing, drops a tear. 
 
 A tear ! can tears suffice ? — but not for me. 
 
 How vain our efforts ! and our arts how vain ! 
 
 The distant train of thought I took, to shun, 1055 
 
 Has thrown me on my fate.— These died together ; 
 
 Happy in ruin I undivorced by death ! 
 
 Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace, — 
 
 Narcissa, Pity bleeds at thought of thee ; 
 
 Yet thou wast only near me, not myself. 1060 
 
 Survive myself? — that cures all other wo. 
 
 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, 
 
 "Tis the survivor dies. — My heart I no more. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LNFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 000 
 
 FEW ages have been deeper in dispute about reli- 
 gion than this. The dispute about rehgion, and the 
 practice of it, seldom go together. The shorter there- 
 fore the dispute, the better. I think it may be reduc- 
 ed to this single question. Is man imviorfal^ or Is he 
 not ? If he is not, all our disputes are mere amuse- 
 ments, or trials of skill. In this case, truth, reason, 
 religion, which give our discourses such pomp and so- 
 lemnity, are (as Avill be shown) mere empty sounds, 
 without any meaning in them. But if man is immor- 
 tal, it will behoove him to be very serious about eter- 
 nal consequences ; or, in other words, to be truly re- 
 ligious. And this great fundamental truth, unestab- 
 lished, or unawakened in the minds of men, is, I con- 
 ceive, the real source and support of all our infidelity ; 
 how remote soever the particulai* objections advanced 
 may seem to be from it. 
 
 Sensible appearances affeot most men much more 
 than abstract reasonings ; and we daily see bodies 
 drop around us, but the soul is invisible. The power 
 which inclination has over the judgment, is greater 
 than can be well conceived by those who have not had 
 an experience of it ; and of what numbers is it the sad 
 interest, that souls should not survive ! The Heathen 
 world confessed, that they rather hoped than firmly 
 believed immortality ! and hoM'^ many Heathens have 
 we still amongst us ! The sacred page assures us, that 
 life and immortality are brought to light by the Gos- 
 pel : but by how many is the Gospel rejected or over- 
 
106 PREFACE. 
 
 looked ! From these considerations, and from my be- 
 ing, accidentally, privy to the sentiments of some par- 
 ticular persons, I have been long persuaded, that most, 
 if not all, our infidels, (whatever name they take, and 
 whatever scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep 
 themselves in countenance, they patronize) are sup- 
 ported in their deplorable 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 earnest- 
 ly, and impartially, inquire after the surest means of 
 escaping the one and securing the other. And of such 
 an earnest and impartial inquiry, I well know the con- 
 sequence. 
 
 Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental 
 truth, some plain arguments are oflTered ; arguments 
 derived from principles which infidels admit in com- 
 mon with believers ; arguments which appear to me 
 altogether irresistible ; and such as, I am satisfied, will 
 have great Avcight with all who give themselves the 
 small trouble of looking seriously into their own bos- 
 oms, and of observing, with any tolerable degree of 
 attention, what daily passes round about them in the 
 world. »— If sora^e arguments shall here occur which oth- 
 ers have declined, they are submitted, with all defer- 
 ence, to better judgments in this, of all points the 
 most important. ' For, as to the being of a GOD, that 
 is no longer disputed ; but it is undisputed for thia 
 reason only, viz. because, where the least pretence to 
 reason is admitted, it must for ever be indisputable. 
 And, of consequence, no man can be betrayed into a 
 dispute of that nature by vanity, which has a princi- 
 pal share in animating our modern combatants against 
 other articles of our belief. 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VI. 
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 
 
 Containing the Nature, Proof, and Importance of Im- 
 mortality. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Where, among- other Things, Glory and Riches are 
 particularly considered. 
 
 Inscribed to the Rt. Hon, Henry Pelham, 
 
 SHE* (for I know not yet her name in heav'n) 
 Not early, hke Narcissa, left the scene, 
 Nor sudden, like Philander. What avail ? 
 This seeming mitigation but inflames : 
 This fancied med''cine heiehlens the disease. 5 
 
 The longer known, the closer still she grew ;_ 
 And gradual parting is a gradual death. 
 'Tis the grim tyranfs en2:ine which e> torts, 
 By tardy pressure^'s still-increasing weight, 
 From hardest })earts confession of OK^tress. 10 
 
 O the long dark approach, through years of pain, 
 Death''s gal^ry ! (might I dare to call it so) 
 
 * Referring to Mght the Fifth. 
 
108 9^ IHE COMPLAIKT. Night VI. 
 
 With dismal doubt and sable terror hung, 
 
 Sick Hope's pale lamp its only glimmVing ray : 
 
 There, Fate my melancholy walk ordain'd, 15 
 
 Forbid Self-love itself to flatter, there. 
 
 How oft I gazed prophetically sad ! 
 
 How oft I saw her dead, while yet in smiles ! 
 
 In smiles she sunk her grief to lessen mine : 
 
 She spoke me comfort, and increased my pain. 20 
 
 Like powerful armies, trenching at a town, 
 
 By slow and silent, but resistless sap, 
 
 In his pale progress gently gaining ground. 
 
 Death urged his deadly siege ; in spite of art,. 
 
 Of all the balmy blessings Nature lends 2» 
 
 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. 
 
 Tied down my sore attention to the shock \ 
 
 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 at eternity below, \ 
 
 When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; 
 
 When, on a moment's point th' important die 
 
 Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fell, 
 
 And turn'd up life, my title to more wo. 
 
 But why more wo ? More comfort let it be, ^ 
 
 Nothing is dead but that which wish'd to die ; 
 Nothing is dead but wretchedness and pain ; 
 (Nothing is dead but what encumber'd, gall'd, 
 iBlockM up the pass, and barr'd from real life. 
 Where d%vells that wish most ardent of the wise ? ^ 
 Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars 
 Too low to reach it ; Death, great Death alone, 
 O'er stars and sun triumpliant, lands us there. 
 
 Nor dreadful our transition, though the mind. 
 An artist at creating self-alarms, i 
 
 Rich in exi>edicnt5 for inquietude^ 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 109 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades ; 
 
 And these the formidable picture draw. 60 
 
 But grant the worst. His past ; new prospects rise. 
 And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. 
 Far other views our contemplation claim. 
 Views that overpay the rigours of our life ; 
 Views that suspend our agonies in death. 65 
 
 Wrapt in the thought of immortality. 
 Wrapt in the single, the tritimphant thought I 
 Long life might lapse, age unperceived come on, 
 And find the soul unsated with her theme. 
 Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song. 70 
 
 O that my song could emulate my soul I 
 Like her, immortal. No ! — the soul disdains 
 A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames ; 
 If endless ages can outweigh an hour, 
 Let not the laurel, but tlie palm, inspire. 75 
 
 Thy nature. Immortality I 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 die, hovv- black, how brittle here I 80 
 
 How short our correspondence with the sun ! 
 And while it lasts inglorious I Our best deeds, 
 How v/anting in their Moight I Our highest joys, 
 Small cordials to support us in our pain, 
 And give us strength to sutler. But how gi'eat S'.'j 
 
 To mingle interests, converse, amities, 
 With all the sons of reason, scatterd v/ide 
 Through habitable space, wherever born. 
 Howe'er endow'd I To live fiee citi/'^n' 
 Of tmiversal nature : (^^ lav hold. PO 
 
 1'.' 
 
110 THE COMPLAINT. Night VL 
 
 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. 
 
 Which lifts us on the seraph's flaming wiag, 
 
 From earth's Aceldama, this field of blood. 
 
 Of inward anguish, and of outward ill, 
 
 From darkness and from dust, to such a scene ! 105 
 
 Love's element ! true joy's illustrious home ! 
 
 From earth's sad contrast (now deplored) more fair ! 
 
 What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! 
 
 Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! 
 
 Lorenzo, these are thoughts that make man man, 1 10 
 The wise illumine, aggrandize the great. 
 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 ; involved in high presage 
 Through the long vista of a thousand years, 
 To stand contemplating our distant selves, 
 As in a magnifying mirror seen. 
 
 Enlarged, ennobled, elevate, divine ! 120 
 
 To prophesy our own futurities ! 
 To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends ! 
 To talk, with fellow candidates, of joys 
 As far beyond conception as desert, 
 Ourselves th' astonish'd talkers and the tale I 125 
 
 Lorenzo, swells thy bosom at the thought ? 
 The swell becomes thee : 'tis an honest pride. 
 Revere thj'self, — and yet thyself despise. 
 flis nature no man can o'er-rate, and none 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Ill 
 
 Can Tiuder-rate his merit. Take good heed, 130 
 
 Nor there be modest where thou should' st be proud : 
 
 That almost universal error shun. 
 
 How just our pride, when we behold those heights ! 
 
 Not those ambition paints in air, but those 
 
 Reason points out, and ardent virtue gains, 135 
 
 And angels emulate. Our pride how just I 
 
 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 ordained to breathe 
 
 Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky : 
 
 Greatly ti'iumphant 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 dignit}^, with half the gain, 
 The gust, the glow of rational delight, 150 
 
 As on this theme, which angels praise and share ! 
 Man's fate and favours are a theme in heav'n. 
 
 What wretched repetition cloys us here ! 
 What periodic potions for the sick ! 
 Distemper' d bodies ! and distemper'd minds ! 155 
 
 In an eternity what scenes shall strike ! 
 Adventures thicken I novelties surprise ! 
 What webs of wonder shall imravel there ! 
 What full day pour on all the paths of heav'n, 
 And light th' Almighty's footsteps in the deep I 160 
 How shall the blessed day of our discharge 
 Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of Fate, 
 And straighten its inextricable maze ! 
 
 If inextinguishable thirst in man 
 To know ; how rich, how full, our banquet there ! 165 
 There, not the moral world alone unfolds ; 
 The world material, lately seen in shades. 
 And in those shades by fragments only seen, 
 
112 THE COMPLAINT. Night VL 
 
 And seen those fragments bj the laboring eye, 
 
 Unbroken, then, illustrious and entire, 170 
 
 Its ample sphere, its universal frame, 
 
 In full dimensions, swells to the survey ; 
 
 And enters, at one glance, the ravish'd sit^ht. 
 
 From some superior point (where, who can tell ? 
 
 Suffice it, His a point where gods reside) 175 
 
 How shall the stranger man's illumined eye. 
 
 In the vast ocean of unbounded space, 
 
 Behold an infinite of floating worlds 
 
 Divide the crystal waves of ether pure, 
 
 In endless voyage, without port I The least 180 
 
 Of these disseminated orbs how great ! 
 
 Great as they are, what numbers these surpass, 
 
 Huge as leviathan to that small race. 
 
 Those twinkling multitudes of little life, 
 
 He swallows unperceived ! Stupendous these ! 185 
 
 Yet what are these stupendous to the whole? 
 
 As particles, as atoms ill perceived : 
 
 As circulating globules in our veins ; 
 
 So vast the plan. Fecundity divine I 
 
 Exub'rant source I perhaps I Avrong thee still. 190 
 
 If admiration is a source of joy, 
 What transport hence I yet this the least in heav'ft. 
 What this to that illustrious robe He wears, 
 Who toss'd this mast 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 
 Which gave it birth. But what, this Sun of heav'n T 
 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 chased 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. 
 
THE LVFIDEL RECLAIMED. 1 1 ..' 
 
 Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all, 
 
 Our more than vitals spin (if no regard 
 
 To great futurity) in curious webs 2iO 
 
 Of subtle thought and exquisite design, 
 
 (Fine network of the brain I) to catch a % ! 
 
 'rhe momentary buzz of vain renown I 
 
 A name ! a mortal iramortalit}^ ! 
 
 Or (meaner still) instead of grasping air, 21^' 
 
 For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ? 
 
 Drudge, sweat, through ev'ry shame, for evVy gain. 
 
 For vile contaminating trash ; throw up 
 
 Our hope in heav''n, our dignity with man. 
 
 And deify the dirt matured to gold ? 220 
 
 Ambition, Av'rice, the two demons these 
 
 Which goad through ev'ry slougli our human herd. 
 
 Hard travellM from the cradle to the grave. 
 
 How low :the wretches stoop I how steep they climb ! 
 
 These demons 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 motii, the sun ? 
 Glory and wealth ! have they this blinding pow'r ? 230 
 'vVhat if to them I prove Lorenzo blind ? 
 AVould it surprise thee ? Be thou then surprised ; 
 Thou neither know''st: their nature learn from me. 
 
 Mark well, as foreign as tliese 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. 
 ^Vere they as vain as gaudy-minded man. 
 As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, 
 Their arts and conquests animals might boast, 240 
 
 And claim their laurel crowns as well as we. 
 But not celestial. Here we stand alone ; 
 As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent. 
 If prone in thought, our stature is our shame ; 
 And man should blush, his forehead meets the skies. 
 The visible and present are for brutes, 246 
 
 10* 
 
114 THE COMPLAINT. Night VL 
 
 A slender portion ! and a narrow bound ! 
 
 These, Reason, with an ener2:y divine, 
 
 O'erleaps, and claims the future and unseen : 
 
 The vast unseen ! the future fathomless ! 250 
 
 When the _:^reat soul buo^s 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, 
 
 Asferts his rank, and rises into man. 255 
 
 This is ambition ; this is huiiian lire. 
 
 Can parts, or place, (two bold pretenders !) make 
 Lorenzo great, and pluck him from tlie throng ? 
 
 Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings. 
 Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid I 260 
 
 Dedalian engin'rj I If these alone 
 Assist our <light, 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 brigiit, 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 achievement of great powers : 
 Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
 Reason the means, affections choose our end ; 
 Means have no merit, if our end amiss. 280 
 
 If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain : 
 What is a Pelham's head to Pelham's heart ? 
 Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 
 Right ends and means make wisdom : worldly wise 
 Is but half-witted, at its highest prsiise. 285 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. I U'> 
 
 Let genius then despair to make thee great ; 
 Nor flatter station. What is station high ? 
 ■'TIS a proud mendicant ; it boasts and bec;s ; 
 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. 
 E-cligion, public order, both exact 
 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 unborrowed, and unbought, 
 His own, descending fairly from his sires. SO"* 
 
 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. •'>10 
 
 Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: 
 Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids ; 
 Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall. 
 
 Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? 
 The cause is lodged in immortality. 31 r> 
 
 Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power ; 
 What station charms thee ? I'll install thee there ; 
 'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ? 
 Then thou before wast something less than man. 
 Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 320 
 
 That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
 That pride defames humanity, and calls 
 The being mean, which staffs or strings can raise. 
 That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars. 
 
116 "IHE COMPLAINT. Night VI 
 
 From blindness bold, and tow''ring ib the skies. 325 
 
 'Tis born of ignorance, Avhich knows not man : 
 
 An angel's second ; nor his second long. 
 
 A Nero quitting his imperial throne, 
 
 And courting glory from the tinkling string, 
 
 But faintl}?^ shadows an immortal soul, 330 
 
 With empire's self, to pride, or rapture fired. 
 
 If nobler motives minister no cure, 
 
 E'en vanity forbids thee to be vain. 
 
 High worth is elevated place ; 'tis more ; 
 it makes the post stand candidate for thee : 335 
 
 ?v1akes more than monarch s, makes an honest man ; 
 'I hough no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth; 
 And though it wears no riband, 'tis renoAvn; 
 Renown, that Avould not quit thee, tho' disgraced, 
 Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 340 
 
 Other ambition nature interdicts ; 
 Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
 By pointing at his origin, and end : 
 Milk, and a swathe, at first his whole demand ; 
 His whole domain, at last, a turf or stone ; 345 
 
 To whom, between, a Avorld may seem too small. 
 
 Souls, truly great, dart forward on the wing 
 Of just ambition, to the grand result. 
 The curtain's fall. There, see the buskin'd chief 
 Unshod behind this momentary scene ; 350 
 
 Reduced to his own stature, low or higi), 
 A 3 vice, or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes ; 
 \nd laugh at this fantastic mummery, 
 This antic prelude of grotesque events, 
 Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray 35ri 
 
 A httleness of soul by worlds o'er-run. 
 And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice 
 To Ciiristian pride! W^hich 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 [)rince, and that alone, is truly great, 
 Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheatheF ; 
 
THE INFIDEL DECLAIMED. 117 
 
 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 ; 370 
 
 Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room. 
 And give it audience in the cabinet. 
 That friend consulted (Jlatteries apart) 
 Will tell thee fair, if thou art great or mean. 
 
 To doat on aught may leave us, or be left, 275 
 
 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 neAv wisdom : e'en the grave man lends 
 His solemn face to countenance the coin. 
 Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole. 
 This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave 385 
 
 To call the wisest weak, the richest poor, 
 The most ambitious, unambitious, mean ; 
 In triumph mean, and abject on a throne. 
 Nothing can make it less than mad in man, 
 To put forth all his ardour, all his art, 390 
 
 And give his soul her full unbounded flight. 
 But reaching Plim, who gave her wings to fly. 
 When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 
 And downward pours for that which shines above, 
 Substantial happiness, and ti-ue renown ; 395 
 
 Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook, 
 We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 
 At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 
 
 Ambition ! powVful soiu-ce of good and ill ! 
 Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 400 
 W^hen disengaged from earth with greater ease 
 And swifter flight transports us to the skies ; 
 
118 THE COMPLAINT. Night VI . 
 
 By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired, 
 
 Jt turns a curse ; it is our chain and scourge 
 
 In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 405 
 
 Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
 
 All prospect of eternity shut out; 
 
 And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 
 
 With error in ambition justly charged, 
 Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth? 410 
 
 What if thy rental I reform, and draw 
 An inventory new to set thee right ? 
 Where thy true treasure ? Gold says, ' Not in me :' 
 And ^ Not in me,' the diamond. Gold is poor ; 
 India's insolvent : seek it in thyself, 415 
 
 Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; 
 In being so descended, form'd, endow'd ; 
 Sky-bora, sky-guided, sky-returning race ! 
 Erect, immortal, rational, divine ! 
 
 In senses, which inherit earth and heav'ns ; 420 
 
 Enjoy the various riches nature yields ; 
 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 pow'rful 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 jiicture 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 ! Rot rare ! so great, so mean, is man. 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 119 
 
 What wealth in senses such as these ! What wealth 
 In fancy, fired to form a fairer scene 
 Than sense surveys ! In memory's firm record, 
 W^hich, should it perish, could this v/orld recall 445 
 From the dark shadows of overwhelming years ! 
 In colours fresh, originally bright, 
 Preserve its portrait, and report its fate I 
 What wealth in intellect, that sovereign 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 refined. 
 And in truth's balance accurately weigh'd. 
 Forms art and science, government and law ; 455 
 
 The solid basis, and the beauteous frame. 
 The vitals and the grace of civil life ! 
 And manners (sad exception I) 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 ! 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' Almighty made, 470 
 And wander wild through things impossible ! 
 What wealth, in faculties of endless growth. 
 In quenchless passions violent to crave. 
 In liberty to choose, in 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 bhss to gain ? Is virtue's, then, unknown ? 
 Virtue, our present peace, our future prize. 
 Man's unprecarious natural estate. 480 
 
120 THE COMPLAINT. JVight VI . 
 
 Improveable at will, in virtue lies ; 
 Its tenure sure ; its income is divine. 
 
 High-built abundance, heap on heap ! for vphat ? 
 To breed new wants and beggar us the more ; 
 Then, make a richer scramble for the throng. 485 
 
 Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long- 
 Almost by miracle, is tired with play, 
 Like rubbish from disploding engines throv/n, 
 Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly ; 
 Fly diverse ; &y to foreigners, to foes ; 490 
 
 New masters court, and call the former fools, 
 (How justly !) for dependence on their stay. 
 Wide scatter, first, our playthings ; then, our dust. 
 
 Dost court abundance for the sake of peace ? 
 Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : 49y 
 
 Riches enable to be richer si ill ; 
 A.nd, richer slill, whiit mortal can resist? 
 Thu< wealth (a cruel task-master !) enjoins 
 New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train I 
 And murders peace, which taught it first to shine. 500 
 Tiie poor are half as wretched as the rich, 
 Whose proud and painful privilege it is, 
 At once, to bear a doable load of wo ; 
 To feel the stings of envy and of want, 
 Outrageous want ! both Indies cannot cure. 50;> 
 
 A competence is vital to content. 
 Much wealth is corpulence, if not diseaee ; 
 Sick, or encumber'd, is our happiness. 
 A competence is all we can enjoy. 
 O be content, where heav'n can give no more i 510 
 More, like a flash of water from a lock, 
 Quickens our spirit's movement for an hour ; 
 But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys 
 Above our native temper's common stream. 
 Hence disappointment lurks in ev'ry prize, oli 
 
 As bees in flow'ry, and stings us with success. 
 
 The rich man who denies it proudly feigns, 
 ?sor knows the wise are privy to the lie. 
 Much learniu';* shows how little mortals know 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 121 
 
 Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy : 520 
 
 At best, it babies us with endless toys, 
 
 And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
 
 As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed. 
 
 They fail to find what they so plainly see ; 
 
 Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 525 
 
 Of happiness, nor know it is a shade, 
 
 But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, 
 
 And wish, and wonder it is absent still. 
 
 How few can rescue opulence from want ! 
 "Who lives to nature rarely can be poor ; 530 
 
 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 possessM can raise it ; worlds destroyed 
 CanH injure ; which holds on its glorious course, 
 When thine, O Nature 1 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 I 
 Morn without eve ! a race without a goal I 
 Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! 
 Futurity for ever future ! Life 545 
 
 Beginning still, where computation ends ! 
 'Tis the description of a deity ! 
 'Tis the description of the meanest slave ! 
 The meanest slave dares then Lorenzo scorn '■'. 
 The meanest slave thy sov''reign glory shares. 550 
 
 Proud youth ! fastidious of the lower world ! 
 Man's lawful pride includes humility ; 
 Stoops to the lowest ; is too great to find 
 Inferiors ; all immortal ! brothers all I 
 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 overwhelms ; 
 11 
 
122 THE COMPLAINT. Night VI. 
 
 No more we slumber on the brink of fate ; 
 
 Roused 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 v^ithin us, 
 
 Nor leaves one loit'ring thought beneath the stars. 
 
 Has not Lorenzo's bosom caught the flame ? 665 
 
 Immortal ! Were but one immortal, how 
 Would others envy ! how would thrones adore I 
 Because 'tis common, is the blessing lost ? 
 How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heav'n ! 
 O vain, vain, vain, all else ! Eternity ! 670 
 
 A glorious, and a needful refuge, that, 
 From vile imprisonment in abject views. 
 'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, 
 Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness. 
 The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. 67; 
 
 That only, and that amply, this performs ; 
 Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above ; 
 Their terror those, and these their lustre lose ; 
 Eternity depending, covers all ; 
 
 Eternity depending, all achieves ; 580 
 
 Sets earth at distance ; casts her into shades ; 
 Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her 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 ; if I may call him man, 
 Whom immortality's full force inspires. 
 Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought: 
 Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard, 
 By minds quite conscious of their high descent, 590 
 Their present province and their future prize ; 
 Divinely darting upward 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 distanced eye 595 
 Were seen at once, her tow'ring Alps would sink, 
 And levell'd Atlas leave an even sphere. 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 123 
 
 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, 
 Unraptured, unexalted, uninflamed ? 
 What slave unblest, •vvho from to-morrow's dawn 610 
 Expects an empire ? he forgets his chain, 
 And, throned "in thought, his absent sceptre waves. 
 
 And what a sceptre waits us I what a throne ! 
 Her own immense appointments to compute, 
 Or comprehend her high prerogatives, 615 
 
 In this her dark minority, how toils, 
 How vainly pants tlie human soul divine ! 
 Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy. 
 What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss ? 
 
 In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 620 
 
 Ne'er to be prized enough ! enough revolved ! 
 Are there who wrap the world so close about them. 
 They see no further 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) 
 W^ho lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 
 Unconscious as the mountain of its ore, 63G 
 
 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 tliought ? who smother, in its birth, 635 
 
 The glorious truth ? who struggle to be brutes ? 
 
124 THE COMFLAIiNT. NlgJU VL 
 
 "VVho through this bosom-barrier burst their way, 
 
 And, Avith reversed 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's I 
 
 Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 
 
 With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 
 
 Work all their engines, level their black fires, 645 
 
 To blot from man this attribute divine, 
 
 (Than vital blood far dearer to the wise) 
 
 Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? 
 
 To contradict them, see all natxire 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. Indidge a fev/, 
 By nature, as her common habit, worn ; 
 So pressing Providence a truth to teach, 
 Which truth untaught, all other truths were vain. 
 
 THOU I w^hose all providential eye surveys, 660 
 
 Whose hand directs, whose Spirit fills and warms 
 Creation, and holds empire far beyond I 
 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 v/eight, 
 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. 
 T.orcnzo, to this heav'nly Delphos haste ; 675 
 
THE lA FIDEL RECLAIJMLD- l^CJ 
 
 And come back all-immortal, all-divine ; 
 
 Look nature through, 'tis revolution all ; 
 
 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 ti'.rbulent 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, 6G6 
 
 Recalls the first. All, to flourish, fades ; 
 
 As in a Avheel, all sinks, to re-ascend. 
 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 
 
 With this minute distinction, emblems just, 690 
 
 Nature revolves, but man advances ; both 
 Eternal ; that a circle, this a line ; 
 That gravitates, this soars. Th' aspiring soul, 
 Ardent' and tremulous, like flame, ascends ; 
 Zeal, and humility, her wiags 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. 700 
 
 What hence infers Lorenzo ? Can it -be ? 
 Matter immortal ? And shall spirit die ? 
 Above the nobler, shall less noble rise ? 
 Shall man alone, for whom all else revive=, 
 No resurrection know ? Shall man alone, 705 
 
 Imperial man I be sown in barren ground. 
 Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds ? 
 Is man, in whom alone is pow'r to pnze 
 The bliss of being, or M'ilh previous pain 
 Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate, 710 
 
 Severely doomed df ath-s single unredeem'd ? 
 
 If nature's revolution speaks aloud. 
 In her gradation, hear her louder still. 
 Look nature through, 'lis neat gradation all. 
 
i26 THE COMPLAINl. JYight VL 
 
 By what minute degreesj her scale ascends ! 715 
 
 Each middle nature join'd at each extreme, 
 
 To that above it joinM, to that beneath. 
 
 Parts, into parts reciprocally shot, 
 
 Abhor divorce : What love of union reigns I 
 
 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 preserved 
 
 The chain unbroken upward, to the realms 
 
 Ol' incorporeal life i those realms of bliss 7i2ci 
 
 Where death has no dominion ? Grant a make 
 
 Half-mortal, half-irhmortal ; 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 pronounced so true : 
 
 Analogy, man^s surest guide below. 
 
 Thus far, all nature calls on thy belief. 73i> 
 
 And M'ill 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 beloved, and run the risk of heav'n ? 740 
 
 O what indignity to deathless souls I 
 What treason to the majesty of man I 
 Of man immortal ! Hear the lofty style : 
 ' If so decreed, th' Almighty Mill be done. 
 Let earth dissolve, yon ponderous orbs descend, 745 
 And grind us into dust. The soul is safe ; 
 The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck. 
 As tow'ring flame from nature's fun'ral pyre : 
 O'er devastation as a gainer smiles ; 
 His charter, his inviolable rights, 750 
 
 Well pleased to learn from thunder's impotence, 
 Death's pointless darts, and hell's defeated storms.' 
 
 But these chimeras touch not thee, Lorenzo ! 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. IS? 
 
 Tiie glories cf the world thj'- sev'nfold shield. 
 
 Other ambition than of crowns in air, 755 
 
 And superlunar}' felicities, 
 
 Thy bosom warm. I'll cool it, if I can ; 
 
 And turn those glories that enchant, against thee. 
 
 What ties thee to this life, proclaims the next. 
 
 It wise, the cause that wounds thee is thy cure. 760 
 
 Come, my ambitious ! let us mount together, 
 (To mount Lorenzo never can refuse ;) 
 And from the clouds, where pride delights to dwell, 
 Look down on earth. — What seest thou ? Wondrous 
 
 things ! 
 Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the f^kies. "/GS 
 
 What lengths of laboured lands I what loaded seas ! 
 Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
 Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought, 
 His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
 Nor can th' eternal rocks his will withstand. 770 
 
 What levell'd mountains ! and wJiat lifted vales ! 
 O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell, 
 And gild our landscape with their glittering spiret. 
 Some 'mid the wond'ring waves majestic rise ; 
 And Neptune holds a mirror to their charnis, 775 
 
 Far greater still ! (what cannot mortal might ?) 
 See wide dominions ravish'd from the deep I 
 The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 
 Or southward turn ; to delicate and grand, 
 The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 7^0 
 
 How the tall temples, as to meet their god?, 
 Ascend the skies I the proud triumphal arch 
 Shows us half heaven beneath its ample bend. 
 High through mid air, here streams are taught to lio^v ; 
 Whole rivers, there, laid by in basons, sleep. 705 
 
 Here, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join 
 Thro' kingdoms channell'd deep from shore to shore ; 
 And changed creation takes its face from man. 
 Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes. 
 Where fame and empire wait upon the sword .'' 790 
 
 See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise ; 
 
128 THE COMPLAINT. JVigkt VI. 
 
 Britannia's voice ! that awes the world to peace. 
 
 How yon enormous mole projecting breaks 
 
 The mid-sea furious M-aves \ their roar amidst, 
 
 Out-speaks the Deity, and says, ' O main I 795 
 
 Thus far, nor farther : new restraints obey.' 
 
 Earth's disembowelPd ! measured are the skies! 
 
 Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 
 
 Creation widens ! vanquished nature yields ! 
 
 Her secrets are extorted ! Art prevails ! 800 
 
 What monument of genius, spirit, pow'r ! 
 
 And noAv, Lorenzo, raptured at this scene, 
 Whose glories render heav'n superfluous ! say. 
 Whose foottteps these ? — Immortals have been here. 
 Could less than souls immortal this have done ? 805 
 Earth's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal ; 
 And proofs of immortality forgot. 
 
 To flatter thy grand foible, I confess. 
 These are ambition's works ; and these are great : 
 But this the lea;?t immortal souls can do : 810 
 
 Transcend them all. — But what can these transcend ? 
 Dost ask me, what ? — One sigh for the distrest. 
 What then for infidels ? — A deeper sigh I 
 'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man : 
 How little they, who tliink aught great below ! 815 
 All our ambitions death defeats but one ; 
 And that it crowns. — Here cease Ave r but, ere long, 
 More powerful proof shall take the field against thee, 
 Stronger than death, and smiling at the tomb. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 PART II. 
 
 OF THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 -000- 
 
 AS we are at war with the power, it were well if we 
 'vvere at war with the manners, of France. A land of 
 levity is a land of guilt. A serious mind is the native 
 soil of every virtue, and the single character that does 
 true honour to mankind. The soul's immortality has 
 been the favourite tlieme with the serious of all ages. 
 Nor is it strange : it is a subject by far the most inter- 
 esting and important that can enter the mind of man. 
 Of highest moment this subject always was, and always 
 will be. Yet this its highest moment seems to admit of 
 increase, at this day : a sort of occasional importance 
 is superadded to the natural weight of it, if that opin- 
 ion which is advanced in the Preface to the preceding- 
 Night be just. It is there supposed that all our infidels, 
 whatever scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep 
 themselves in countenance, they patronise, are betray- 
 ed into their deplorable error, by some doubts of their 
 immortality at tlie bottom. And the more I consider 
 this point, , the more I am persuaded of the truth of 
 that opinion. Though the distrust of a futurity is a 
 strange error ; yet it is an error into which bad men 
 may naturally be distressed. For it is impossible to bid 
 defiance to final ruin, without some refuge in imagina- 
 tion, some presumption of escape. And what presump- 
 tion is there ? There are but two in nature ; but two, 
 
1 30 PREFACE. 
 
 within the compass of human thought : and these are, — - 
 That either God will not, or cannot punish. Consid- 
 ering the divine attributes, the first is too gross to be 
 digested by our strongest wishes. And, since omnipo- 
 tence is as much a divine attribute as holiness, that 
 God cannot punish, is as absurd a supposition as the 
 former. God certainly can punish, as long as wicked 
 men exist. In non-existence, therefore, is their only 
 refuge ; and, consequently, non-existence is their strong- 
 est wish. And strong wishes have a strange influence 
 on our opinions ; they bias the judgment in a manner 
 almost incredible. And since on this member of their 
 alternative, there are some very small appearances in 
 their favour, and none at all on the other, they catch 
 at this reed, they lay hold on this chimera, to save 
 themselves from the shock and horror of an immediate 
 and absolute despair. 
 
 On reviewing my subject, by the light which this ar- 
 gument, and others of like tendency, threw upon it, I 
 was more inclined than ever to pursue it, as it appeared 
 to me to strike directly at the main root of all our infi- 
 delity. In the following pages it is accordingly pursu- 
 ed at large ; and some arguments for immortality, new, 
 at least to me, are ventured on in them. There, also, 
 the writer has made an attempt to set the gross ab- 
 surdities and horrors of annihilation in a fuller and more 
 affecting view, than is, I think, to be met with else- 
 where. 
 
 The gentlemen for whose sake this attempt was 
 chiefly made, profess great admiration for the wisdom 
 of heathen antiquity : what pity 'tis they are not sin- 
 cere ! If they were sincere, hoM^ would it mortify them 
 to consider with what contempt and abliorrence their 
 notions would have been received, by those whom they 
 .so much admire ? What degree of contempt and abhor- 
 rence would fall to thpir share, may be conjectured by 
 the following matter of fact, in my opinion extremely 
 memorable. Of all their heathen worthies, Socrates, 
 'tis well known, was the most guarded, dispassionate, 
 
PREFACE. 131 
 
 and composed : yet this great master of temper was 
 angry ; and angry at his last hour ; and angry with his 
 friend ; and angry for what deserved acknowledgment ; 
 angry for a right and tender instance of true friendship 
 towards him. Is not this surprising ? What could be 
 the cause ? The cause was for his honour ; it was a tru- 
 ly noble, though, perhaps, a too punctilious regard for 
 immortality : for his friend asking him, with such an 
 affectionate concern as became a friend, ' Where he 
 should deposit his remains ?' it was resented by Socra- 
 tes, as implying a dishonourable supposition, that he 
 could be so mean as to have regard for any thing, even 
 in himself, that was not immortal. 
 
 This fact, well considered, would make our infidels 
 withdraw their admiration from Socrates ; or make 
 them endeavour, by their imitation of this illustrious 
 example, to share his glory ; and, consequently, it 
 would incline them to peruse the foUov/ing pages with 
 candour and impartiality ; which is all I desire, and 
 that for their sakes •. for I am persuaded, that an un- 
 prejudiced infidel must, necessarily, receive f'omf' ad- 
 vantageous impressions from them, 
 
 Jii-Itj 7. 174^ 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VII. 
 
 000 
 
 BEING 
 
 THE SECOND PART 
 
 OF 
 
 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
 
 Containing the Nature, Proof, and Importance of 
 Immortality. 
 
 HEAV'N gives the needful, but neglected, call. 
 What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts 
 To wake the soul to sense of future scenes ? 
 Deaths stand, like Mercuries, in ev'ry way, 
 And kindly point us to our journey's end. 5 
 
 Pope, who couldst make immortals, art thou dead ? 
 I give thee joy : nor will I take my leave ; 
 So soon to follow. Man but dives in death ; 
 Dives from the sun, in fairer day to rise ; 
 The grave, his subterranean road to bliss. 10 
 
 Yes, infinite indulgence plannM it so : 
 Through various parts our glorious story runs ; 
 Time gives the preface, endless age unrols 
 The volume (ne'er enroll'd !) of human fate. 
 
 This, earth and skies* already have proclaim'd, ^h 
 The world's a prophecy of worlds to come : 
 
 ^- Mght the Sixth. 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 133 
 
 And wlio, what God foretells (who speaks in things 
 
 Still louder than in words) shall dare deny ? 
 
 If nature ■'s arguments appear too weak, 
 
 Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 20 
 
 If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees, 
 
 Can he prove infidel to what he feels ? 
 
 He, whose blind thought futurity denies, 
 
 Unconscious bears, Bellerophon ! like thee. 
 
 His own indictments ; he condemns himself: 25 
 
 Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
 
 Or, Nature, there, imposing on her sons, 
 
 Has written fables ; man was made a lie. 
 
 Wh^^ discontent for ever harbour' d there ? 
 Incurable consumption of our peace ! 30 
 
 Resolve me, why the cottager and king, 
 He whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 
 Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, 
 Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw, 
 Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, 36 
 
 In fate so distant, in complaint so near ? 
 
 Is it, that things terrestrial can't content ? 
 Deep in rich pasture, will thy flocks complain ? 
 Not so ; but to their master is denied 
 To share their sweet serene. Man, ill at ease, 40 
 
 In this, not his own place, this foreign field. 
 Where Nature fodders him with other food 
 Than was ordain'd his cravings to suffice, 
 Poor in abundance, farnish'd at a feast, 
 Sighs on for something more, when most enjoy'd. 45 
 Is Heav'n then kinder to thy flocks than thee ? 
 Not so ; thy pasture richer, but remote ; 
 In part, remote ; for that remoter part 
 Man bleats from instinct, tho', perhaps debauch'd 
 By sense, his reason sleeps, nor dreams the cause. 50 
 The cause how obvious, when his reason wakes ! 
 His grief is but his grandeur in disguise ; 
 And discontent is immortality. 
 
 Shall sons of ether, shall the blood of heav'n, 
 Set up their hopes on earth, and stable here, 55 
 
 12 
 
134 THE COMPLAINT. Ki^ht VII. 
 
 i)' 
 
 AVith brutal acquiescence in the mire ? 
 
 Lorenzo, no ! they shall be noblj pain'd ; 
 
 The glorious foreigners, distrest, shall sigh 
 
 •On thrones ; and thou congratulate the sigh. 
 
 Man's misery declares him bom for bliss ; 60 
 
 His anxious heart asserts the truth I sing, 
 
 And gives the sceptic in his head the lie. 
 
 Our heads, our hearts, our passions, and our pow'rs, 
 Speak the same language ; call us to the skies : 
 Unripen'd these in this inclement clime, 65 
 
 Scarce rise above conjecture, and mistake ; 
 And for this land of trifles those, too strong, 
 Tumultuous rise, and tempest human life : 
 What prize on earth can pay us for the storm ? 
 Meet objects for our passions heav'n ordain'd, 70 
 
 Objects that challenge all their fire, and leave 
 No fault but in defect : bless'd Heav'n I avert 
 A bounded ardour for unbounded bliss ; 
 O for a bliss unbounded .' far beneath 
 A soul immortal, is a mortal joy. 75 
 
 Nor are our powVs to perish immature ; 
 But, after feeble effort here, beneath 
 A brighter sun, and in a nolDler soil, 
 Transplanted from this sublunary bed, 
 Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their bloom. 80 
 
 Reason progressive, instinct is complete ; 
 Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. 
 Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
 Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 
 Could know, or do, or cover, or enjoy. 85 
 
 Were man to live coeval with the sun, 
 The patriarch pupil would be learning still ; 
 Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearn'd. 
 Men perish in advance, as if the sun 
 Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd ; 9^0 
 If fit, with dim, illustrious to compare. 
 The sun's meridian, with the soul of man. 
 To man, why, step-dame Natur? I so severe.? 
 Why thrown aside^hy master-pieee hcilf wrought. 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 135 
 
 While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ? 9& 
 
 Or, if abortively poor man must die, 
 
 Nor reach what reach he might, why die in dread ? 
 
 Why curst with foresight ? Wise to misery ? 
 
 Why of his proud prerogative the prey ? 
 
 Why less pre-eminent in rank than pain ? iOQ 
 
 His immortality alohe can tell ; 
 
 Full ample fund to balance all amiss, 
 
 And turn the scale in favour of the just ! 
 
 Plis immortality alone can solve 
 That darkest of enigmas, human hope— 105 
 
 Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 
 Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy, 
 All present blessings treading under foot, 
 Fs scarce a milder tyrant than despair. 
 With no past toils content, still planning new, 1 10 
 
 Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 
 Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit ? 
 Why is a wish far dearer than a crown ? 
 That Avish accomplished, why the grave of bliss ? 
 Because, in the great future buried deep, US 
 
 Beyond our plans of empire and renown. 
 Lies all that man with ardour should pursue ♦ 
 And HE Avho made him, bent him to the right. 
 
 Man's heart th' Almighty to the future sets, 
 By secret and inviolable springs ; 120 
 
 And makes his hope his sublunary joy. 
 Man's heart eats ail things, and is hungry still ; 
 ' More, more !' the glutton cries : for something new 
 So rages appetite, if man can't mount, 
 He will descend. He starves on the possest. 12& 
 
 Hence, the world's master, from ambition's spire, 
 In Caprea plunged ; and dived beneath the brute. 
 In that rank sty why wallow'd empire's son 
 Supreme ? Because he could no higher fly ; 
 His riot was ambition in despair. 13^0 
 
 Old Rome consulted birds : Lorenzo ! thou, 
 With more success, the flight of hope survey : 
 Of restless hope, for ever on the wing. 
 
136 THE COMPLAINT. Ni^ht VII. 
 
 o 
 
 High percli''d o'er ev'ry thought that falcon sits, 
 
 To % at all that rises in her sight ; 135 
 
 And, never stooping, but to mount again 
 
 Next moment, she betrays her aim's mistake, 
 
 And owns her quarry lodged beyond the grave. 
 
 There should it fail us, (it must fail us there. 
 If being fails) more mournful riddles rise, 140 
 
 And virtue vies with hope in mystery. 
 Why virtue ? Where its praise, its being fled ? 
 Virtue is true self-interest pursued : 
 What true self-interest of quite-mortal man ? 
 To close with all that makes him happy here. 145 
 
 If vice (as sometimes) is our friend on earth. 
 Then vice is virtue ; 'tis our sov'reign good. 
 In self-applause is virtue's golden prize ; 
 No self-applause attends it on thy scheme : 
 Whence self-applause ? From conscious of the right. 
 And what is right, but means of happiness ? 151 
 
 No means of happiness when virtue yields ; 
 That basis failing, falls the building too, 
 And lays in ruin ev'ry virtuous joy. 
 
 The rigid guardian of a blameless heai't, 155 
 
 So long- revered, so long reputed wise. 
 Is weak ; with rank knight-errantries o'er-run. 
 Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 
 Of self-exposure, laudable and great ? 
 Of gallant enterprise, and glorious death ? 160 
 
 Die for thy country? — thou romantic fool ! 
 Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 
 Th}^ country ! what to thee ? — The Godhead, what ? 
 (I speak v/ith awe !) tho' He should bid thee bleed ; 
 If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt, 165 
 
 Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow ; 
 Be deaf ; preserve thy being ; disobey. 
 
 Nor is it disobedience : know, Lorenzo ! 
 Whate'er th' Almighty's subsequent command, 
 His first command is this : — ' Man, love thyself.' 170 
 In this alone, free agents are not free. 
 Existence is the basis, bliss the prize ; 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 137 
 
 tf virtue costs existence^ 'tis a crime ; 
 
 Bold violation of our law supreme, 
 
 Black suicide ; though nations, which consult 175 
 
 Their gain, at thj expense, resound applause. 
 
 Since virttie's recompense is doubtful here, 
 If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 
 Why is man suffered to be good in vain ? 
 Why to be good in vain, is man enjoin'd? 180 
 
 Vv'hy to be good in vain, is man betrayed ? 
 BetrayM by traitors lodged in his own breast, 
 By sweet complacencies from virtue felt ? 
 Why whispers nature lies on virtue's part ? 
 Or if blind instinct (which assumes the name 18 "» 
 
 Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man. 
 Why reason made accomplice in the cheat ? 
 Why are the wisest loudest in her praise ? 
 Can man by reason's beam be led astray ? 
 Or, at his peril, imitate his God? 190 
 
 Since virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 
 "Or both are true, or man survives the grave. 
 
 Or man survives the grave, or own, Lorenzo, 
 Thy boast supreme, a wild absurdity. 
 Dauntless thy spirit ; cowards are thy scorn. 195 
 
 Grant man immortal, and thy scorn is just. 
 The man immortal, rationally brave. 
 Dares rush on death — because he cannot die. 
 But if man loses all, when life is lost, 
 He lives a coward, or a fool expires. 200 
 
 A daring infidel (and such there are. 
 From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge, 
 Or pure heroical defect of thought,) 
 Of all earth's madmen, most deserves a chain. 
 
 When to the grave we follow the renown'd 205 
 
 For valour, virtue, science, all we love, 
 And all we praise ; for worth, whose noon-tide beam. 
 Enabling us to think in higher style, 
 Mends our ideas of ethereal pow'rs ; 
 Dream we, that lustre of the moral world 210 
 
 Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close ? 
 12* 
 
13o THE COMPLAINT. JVight VIL 
 
 Why was he wise to know, and warm to praise, 
 
 And strenuous to transcribe, in human hfe, 
 
 The Mind Ahnighty ? Could it be, that fate, 
 
 Just when the lineaments began to shine, 215 
 
 And dawn, the Deity should snatch the draught, 
 
 With night eternal blot it out, and give 
 
 The skies alarm, lest angels too might die ? 
 
 If human souls, why not angelic too 
 Extinguish'd ? and a solitary God, 220 
 
 O'er ghastly ruin, frowning from his throne ? 
 Shall we this moment gaze on God in man ? 
 The next, lose man for ever in the dust ? 
 From dust we disengage, or man mistakes ; 
 And there, where least his judgment fears a flaw. 225 
 Wisdom and worth how boldly he commends ! 
 Wisdom and worth are sacred names ; revered, 
 Wliere not embraced ; applauded ! deified ! 
 Why not compassion'd too ? If spirits die. 
 Both are calamities ; inflicted both 230 
 
 To make us but more wretched. Wisdom^s eye 
 Acute, for what ? To spy more miseries ; 
 And worth, so recompensed, new-points their stings. 
 Or man surmounts the grave, or gain is loss. 
 And worth exalted, humbles us the more. 235 
 
 Thou wilt not patronize a scheme that makes 
 Weakness and vice the refuge of mankind. 
 
 ' Plas virtue, then, no joys ?' — Yes, joys dear bought. 
 Talk ne'er so long, in this imperfect state, 
 Virtue and vice are at eternal war. 240 
 
 Virtue's a combat ; and who fights for naught ? 
 Or for precarious, or for small reward ? 
 Who virtue's self-reAvard so loud resound. 
 Would take degrees angelic here below. 
 And virtue, while they compliment, betray, 245 
 
 By feeble motives, and unfaithful guards. 
 The crown, th' unfading crown, her soul inspires : 
 'Tis that and that alone, can countervail 
 The body's treachVies, and the world's assaults : 
 On earth's poor pay our famishM virtue dies. 250 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 139 
 
 Truth incontestable ! in spite of all 
 
 A Bayle has preach'd, or a Voltaire believed. 
 
 In man, the more we dive, the more we see 
 Heav"'n''s signet stamping an immortal make. 
 Dive to the bottom of his soul, the base 255 
 
 Sustaining all, what find we ? Knowledge, love : 
 As light and heat essential to the sun, 
 These to the soul. And why, if souls expire ? 
 How little lovely here ? How little known ? 
 Small knowledge we dig up with endless toil ; 260 
 
 And love unfeign'd may purchase perfect hate. 
 Why starved, on earth, our angel appetites, 
 While brutal are indulged their fulsome fill ? 
 Were, then, capacities divine conferred, 
 As a mock diadem, in savage sport, 265 
 
 Rank insult of our pompous poverty, 
 Which reaps but pain from seeming claims so fair? 
 In future age lies no redress ? And shuts 
 Eternity the door on our complaint ? 
 If so, for what strange ends were mortals made ! 
 The worst to wallow, and the best to weep : 270 
 
 The man who merits most, must most complain. 
 Can we conceive a disregard in Heav'n, 
 AVhat the worst perpetrate, or best endure ? 
 
 This cannot be. To love, and know, in man 
 Is boundless appetite, and boundless pow'r ; 275 
 
 And these demonstrate boundless objects too. 
 Objects, pow'rs, appetites, Heav'n suits in all ; 
 jVor, nature through, e'er violates this sweet 
 Eternal concord on her tuneful string-. 
 Is man the sole exception from her laws ? 280 
 
 Eternity struck off from human hope, 
 (I speak with truth, but veneration too) 
 Man is a monster, the reproach of Heav'n, 
 A stain, a dark impenetrable cloud 
 On nature's beauteous aspect ; and deforms, 285 
 
 (Amazing blot !) deforms her with her lord. 
 If such is man's allotment, what is Heav'n ? 
 Or own the soul immortal, or blaspheme. 
 
140 THE COMPLAINT. NislU VU 
 
 o' 
 
 Or own the soul immortal, or invert 
 All order. Go, mock-majesty! go. man I 290 
 
 And bow to thy superi0rs of the stall ; 
 Through ev'ry scene of rense superior far : 
 They graze the turf untiiPd ; they drink the stream 
 Unbre\v''d, and ever fidl, and unimbitterM 
 With doubt.?, fears, fruitless hopeg^ regrets, despairs, 
 Mankind^s peculiar ! Reason''s precious doAv^r I 296 
 No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 
 Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar ; 
 Their good is good entire, unmixM, unmarrM ; 
 They find a paradise in every field, 300 
 
 On boughs forbidden where no curses hang : 
 Their ill no more than strikes the sense ; unstretcht 
 By previous dread, or murmur in the rear : 
 When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 
 Begin? and ends their wo : they die but once ; 305 
 
 Blest, incommunicable privilege ! for which 
 Proud man, who ruies the globe, and reads the stars, 
 Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain. 
 
 Account for this prerogative in brutes. 
 ISo day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot, 310 
 
 But what beams on it from eternity. 
 O sole, and sweet solulion I That unties 
 The difficult, and softens ihe severe ; 
 The cloud on nature's beauteous face dispels ; 
 Restores bright order ; casts the brute beneath ; 315 
 And re-enthrones us in supremacy 
 Of jo}^, e'en here : admit immortal life, 
 And virtue is knight-errantry no more ; 
 Each virtue brings in hand a golden dow'r, 
 Far richer in reversion : hope exults ; 320 
 
 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 ! 
 Heav'n our leward — for heav'n enjoy'd below. 325 
 
 Still unsubdued thy stubborn heart ? — For there 
 The traitor lurks who doubts the truth I sing. 
 
THE IxVFIDEL RECLAIMED. 141 
 
 Reason is jrniltless ! will alone rebels. 
 
 What, in that stubborn heart, if I should find 
 
 New unexpected witnesses against thee ? 330 
 
 Ambition, pleasure, and the love of gain I 
 
 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 
 
 Our immortality, should prove it sure ? 335 
 
 First, then, ambition summon to the bar. 
 Ambition'*s shame, extravagance, disgust. 
 And inextinguishable nature, speak. 
 Each much deposes ; hear them in their turn. 
 
 Thy soul, how passionately fond of fame ! 340 
 
 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 
 Has made the body tutor to the soul ; 345 
 
 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 ; 
 While o'er us, in tremendous judgment sit 350 
 
 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, 
 One age is poor applause ; the mighty shout, o65 
 
 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. 360 
 
 Instinct points out an int'rest in hereafter ; 
 But our blind reason sees not where it lies ; 
 Or seeing, gives the substance for the shade. 
 
 Fame is the shade of immortality, 
 And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, 365 
 
 Contemn' d ; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. 
 
142 THE COMPLAINT. JSl'iffht VI i 
 
 Consult th' ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure. 
 
 ' And is this all :' cried Cassar, at his height, 
 
 Difgusted. This third proof ambition bring^s 
 
 Of immortality. The first in fame, 370 
 
 Observe him near, your envy will abate : 
 
 Shamed at the disproportion vast between 
 
 The passion and the purchase, he will sigh 
 
 At such success, and blush at his renown. 
 
 And why ? Because far richer prize invites 375 
 
 Ris heart ; far more illustrious glory calls r 
 
 It calls in whispers, yet/ the deafest hear. 
 
 And can ambition a fourth proof supply ? 
 It can, and stronger than the fomier three ; 
 Yet quite o'erlook'd by some reputed wise. 380 
 
 Tiiough disappointments in ambition pain, 
 And though success disgusts, yet still, Lorenzo, 
 In vain we strive to pluck it from our hearts ; 
 By nature planted for the noblest ends. 
 Absurd the famed advice to Pyrrhus giv'n, 385 
 
 More praised than ponder'd ; specious, but unsound : 
 Sooner that hero's sword the world had queli'd, 
 Than reason his ambition. Man must soar : 
 An obstinate activity within. 
 
 An unsuppressive spring, will toss him up, 390 
 
 In spite of fortune's load. Not kings alone, 
 Each villager has his ambition too ; 
 No sultan prouder than his fetter'd slave : 
 Slaves build their little Babylons of straw, 
 Echo the proud Assyrian in their hearts, 395 
 
 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 ; 
 The praise of mortals, or the praise of Heav'n. 400 
 
 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. 
 As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard 405 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 143 
 
 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,. 
 
 Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts, 410 
 
 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. 
 
 Nor is thy life, O virtue ! less in debt 41 [> 
 
 To praise, thy secret stimulating friend. 
 
 Were man not proud, what merit should we miss ! ^^ , 
 
 Pride made the virtues of the Pagan world. *'^:^ 
 
 Praise is the salt that seasons right to man, 
 
 And whets his appetite for moral good. 420 
 
 Thirst of applause is virtue's second guard ; 
 
 Reason her first ; but reason wants an aid : 
 
 Our private reason is a flatterer ; 
 
 Thirst of applause calls public judgment in 
 
 To poise our own, to keep an even scale, 4^25 
 
 And give endanger'd virtue fairer play. 
 
 Here a fifth proof arises, stronger still : 
 Why this so nice construction of our hearts r 
 These delicate moralities of sense ; 
 This constitutional reserve of aid 430 
 
 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 
 Of disciplines and pains vuipaid,) must die r 43i) 
 
 Why freighted rich to dash aguinst a rock ? 
 Were man to perish when ujost fit to live, 
 O how misspent were all the.-e stratagems, 
 By skill divine inwoven in oiir frame ! 
 Where are Heav'n's holiness and mercy fled : 440 
 
 Laughs Heav'n, at once, at virtue and at man ? 
 If not, why that discouraged, this destroy'd ? 
 
 Thus far ambition. Wliat sa^s avarice ? 
 Tills her cliief inaxim. Avhirli has Imdic been Ihine^ 
 
144 THE COMPLAINT. JVigflt VII. 
 
 ' The wise and wealthy are the same.' I grant it. 445 
 
 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 ; 
 
 'Tis thine to tell us where true treasure lies : 450 
 
 But, reason failing to discharge her trust, 
 
 Or to the deaf discharging it in vain, 
 
 A blunder follows ; and blind industry, 
 
 GalPd by the spur, but stranger to the course, 
 
 (The course where stakes of more than gold are won) 
 
 O'erloading, with the cares of distant age, 456 
 
 The jaded spirits of the present hour. 
 
 Provides for an eternity below. 
 
 ' Thou shalt not covet,' is a wise command ; 
 But bounded to the wealth the sun surveys : 464) 
 
 Look farther, the command stands quite reversed, 
 And av'rice is a virtue most divine. 
 Is faith a refuge for our happiness ? 
 Most sure. And is it not for reason too ? 
 Nothing this world unriddles, but the next. 465 
 
 AVhence 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. 
 Sour grapes, I grant, ambition, avarice : 470 
 
 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, 
 And make them sparkle in the bowl of bliss. 475 
 
 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. 
 To pleasure never was Lorenzo deaf; 480 
 
 Then hear her now, now first thy real friend. 
 
 Since nature made us not more fond than proud 
 Of happiness (whence hypocrites in joy I 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 145 
 
 Makers of mirth ! artificers of smiles !) 
 
 Why should the joy most poignant sense affords 485 
 
 Burn us with blushes, and rebuke our pride ? — 
 
 Those heav'n-born blushes tell us man descends, 
 
 E'en in the zenith of his earthly bliss : 
 
 Should reason take her infidel repose, 
 
 This honest instinct speaks our lineage high : 490 
 
 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 unmanned. 
 
 The man that blushes is not quite a brute. 495 
 
 Thus far with thee, Lorenzo, will I close : 
 
 Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made ; 
 
 But pleasure full of glory, as of joy ; 
 
 Pleasure which neither blushes nor expires. 
 
 The witnesses are heard ; the cause is o'er ; 500 
 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 ! 
 ! 'Tis immortality your nature solves ; 505 
 
 I'Tis immortahty deciphers man. 
 And opens all the myst'ries of his make. 
 Without it, half his iustincts are a riddle. 
 
 Without it, all his virtues are a dream. 
 
 His very crimes attest his dignity ; 510 
 
 His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame. 
 
 Declares him born for blessings infinite : 
 
 What less than infinite m^kes unabsurd 
 
 Passions, which all on earth but more inflames ? 
 
 Fierce passions, so mismeasured to this scene, 515 
 
 Stretch'd out, like eagles' wings, beyond our nest, 
 
 Far, far beyond the worth of all below, 
 
 For earth too lai'ge, presage a nobler flight. 
 
 And evidence our title to the skies.' 
 
 Ye gentle^ieologues, of calmer kind ! 520 
 
 Whose constRation dictates to your pen ; 
 
 W'ho, cold yourselves, think ardour comes from hell ! 
 13 
 
146 THE COMPLAINT. .^'igkt VII. 
 
 Think not our passions from corruption sprung. 
 
 Though to corruption now they lend their wings ; 
 
 That is their mistress, not their mother. All 523 
 
 (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. 
 
 In paradise itself they burnt as strong, - 530 
 
 Ere Adam fell ; thovigh 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 gaze 
 
 On trash, on toys, dethroned from high desire ? 535 
 
 Yet still, through their disgrace, no feeble ray 
 
 Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell : 
 
 But" these (like that falPn monarch when reclaimed) 
 
 When reason moderates the reign aright. 
 
 Shall re-ascend, remount their former sphere, 540 
 
 Where once they soarM illustrious ; ere seduced 
 
 By Vv^anton Even's debauch, to stroll on earth, 
 
 And set the sublunary world on fire. 
 
 But grant their frenzy lasts ; their frenzy fails 
 To disappoint one providential end, 545 
 
 For which heaven blew up ardour in our hearts : 
 Were reason silent, boundless passion speaks 
 A future scene of boundless objects too, 
 And brings glad tidings of eternal day. 
 Eternal day ! 'Tis that enlightens all ; 650 
 
 And all, by that enlighten'd, proves it sure. 
 Consider man as an immortal being. 
 Intelligible all ; and all is great ; 
 A crystalline transparency prevails, 
 And strikes full lustre through the human sphere ; 555 
 Consider man as mortal, all is dark 
 And wretched ; reason weeps at the survey. 
 
 The learn'd Lorenzo cries, ' And let fcer weep, 
 Weak, modern reason : ancient times jBBi wise. 
 Authority, that venerable guide, iPP* ^^^ 
 
 Stands on my part ; the famed Athenian porch 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 147 
 
 (And who for wisdom so renown'd as they ?) 
 
 Denied this immortality to man.' 
 
 I grant it ; but affirm, they proved it too. 
 
 A riddle, this ? — Have patience ; TU explain. 565 
 
 \^'hat noble vanities, what moral flights, 
 Glittering through their romantic wisdom's page, 
 Make us, at once, despise them, and admire ! 
 Fable is flat to these high-season'd sires ; 
 They leave th' extravagance of song below. 570 
 
 ^ Flesh shall not feel ; or, feeling, shall enjoy 
 The dagger or the rack ; to them, alike 
 A bed of ro?es, or the burning bulL' 
 In men exploding all beyond the grave, 
 Strange doctrine, this ! — As doctrine, it was strange ;^ 
 But not, as prophecy ; for such it proved, 576 
 
 And, to their own amazement, was fulnll'd : 
 They feign'd a firmness Christians need not feign. 
 The Christian truly triumphed in the flame ; 
 The Stoic saw, in double wonder lost, 580 
 
 "Wonder at them, and wonder at himself, 
 To find the bold adventures of his thought 
 Isot bold, and that he strove to lie in vain. 
 
 Whence, then, those thoughts ? those tow'ring 
 thoughts, that flew 
 Such monstrous heights ? From instinct and from pride. 
 The glorious instinct of a deathless soul, 586 
 
 Confusedly conscious of her dignity. 
 Suggested truths they could not understand. 
 In lusfs dominion, and in passion's storm. 
 Truth's system broken, scatter'd fragments lay, 590 
 As light in chaos, glimm'ring through the gloom ; 
 Sniit with the pomp of lofty sentiments. 
 Pleased pride proclaim'd what reason disbelieved. 
 Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell, 
 Raved nonsense, destined to be future ?ense, 595 
 
 When life immortal in full day shoiild shine ; 
 And death's dark shadows fly the Goipel sun. 
 They spoke, what nothing but immortal souls 
 Couid speak ; and thus the truth they question'd^ prov'd. 
 
148 THE COMPLAINT. JVight Vll, 
 
 Can then absurdities, as well as crimes, 600 
 
 Speak man immortal ? All things speak him so. 
 Much has been urged ; and dost thou call for more ? 
 Call ; and v/ith endless questions be distrest, 
 All unresolvable, if earth is all. 
 
 ' Why life, a moment ? infinite, desire ? 605 
 
 Our wish, eternity ? Our home, the grave ? 
 Heav'n's promise dormant hes in human hope ; 
 Who wishes life immortal, proves it too. 
 Why happiness pursued, though never found ? 
 Man's thirst of happiness declares it is, 610 
 
 (For nature never gravitates to naught ;) 
 That thirst, unquenchVl, declares it is not here. 
 My Lucia, thy Clarissa, call to thought ; 
 Why cordial friendship rivetted so deep, 
 As hearts to pierce at first, at parting, rend, 615 
 
 If friend, and friendship, vanish in an hour? 
 Is not this torment in the mask of joy ? 
 Why by reflection marrM the joys of sense ? 
 Why past, and future, preying on our hearts, 
 And putting all our present joys to death ? 620 
 
 Why labours reason ? Instinct were as well ; 
 Instinct, far better ; what can choose, can err : 
 O how infallible the thoughtless brute ! 
 'Twere well his holiness were half as sure. 
 Reason with inclination, why at war ? 625 
 
 Why sense of guilt ? Why conscience up in arms ?' 
 
 Conscience of guilt, is prophecy of pain, 
 And bosom-counsel to decline the blow. 
 Reason with inclination ne'^er had jarr"'d, 
 If nothing future paid forbearance here. 630 
 
 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, 
 What truth on earth so precious as the lie ? 635 
 
 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. 
 
THE INFIDEL RBCLAIMED. 149 
 
 How this life groans, -when severed from the next I 
 Poor, mutilated wretch, that disbelieves ! 640 
 
 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 
 Our ardent wishes, how should I pour out 645 
 
 ^ly bleeding heart in anguish, new, as deep ! 
 Oh I with what thoughts, thy hope, and my despair, 
 AbhorrM Annihilation ! blasts the soul, 
 And wide extends the bounds of human wo ! 
 Could I believe Loren2o''s system true, 650 
 
 In this black channel would my ravings run. 
 
 ' Grief from the future borrowed peace, erewhile. 
 The future vanjshM ! and the present painM ! 
 Strange import of unprecedented ill I 
 Fall, how profound ! like Lucifer's, the fall ! 655 
 
 Unequal fate ! his fall, without his guilt ! 
 From where fond hope built her pavilion high. 
 The gods among, hurl'd headlong, hurPd at once 
 To night ! to nothing ! darker still than night ! 
 If Hwas a dream., why wake me, my worst foe, 660 
 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. 
 Not over-rich before, noAV beggarM quite ; 665 
 
 More curst than at the fall ? — The sun goes out ! 
 The thorns shoot up ! What thorns in ev'ry thought i 
 Why sense of better? It imbitters worse. 
 Why sense ? Vv'h}- life ? If but to sigh, then sink 
 To what I was ? Twice nothing ! and much wo ! 670 
 Wo from Heav'n's bounties ! Wo from what was wont 
 To flatter most, high intellectual pow'rs ! 
 
 ' Thought, virtue, knowledge! blessings, b}'- thy scheme 
 All poison'd into pains. First, knov.'ledge, once 
 My soul's ambition, now her greatest dread. f>7.';, 
 
 To know myself, true wisdom ? No, to shun 
 That shocking science, parent of despair ! 
 3S* 
 
160 THE COMPLAINT. J\''ight l^U. 
 
 Avert thy mirror : if I see, I die. 
 
 ' Kno^v my Creator ? Climb his blest abode 
 By painful speculation, pierce the veil, 680 
 
 Dive in his nature, read his attributes, 
 And gaze in admiration — on a foe. 
 Obtruding: life, withholding happiness ! 
 From the full rivers that surround his throne, 
 Not letting fall one drop of joy on man ; 685 
 
 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, 
 Once all my comfort ; source, and soul of joy ! 690 
 Now leagued ^vith furies, and with thee* 'gainst me. 
 
 ' Know his achievements ! Study his reuovn ! 
 Contemplate this amazing universe, 
 Dropt from his hand, with miracles replete ! 
 For what ? 'Mid miracles of nobler name, 695 
 
 To find one miracle of misery ? 
 To find the being, Avhich 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, 700 
 
 Breathing high hope, chain'd down to pangs and death ? 
 
 ' Knowing is suflT'ring : and shall virtue share 
 The sigh of knowledge ? — Virtue shares the sigh, 
 By straining up the steep of excellent, 
 By battles fought, and from temptation won, 705 
 
 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 ; 
 A crime to reason, if it costs us pain 710 
 
 Unpaid. What pain, amidst a thousand more, 
 To think the most abandon-'d, after days 
 Of triumph o'er their betters, find in death 
 As soft a pillow, nor make fouler clay ! 
 
 * Lorenzo. 
 
THE INFIDEL EECLAIMED. 151 
 
 ' Duty ! Religion ! These, our duty done, 715 
 
 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 : 
 
 Ye tow'ring hopes ! abortive energies ! 720 
 
 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. 
 
 Why travel far in quest of sure defeat ? 7,25 
 
 As bounded as my being, be my wish. 
 
 All is inverted, wisdom is a fool. 
 
 Sense ! take the rein ; bhnd passion I drive us on ; 
 
 And ignorance ! befriend us on our way ; 
 
 Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace I 730 
 
 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 : 
 Their revels a more poignant relish yield, 735 
 
 And safer too ; they never poisons choose. 
 Instinct, than reason, makes more wholesome meals, 
 And sends all-marring murmur far away. 
 For sensual life they best philosophize ; 
 Theirs, that serene, the sages sought in vain : 740 
 
 ''Tis man alone expostulates with Heav'n ; 
 His, all the pow'r, and all the cause, to mourn. 
 Shall human eyes alone dissolve in tears ? 
 And bleed, in anguish, none but human hearts ? 
 The wide-stretch'd realm of intellectual wo, ' 745 
 Surpassing sensual far, is all our own. 
 In life so fatally distinguish'd, why 
 Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd, in death ? 
 
 ' Ere yet in being, was mankind in guilt ? 
 Why thunder'd this peculiar clause against us, 750 
 All-mortal, and all-wretched ? — Have the skies 
 Reasons of state their subjects may not scan, 
 Nor humbly reason, when they sorely sigh ? 
 
152 THE COMPLAINT. JVlght VU, 
 
 All-mortal, and all-wretched ! — 'Tis too much ; 
 UnparallePd in nature : 'tis too much, 755 
 
 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. 
 What superfluities are reasoning souls ! 760 
 
 Oh, give eternity ! or thought destroy ! 
 But without thought our curse were half unfelt ; 
 Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart ; 
 And, therefore, His bestow'd. I thank thee, Reason, 
 For aiding life's too small calamities, 765 
 
 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 ? 
 Too much for chaos to permit my mass 770 
 
 A longer stay with essences unwrought, 
 Unfashion'd, untormented into man ? 
 Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! 
 Wretched capacity of frenzy, thought ! 
 Wretched capacity of dying, life ! 775 
 
 Life, thought, worth, wisdom, all (O foul revolt !) 
 Once friends to peace, gone over to the foe. 
 
 ' Death then has changed its nature too : O death ! 
 Come to my bosom, thou best gift of Heav'n ! 
 Best friend of man ! since man is man no more. 780 
 Why in this thorny wilderness so long, 
 Since there's no promised land's ambrosial bow'r, 
 To pay me with its honey for my stings ? 
 If needful to the selfish schemes of Heav'n 
 To sting us sore, why mock'd our miisery ? 785 
 
 Why this so sumptuous insult o'er our heads ? 
 Why this illustrious canopy display'd ? 
 Why so magnificently lodged despair ? 
 At stated periods, sure-returning, roil 
 These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute 790 
 Their length of labours, and of pains ; nor lose 
 Their misery's fulj measure ? — Smiles with flov/'rs, 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 153 
 
 And fruits, promiscuous, ever-teeming earth, 
 
 That man may languish in luxurious scenes, 
 
 And in an Eden mourn his withered joys ? 795 
 
 Claim earth and skies man's admiration, due 
 
 For such delights ? Blest animals I too wise 
 
 To wonder ; and too happy to complain ! 
 
 ' Our doom decreed demands a mournful scene : 
 Why not a dungeon dark, for the condemned ? 800 
 Why not the dragon's subterranean den, 
 For man to howl in ? Why not his abode 
 Of the same dismal colour with his fate ? 
 A Thebes, a Babylon, at vast expense 
 Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders, 805 
 As congruous, as for man this lofty dome, 
 Which prompts proud thought, and kindles high desire ; 
 If, from her humble chamber in the dust. 
 While proud thought swells, and high desire inflames, 
 The poor worm calls us for her inmates there ; 810 
 
 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 
 That sable cloud, and turn'd it all to gold. 815 
 
 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, 820 
 
 An outcast from existence ! and this spirit, 
 This all-pervading, this all-conscious soul, 
 This particle of energj?^ divine, 
 Which travels nature, flies from star to star, 
 And visits gods, and emulates their pow'rs, 825 
 
 For ever is extinguish'd. Horror ! death I 
 Death of that death I fearless once survey'd ! — 
 W^hen horror universal shall descend. 
 And heav'n's dark concave urn all human race. 
 On that enormous, unrefunding tomb, 830 
 
 How just this verse I this monumental sigh P 
 
164 THE 60MPLAINT. JVight Vlt. 
 
 Beneath the lumber of demolished tvorldsy 
 
 Deep in the rubbish of the general wreck^ 
 
 Swept ignominious to the common mass 
 
 Of matter^ never dignified ivith life^ 835 
 
 Here lie proud rationals ; the sons of Heav'n ! 
 
 The lords of earth I the property of xvorms I 
 
 Beings of yesterday^ and not to-morroiv I 
 
 Who liv'^d in terror^ and in pangs expired I 
 
 ^11 gone to rot in chaos ; or^ to make 840 
 
 Their happy transit into blocks or brutes, 
 
 JVor longer sully their Creator's name. 
 
 Lorenzo ! hear, pause, wonder, and pronounce. 
 Just is this history ? If such is man, 
 Mankind's historian, though divine, might weep, 845 
 And dares Lorenzo smile ? — I know thee proud ; 
 For once let pride befriend thee : pride looks pal« 
 At such a scene, and sighs for something more. 
 Amid thy boasts, presumptions, and displays, 
 And art thou then a shadow ? less than shade ? 850 
 And 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 ? 
 "Why patronize sure death of ev'ry joy ? 855 
 
 Charm riches ? Why choose begg'ry in the grave, 
 Of ev'ry hope a bankrupt ! and for ever ? 
 Ambition, pleasure, avarice, persu.'ide thee 
 To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth, 
 They* lately proved thy soul's supreme desire. 860 
 
 What art thou made of? Rather how unmade ? 
 Great Nature's master-appetite destroy'd ! 
 Is endless life, and happiness, despised ? 
 Or both wish'd, here, where neither can be found ? 
 Such man's perverse eternal war with Heav'n 1 865 
 Darest thou persist ? And is there nought on earth, 
 But a long train of transitory forms, 
 
 * In the Sixth Kight. 
 
TflE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 165 
 
 Rising, and breaking, millions in an hour ? 
 
 Bubbles of a fantastic deity, blown up 
 
 In sport, and then in cruelty destroy'd ? 870 
 
 Oh I for what crime, unmerciful Lorenzo I 
 
 Destroys thy scheme the whole of human race ? 
 
 Kind is fell Lucifer, compared to thee : 
 
 Oh ! spare this waste of being half divine ; 
 
 And vindicate th' economy of Heav'n. 875 
 
 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 ? 
 Heav'n starts at an annihilating God. ^0^ 
 
 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. 
 What deadly poison has thy nature drank ? 885 
 
 To nature undebauch'd no shock so great ; 
 Nature's first wish is endless happiness ; 
 Annihilation is an after-thoug^ht, 
 A monstrous wish, unborn till virtue dies. 
 And, oh I what depth of horror lies enclosed ! 890 
 
 For non-existence no msin ever wish'd, 
 But, first, he wishM the Deity destroy'd. 
 
 If so, what words are dark enough to draw 
 Thy picture true ? The darkest are too fair. 
 Beneath what baneful planet, in what hour 895 
 
 Of desperation, by what fury's aid, 
 In what infernal posture of the soul, 
 All hell invited, and all hell in joy 
 At s\ich a birth, a birth so near of kin, 
 Did thy foul fancy whelp so black a scheme 900 
 
 Of hopes abortive, faculties half blown, 
 And deities begun, reduc'd to dust ? 
 
 There's nought, (thou say'st,) but one eternal flux 
 Of feeble essences, tumultuous driven 
 Through time's rough billows into night'i abyss. 9Qh 
 Say, in this rapid tide of human ruinj 
 
156 THE COMPLAINT. JVis[ht VIL 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Amid such hourly wrecks of being fair, 910 
 
 Is there no central all-sustaining base, 
 
 All-realizing, all-connecting powV, 
 
 Which, as it call'd forth all things, can recall, 
 
 And force destruction to refund her spoil ? 
 
 Command the grave restore her taken prey ? 915 
 
 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 outstretched arm, 
 
 When rip'ning time calls forth th' appointed hour, 
 
 Pluck'd from foul devastation's famish'd maw, 921 
 
 Binds present, past, and future, to his throne ? 
 
 His throne, how glorious, thus divinely graced, 
 
 By germinating beings clust'ring round I 
 
 A garland worthy the Divinity ! 925 
 
 A throne, by Heav'n's omnipotence in smiles, 
 
 Built (like a Pharos tow'ring in the waves) 
 
 Amidst immense effusions of his love I 
 
 An ocean of communicated bliss ! 
 
 An all-prolific, all-preserving God ! 930 
 
 This were a God indeed. — And such is man, 
 As here presumed : he rises from his fall. 
 Think'st thou Omnipotence a naked root. 
 Each blossom fair of Deity destroy'-d ? 
 Nothing is dead ; nay, nothing sleeps : each soul, 935 
 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 
 Conglobed, we bask in everlasting day, 940 
 
 (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 ! 
 How in the pangs of famish'd hope expire I 945 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 157 
 
 How bright my prospect shines ! how gloomy, thine I 
 A trembhng world I and a devouring God ! 
 Earth, but the shambles of Omnipotence ! 
 Heav'tt**? face all stain'd with causeless massacres 
 Of countless millions, born to feel the pang 950 
 
 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 our misery ? 
 Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress, 955 
 
 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 ; 
 Being, a shadow ! consciousness, a dream ! 960 
 
 A dream, how dreadful ! Universal blank 
 Before it, and behind I Poor man, a spark 
 From non-existence struck by v/rath divine ; 
 Glitt'ring a moment, nor that moment sure ; 
 'Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night, 965 
 
 His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb I 
 
 Lorenzo, dost thou feel these arguments ? 
 Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt ? 
 How hast thou dared the Deity dethrone ? 
 How dared indict him of a world like this ? 970 
 
 If such the world, creation was a crime ; 
 For what is crime, but cause of misery ? 
 Retract, blasphemer I and unriddle this, 
 Of endless arguments, above, below, 
 Without us, and within, the short result — 975 
 
 ' If man's immortal, there's a God in heav'n.' 
 
 But wherefore such redundancy ? such waste 
 Of argument ? One sets my soul at rest ! 
 One obvious, and at hand, and, oh ! — at heart. 
 So just the skies, Philander's life so pain'd, 980 
 
 His heart so pure ; that, or succeeding scenes 
 Have palms to give, or ne''Qr had he been born, 
 
 * What an old tale is this !' Loren;:o cries. 
 I grant this argument is old ; but truth 
 14 
 
158 THE COMPLAINT. JVight VII. 
 
 No years impair : and had not this been true, 985 
 
 Thou never hadst despised it for its age. 
 Truth is immortal as thy soul ; and fable 
 As fleeting- as thy joys. Be wise, nor make 
 Heav'n's highest blessing, vengeance ; O be wise .' 
 Nor make a curse of immortality. 99(5 
 
 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 ; 
 Ten thousand add ; and twice ten thousand more ; 996 
 Then weigh the whole : one soul outweighs them all ; 
 And calls th' astonishing magnificence 
 Of unintelligent creation poor. 
 For this, believe not me ; no man believe : 
 Trust not in words, but deeds ; and deeds no less 1000 
 Than those of the Supreme ; nor his, a few ; 
 Consult them all ; consulted, all proclaim 
 Thy soul's importance. Tremble at thyself; 
 For whom Omnipotence has waked so long : 
 Has waked, and work'd for ages ; from the birth 1005> 
 Of nature to this unbelieving hour. 
 
 In this small province of His vast domain, 
 (All nature bow, while I pronoimce His name !) 
 What has God done, and not for this sole end. 
 To rescue souls from death? the soul's hie;h price 1010 
 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 : 
 That is the chain of ages, which maintains 1015 
 
 Their obvious correspondence, and unites 
 Most distant periods in one blest design : 
 That is the mig-hty hinge, on which have turn'd 
 All revolutions, whether we regard 
 The nat'ral, civil, or religious world ; 1020 
 
 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^ 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMSD. 159 
 
 And an,2;els ask, * Where once they shone so fair ?' 
 To lift us from this abject, to sublime ; 1025 
 
 This flux, to permanent ; this dark, to day ; 
 
 This foul, to pure ; this turbid, to serene ; 
 
 This mean, to mighty I — for this glorious end 
 
 Th' Almighty, rising, his long sabbath broke ! 1029 
 
 The world was made ; was ruin'd ; was restored ; 
 
 Laws from the skies were publish' d ; were repealed ; 
 
 On earth, kings, kingdoms, rose ; kings, kingdoms, felf*. 
 
 Famed sages hghted up the pagan world ; 
 
 Prophets from Sion darted a keen glance 1094 
 
 Thro' distant age ; saints traveled ; martyrs bled ; 
 
 By wonders sacred nature stood controll'd ; 
 
 The living were translated ; dead were raised ; 
 
 Angels, and more than angels, came from heav'n ; 
 
 And, oh ! for this, descended lower still ! 
 
 Guilt w^as hell's gloom ; astonish'd at his guest 1040 
 
 For one short moment Lucifer adored : 
 
 Lorenzo ! and wilt thou do less ? — For this, 
 
 That hallow'd page, fools scoff at, was inspired, 
 
 Of all these truths thrice-venerable code ! 
 
 Deists I perform your quarantine ; and then 1043 
 
 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 s^cene is here ! — Lorenzo, waJce ! 
 
 Rise to the thought ; exert, expand thy soul 1050 
 
 To take the vast idea : it denies 
 
 AH else the nam°. of great. Two warring worlds ! 
 
 .Vot Europe against Afric ; warring worlds. 
 
 Of more than mortal ! mounted on the wing ! 
 
 On ardent Avings of energy and zeal, 1055 
 
 High-liov'ring o'er this little brand of strife ! 
 
 This sublunary ball — But strife, for what? 
 
 In their own cau=e conflicting ? No ; in thine. 
 
 In man's. His single int'rest blows the flame ; 
 
 His the sole stake ; his fate the trumpet sounds, 1060 
 
 Which kindles war immortal. How it burns ! 
 
 Tumultuous swarms of deities m arms I 
 
160 THE COMPLAINT. jYight VIL 
 
 Force, force oj^posing, till the waves run high, 
 
 And tempest nature's universal sphere. 
 
 Such opposites eternal, stedfast, stern, 1065 
 
 ouch foes implacable, are Good and 111 ; 
 
 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' Almiglity's outstretchM arm took down his bow, 
 And shot his indignation at the deep : 1071 
 
 Re-thunder'd hell, and darted all her fires. — 
 And seems the stake of little moment still ? 
 And slumbers man, who singly caused the storm ? 
 He sleeps. — And art thou shock'd at mysteries ? 1075 
 The greatest, thou. How dreadful to reflect, 
 "What ardour, care, and counsel, mortals cause 
 In breasts divine ! How little in their own ! 
 
 Where'er I turn, how new proofs pour upon me ! 
 How happily this wondrous view supports 1080 
 
 My former argument \ How strongly strikes 
 Immortal life's full demonstration here ! 
 W^hy this exertion ? Why this strange regard 
 From heav'n's Omnipotent indulged to man ? — 
 Because, in man, the glorious, dreadful pow'r, 1085 
 Extremely to be pain'd, or blest, for ever. 
 Duration gives importance ; swells the price. 
 An angel, if a creature of a daj--, 
 W^hat would he be ? A trifle of no weight ; 
 Or stand, or fall ; no matter which ; he's gone. 1090 
 Because immortal, therefore is indulg'd 
 This strange regard cf deities to dust. 
 Hence, heav'n looks down on earth with all her eyes : 
 Hence, the soul's mighty moment in her sight: 
 Hence ev'ry soul has partisans above, ^ 1095 
 
 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 
 Has held high counsel o'er the fate of man. 1100 
 
 Nor have the clouds those gracious counsels hid. 
 
THE liS'FIDEL RECLAIMED. 161 
 
 Angels undrew the curtain of the throne, 
 
 And Providence came forth to meet mankind : 
 
 In various modes of emphasis and awe, 
 
 He spoke his will, and trembling nature heard ; 11Q5 
 
 He spoke it loud, in thunder and in storm. 
 
 "Witness, thou Sinai I* whose cloud-cover'd height, 
 
 And shaken basis, ownM the present God : 
 
 Witness, ye billows !t whose returning tide, 
 
 Breaking the chain that fastened it in air, 1110 
 
 Bwept Egypt, and her menaces, to hell : 
 
 Witness, ye flames ! tli' Assyrian tyrant blew^ 
 
 To sevenfold rage, as impotent, as strong : 
 
 And thou, earth I witness, whose expanding jaws 
 
 Closed o'er presumption's sacrilegious sons. J 1115 
 
 Has riot each element in turn subscribed 
 
 The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise ? 
 
 Has not flame, ocean, ether, earthquake, strove 
 
 To strike this truth through adamantine man ? 
 
 If not all-adamant, Lorenzo ! hear t 1120 
 
 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, 
 
 (As far as man can penetrate) or heav'n 1125 
 
 Is an immense, inestimable prize ; 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Who would not give a trifle to prevent, J 130 
 
 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 controli'd) declare for me : 
 The skies above proclaim, ' Immortal man !' 1135 
 
 And, ' Man immortal !' all below resounds. 
 The world's a system of theology, 
 
 * Exod. xix. 16. 18. t Exod. xiv. 27. 
 
 :|: Dan. iii. 19. ^ JYumb. xvi. 32. 
 
 14* 
 
162 THE COMPLAINT. Night VIL 
 
 Read by the greatest strangers to the schools : 
 
 If honest, learn'd ; and sages o'er a plough. 
 
 Is not, Lorenzo, then, imposed on thee 1140 
 
 This hard alternative ; or, to renounce 
 
 Thy reason, and thy sense ; or, to believe ? 
 
 What then is unbelief f 'Tis an exploit ; 
 
 A strenuous enterprise : to gain it, man 
 
 Must burst through ev'ry bar of common sense, 1145 
 
 Of common shame, magnanimously wrong. 
 
 .And what rewards the sturdy combatant? 
 
 His prize, repentance ; infamy, his crown. 
 
 But wherefore infamy ?— For want of faith, 
 Down the steep precipice of wrong he slides ; 1150 
 
 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. 
 If this life's gain invites him to the deed, 1155 
 
 Why not his country sold, his fatlier slain ? 
 'Tis virtue to pursue our good supreme ; 
 And his supreme, his only good, is here. 
 Ambition, av'rice, by the wise disdain'd, 
 Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools, 1160 
 
 And think a turf, or tomb-stone, covers all : 
 These find employment, and provide for sense 
 A richer pasture, and a larger range ; 
 And sense b}'^ right divine ascends the throne, 
 When virtue's prize and prospect are no more ; 1165 
 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 ; 
 Though that our admiration, this our choice. 1170 
 
 The virtues grow on immortality ; 
 That root destroy'd, they wither and expire. 
 A Deity belie v'd,, will nought avail ; 
 Rewards and punishments make God adorM, 
 And hopes and fears give conscience all her pow'r. 
 As in the dying parent dies the child, 1176 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. IQ'S 
 
 Virtue, witli immortality, expires. 
 
 Who tells me he denies his soul immortal, 
 
 Whate'er his boast, has told xne, he's a knave. 
 
 His dutj 'tis, to love himself alone ; 1180 
 
 Nor care, though mankind perish, if he smiles. 
 
 Who thinks ere long the man shall Avhollj die, 
 
 Is dead alread}- ; nought but brute survives. 
 
 And arc there such ? — Such candidates there are 
 For more than death ; for utter loss of being ; 1185 
 Being, the basis of the Deity ! 
 
 Ask 3"ou the cause ? — The cause they will not tell ; 
 .Nor need they : Oh, the sorceries of sense I 
 They vi'^ork this transformation on the soul, 
 Dismount her, like the serpent at tlie fall, 1190- 
 
 Dismount her from her native wing (which soar'd 
 Erewhiie ethereal heights) and throv/ her down, 
 To lick the dust, and crawl in such a thought. 
 
 Is it in words to paint you ? O ye fall'n I 
 Fall'n from the wings of reason, and of hope ! 1195 
 Erect in stature, prone in appetite I 
 Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain I 
 Lovers of argument, averse to sense ! 
 Boasters of liberty, fast bound in cliains ! 
 Lords of the wide creation, and the shame ! 1200 
 
 More senseless than th' irrationals you scorn ! 
 More base than those you rule I than those you pity, 
 Far more undone ! O ye most infamous 
 Of beings, from superior dignity ! 
 
 Deepest in wo from means of boundless bliss ! 1205 
 Ye curst by blessings infinite ! because 
 Most highly favoured, most profoundly lost ! 
 Ye motley mass of contradiction strong ! 
 And are 3'ou, too, convinced, your souls fly off 
 In exhalation soft, and die in air, 1210 
 
 From the full riood 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: 
 But though you can deform, you can't destroy ; 1215 
 
164 THE COMPLAINT. Night VI J. 
 
 To curse, not iincreate, is all your power, 
 
 Lorenzo, this black brotherhood renounce ; 
 Renounce St. Evremont* and read St. Paul. 
 Ere wrapt by miracle, by reason wing'd, 
 His mounting mind made long abode in heav'n. 1220 
 This is free thinking, unconfinM tO parts, 
 To send the soul on curious travel bent, 
 Through all the provinces of human thought ; 
 To dart her flight through the whole sphere of man ; 
 Of this vast universe to make the tour ; 1225 
 
 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 ; 
 To look on truth imbroken, and entire ; 1230 
 
 Truth in the system, the full orb ; where truths 
 By truths enlighten'd, and sustained, afford 
 An arch-like strong foundation, to support 
 Th^ incumbent weight of absolute complete 
 Conviction : here the more we press, we stand 1235 
 More firm ; who most examine, most believe. 
 Parts, like half-sentences, confound ; the whole 
 Conveys the sense, and God is understood ; 
 Who not in fragments writes to human race : 
 Read his whole volume, sceptic ! then reply- 1240 
 
 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 .'* 1245 
 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 
 For ampler orbs, for new creations, there. 1250 
 
 Can such a soul contract itself, to gripe 
 4 point of no dimension, of no weight ? 
 
 * An infidel writer. 
 
THE IXFIDEL RECLAIMED. Ibii 
 
 It can ; it does : the world is such a point ; 
 
 And, of that point, how small a part enslaves ! 1255 
 
 How^ small a part — of nothing, shall I say ? 
 Why not ? — Friends, our chief treasure, how they drop I 
 Lucia, Narcissa fair, Philander, gone ! 
 The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has opM 
 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 sa3"s this transportation of my friends ? 
 It bids me love the place where now they dwell, 
 And scorn this wretched spot they leave so poor. 1265 
 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 ; 
 Weigh anchor ; spread thy sails ; call ev'ry wind ; 
 Eye thy great Pole-star ; make the land of life. 1271 
 
 Tavo kinds of life has double-natural man, 
 And two of death ; the last i'ar more severe. 
 Life animal is nurturM by the sun ; 
 Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams. 1275 
 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) 
 'Tis utter darkness, strictly double death. 1280 
 
 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, 
 (For light and darkness blend not in one sphere) 
 'Tis manifest, Lorenzo, who must change. 1285 
 
 If, then, that double death should prove thy lot, 
 Blame not the bov/els of the Deity : 
 Man shall be blest, as far as man permits. 
 Not man alone, all rationals, heav'n arms 
 With an illustrious, but tremendous pow'r 1290 
 
 To counteract its own most gracious ends ; 
 
166 THE COMPLAINT. J^lght FJI. 
 
 And this, of strict necessity, not choice : 
 
 That pow'r denied, men, angels, were no more 
 
 But passive engines, void of praise or blame. 
 
 A nature rational implies the pow^r 1295 
 
 Of being blest, or wretched, as %ve please ; 
 
 Else idle reason would have nought to do : 
 
 And he that would be barrM capacity 
 
 Of pain, courts incapacity of bliss. 
 
 Heav'n wills our happiness, allows our doom ; 1300 
 
 Invites us ardently, but not compels. 
 
 Heav'n but persuades, almighty man decrees ; 
 
 Man is the maker of immortal fates, 
 
 Man falls by man, if finally he falls ; 
 
 And fall he must, who learns from death alone, 1305 
 
 The dreadful secret — that he lives for ever. 
 
 Why this to thee ? — thee yet, perhaps, in doubt 
 Of second hfe ? But wherefore doubtful still ? 
 Eternal life is Nature's ardent wish : 
 What ardently we wish, we soon believe ; 1310 
 
 Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroyed : 
 What has destroy'd it ?— Shall I tell thee what? 
 When fear'd the future, 'tis no longer wishM ; 
 And when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve. 
 ' Thus infidelitj^ our guilt betrays.' 1315 
 
 Nor that the sole detection ! Blush, Lorenzo, 
 Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt. 
 
 The future fear'd ! — An infidel, and fear ? 
 Fear what ? a dream ? a fable ? — How thy dread, 
 Unwilhng evidence, and therefore strong, 1320 
 
 Affords my cause an undesign'd support I 
 How disbelief affirms what it denies ! 
 ' It, unawares, asserts immortal life.'— 
 Surprising ! Infidelity turns out 
 
 A creed, and a confession of our sins : 1325 
 
 Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines. 
 
 Lorenzo, with Lorenzo clash no more ; 
 Nor longer a transparent vizor wear. 
 Think'st thou, religion only has her mask ? 
 QiiT infidels are Satan's hypocrites ; 1330 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 167 
 
 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 ? 
 
 So fatal to the welfare of the world ? 1335 
 
 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 
 
 A hell on earth ; nor 'scape a worse below. 1340 
 
 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 ? 
 Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand ? 1.345 
 From purer manners, to sublimer faith, 
 Is nature's unavoidable ascent ; 
 An honest deist, where the Gospel shines, 
 Matur'd to nobler, in the Christian ends. 
 When that blest change arrives, e'en cast aside 1350 
 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 ; 
 And ardent hope anticipates the sides. 1355 
 
 Of that bright sun, Lorenzo ! scale the sphere ; 
 'Tis 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 
 Where triumphs immortality ; a page 1360 
 
 Which not the whole creation could produce ; 
 Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; 
 In nature's ruins not one letter lost : 
 'Tis printed in the mind of gods for ever. 
 
 In proud disdain of what e'en gods adore, 1365 
 
 Dost smile ? — Poor wretch I thy guardian angel weeps. 
 Angels, and men, assent to what I sing ; 
 
 * Sep Milfort^f Paradise Lost. 
 
16-8 THE COMPLAINT. Night VIL 
 
 Wits smile, and thank me for my midnight dream. 
 
 How vicious hearts fume frenzy to the brain ! 
 
 Parts push us on to pride, and pride to shame ; 1370 
 
 Pert infidelity is Wifs cockade, 
 
 To grace the i)razen brow that braves the skies, 
 
 By loss of being, dreadfully secure. 
 
 Lorenzo ! if thy doctrine wins the day, 
 
 And drives ray dreams, defeated, from the field ; 1375 
 
 If this is all, if earth a final scene, 
 
 Take heed ; stand fast ; be sure to be a knave ; 
 
 A knave in grain ! ne''er deviate to the right : 
 
 Shouldst thou be good — how infinite thy loss ! 
 
 Guilt only makes annihilation gain. 1380 
 
 Blest scheme ! which life deprives of comfort, death 
 
 Of hope ; and which vice only recommends. 
 
 If £0, wliere, infidels, joxxx bait thrown out 
 
 To catch weak converts ? "^V here your lofty boast 
 
 Of zeal for virtue, and of love to man ? 1385 
 
 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 : 
 Yours be the praise to make my title good ; 1390 
 
 Mine, to bless Heav^'n, and triumph in your praise. 
 But since so pestilential your disease. 
 Though sovVeign is the med'cine I prescribe, 
 As yet, ni neither triumph, nor despair : 
 But hope, ere long, my midnight dream will wake 139^^, 
 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; 1400 
 
 Increase and enter on the joys of heav'n : 
 Thus shall m}' title pass a sacred seal. 
 Receive an imprimatur from above. 
 While angels shout — An infidel reclaimed f 
 
 * The Infidel Reclaimed^ 
 
THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 169 
 
 To close, Lorenzo. Spite of all my pains, 1405 
 
 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. 
 Deny thou art ; then, doubt if thou shalt be. 1410 
 
 A miracle with miracles enclosed, 
 Is man : and starts his faith at what is strange ? 
 What less than wonders, from the Wonderful ? 
 What less than miracles, from God, can flow ? 
 Admit a God — that mystery supreme ! 1415k 
 
 That Cause uncaused ! all other wonders cease ; 
 Nothing is marvellous for him to do : 
 Deny Him — all is mystery besides ; 
 Millions of mysteries ! each darker far 
 Than that thy wisdom would, unwisely, shun. 1420 
 If weak thy faith, why choose the harder side ? 
 We nothing know, but what is marvellous ; 
 Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe. 
 So weak our reason, and so great our God. 
 What most surprises in the sacred page, 1425 
 
 Or full as strange, or stranger, must be txue. 
 Faith is not reason's labour, but repose. 
 
 To faith, and virtue, why so backward, man ? 
 From hence : — The present strongly strikes us all ; 
 The future, faintly. Can we, then, be men ? 1430 
 
 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 unconfined : 
 On that expending all her godlike power, 1435 
 
 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 defined : 
 Reason is upright stature in the soul. 1440 
 
 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. 
 15 
 
no THE COMPLAINT. Night VII. 
 
 That tyrant, Hope, mark how she domineers : 
 
 She bids us quit realities for dreams ; 1445 
 
 Safety and peace, for hazard and alarm : 
 
 That tyrant ©""er the tyrants of the soul, 
 
 She bids Ambition quit its taken prize, 
 
 Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 
 
 Though bearing crowns, to spring at distant game ; 1450 
 
 And plunge in toils and dangers — for repose. 
 
 If hope precarious, and of things, when gained, 
 
 Of little moment, and as little stay. 
 
 Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys ; 
 
 What then, that hope, which nothing can defeat, 1455 
 
 Our leave unask'd ? Rich hope of boundless bliss ! 
 
 Bliss, past man's power to paint it ; time's, to close ! 
 
 This hope is earth's most estimable prize : 
 This is man's portion, while no more than man : 
 Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 1460 
 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 ; 
 Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys : 1465 
 
 'Tis all our present state can safely bear, 
 Health to the frame ! and vigour to the mind ! 
 A joy attempered ! a chastised delight ! 
 Like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet I 
 "Tis man's full cup ; his paradise below ! 1470 
 
 A blest hereafter, then, or hoped, or gain'd, 
 Is all ; — our whole of happiness : full proof, 
 i chose no trivial or inglorious theme. 
 And know, ye foes to song ! (well meaning men, 
 Though quite forgotten half your Bible's* praise I) 
 Important truths, in spite of verse, may please. 1476 
 Grave minds you praise ; nor can you praise too much : 
 If there is weight in an eternity. 
 Let the grave listen ; — and be graver still. 
 
 * The poet leal parts of if. 
 
THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 NIGHT VIII. 
 
 000 
 
 % 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, espoused my part? 
 Have I bribed 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 3'et Lorenzo still affects the world ; 
 There, stows his treasure ; thence, his title draws, 
 Man of the world ! (for such wouldst thou be call'd) 
 And art thou proud of thot inj^jlorious style ? 
 Proud of reproach r For a reproach it was, 10 
 
 In ancient days ; and Christian, — in an age. 
 When men were men, and not ashamed of heav'n, 
 Fired their ambition, as it crownM their joy. 
 Sprinkled v/ith dews from the Castalian font, 
 Fain v/ould I re-baptize thee, and confer 1 5 
 
 A purer spirit and a nobler name. 
 
 Thy fond attachments, fatal and inflamed, 
 Point out my path, and dictate to my song : 
 
172 THE COMPLAINT. Kigllt Fill. 
 
 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 ; 
 A blaze, — the least illustrious object there. 
 
 Lorenzo ! since eternal is at hand. 
 To swallow time's ambitions ; as the vast 35 
 
 Leviathan, the bubbles vain, that ride 
 High on the foaming billow ; what avail 
 High titles, high descent, attainments high, 
 If unattain'd our highest ? 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 bums, 
 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 enrols 
 The rise and progress of each option there ; 
 Sacred to doomsday ! That the page unfolds, 50 
 
 And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men. 
 
 And what an option, O Lorenzo ! thine ? 
 This world ! and this, unrivall'd by the skies ? 
 A world, where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold. 
 Three demons that divide its realms between them, 55 
 With strokes alternate buffet to and fro 
 
VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 173 
 
 Man''s restless heart, their sport, their flying ball ; 
 
 Till, with the giddy circle, sick and tired, 
 
 It pants for peace, and drops into despair. 
 
 Such is the world Lorenzo sets above 60 
 
 That glorious promise, angels were esteem'd 
 
 Too mean to bring ; a promise, their Adored 
 
 Descended to communicate, and press. 
 
 By counsel, miracle, life, death, on man. 
 
 Such is the world Lorenzo's wisdom woos, 65 
 
 And on its thorny pillow seeks repose ; 
 
 A pillow, which, like opiates ill prepared, 
 
 Intoxicates, but not composes ; fills 
 
 The visionary mind with gay chimeras, 
 
 All the wild trash of sleep, without the rest ; 70 
 
 What unfeignM travel, and what dreams'of joy ! 
 
 How frail, men, things ! how momentary both I 
 Fantastic chase of shadows, hunting shades I 
 The gay, the busy, equal, though unlike ; 
 Equal in wisdom, differently wise I 75 
 
 Through flow'ry meadows, and tliro' dreary wastes, 
 One bustling, and one dancing, into death. 
 There's not a day, but, to the man of thought, 
 Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach 
 On life, and makes him sick of seeing more. 80 
 
 The scenes of business tell us — ' What are men ;' 
 Tlie scenes of pleasure — ' What is all beside :' 
 There, others we despise ; and here, ourselves. 
 Amid disgust eternal, dwells delight ? 
 'Tis approbation strikes the string of joy. 85 
 
 What wondrous prize has kindled this career, 
 Stuns M^th the din, and chokes us with the dust, 
 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 ; 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 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE COMPLAINT. Night VIII' 
 
 Whirl'd, straw-like, round and round, and then ingulf d, 
 Where gay delusion darkens to despair ! 
 
 ' This is a beaten track.' — Is this a track 
 Should not be beaten ? Never beat enough, 
 Till enough learnt the truths it would inspire, 100 
 
 Shall truth be silent because folly frowns ? 
 Turn the world's history ; what find we there, 
 But fortune's sports, or nature's cruel claims, 
 Or v/oman'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 paradise begins ; 110 
 
 As if the toil of travel to delude, 
 Prorn stage to stage, in his eternal round, 
 The days, his daughters, as they spin our hours 
 On fortune's wheel, where accident imthought 
 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 trust them ; and laugh round the year. 
 At still-confiding, still-confounded, man ; 125 
 
 Confiding, though confounded ; hoping on. 
 Untaught by trial, unconvinced by proof, 
 And ever looking for the never seen. 
 Life to the last, like hardened felons, lies ; 
 Nor owns itself a cheat, till it expires. If^^f 
 
 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. 
 
 O Thou, who dost permit these ills to fall, 
 
virtue's APOLOGi'. 175 
 
 For gfracioUs ends, and wouldst that man should mourn I 
 O Thou, whose hands this goodly fabric framed, 136 
 Who know'st it best, and wouldst that man should 
 
 know ! 
 What is this sublunary world ? A vapour ! 
 A vapour all it holds ; itself a vapour, 
 From the damp bed of chaos, by thy beam 140 
 
 Exhaled, ordained to swim its destined 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 ; 
 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 I a land of shadows ! 
 A fruitful field of flow'ry promises ! 
 A wilderness of joys ! perplexM 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 I 
 Frown soon it must. Of various rates they sail, 
 Of ensigns various ; all alike in this, 155 
 
 All restless, anxious ; tossM with hopes and fears, 
 In calmest skies ; obnoxious all to storm ; 
 And stormy the most general blast of life : 
 All bound for happiness ; yet few provide 
 The chart of knowledge, pointing where it lies ; 160 
 Or virtue's helm, to shape the course designed : 
 All, more or less, capricious fate lament. 
 Now lifted by the tide, and now resorbed, 
 And farther from their wishes than before : 
 A-11, more or less, against each other dash, 165 
 
 To mutual hurt, by gusts of passion driven. 
 And suffering more from folly than from fate. 
 
 Ocean ! thou dreadful and tumultuous home 
 Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! 
 Death's capital, where most he domineers, 170 
 
 With all hi? chosen terrors frowning ro-und, 
 
176 THE COMPLAINl*. JVighi VI fL 
 
 (Though lately feasted high at Albion's cost*) 
 
 Wide opening, and loud roaring still for more I 
 
 Too faithful mirror ! how do^t thou relJect 
 
 The melanchohr face of human life ! 175 
 
 The strong resemblance tempts me farther still : 
 
 And hapl}', Britain may be deeper struck 
 
 By moral truth, in such a mirror seen, 
 
 Which nature holds for ever at her eye. 
 
 Self-flatter'd, unexperienced, high in hope, 180 
 
 When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers gay, 
 We cut our cable, launch into the world, 
 And fondly dream each wind and star our friend ; 
 All, in some darling enterprise embarkM ; 
 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, 'tis won ! 'tis lost ! 
 Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate : 
 They strike •, and, while they triumph, they expire. 
 In stress of Aveather, most ; some sink outright ; 195 
 O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close ; 
 To-morrow knows not they were ever born. 
 Others a short memorial leave behind. 
 Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulf 'd ; 
 It floats a moment, and is seen no more : 200 
 
 One Caesar lives ; a thousand are forgot. 
 How few beneatli 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 e'en these, 205 
 Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain : 
 Free from misfortune, not from nature free, 
 They still are men ; and when is man secure i* 
 
 * Admiral Balchen^ &c. 
 
virtue's apology. Ill 
 
 As fatal time, as storm ! the rush of years 
 
 Beats down their strength ; their numberless escape? 
 
 In ruin end : and, now, their proud success 211 
 
 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 
 
 Wo then apart (if wo 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 I) 
 Con%ince me most of human misery : 220 
 
 What are they ? Smiling wretches of to-morrow ! 
 More wretched, then, than e'er their slave can be ; 
 Their treacherous blessings, at the day of need, 
 Like other faithless friends, unmask, and sting. 
 Then, what provoking indigence in wealth I 525 
 
 What aggravated impotence in power ! 
 High titles, then, what insult of their pain ! 
 If that sole anchor, equal to the waves. 
 Immortal hope ! defies not the rude storm, 
 Takes comfort from the foaming billow's rage, 230 
 
 And makes a welcome harbour of the tomb. 
 
 Is this a sketch of what thy soul admires ? 
 ' But here (thou say'st) the miseiies of life 
 Are huddled in a group. A more distinct 
 Survey, perhaps, might bring thee better news.^ 255 
 Look on hfe's stages : they speak plainer still ; 
 The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou sigh. 
 Look on thy lovely boy ; in him behold 
 Tlie best that can befall the best on earth ; 
 The boy has virtue by his mother's side : 240 
 
 Yes, on Florello look : a father's heart 
 Is tender, though the man's is made of stone ; 
 The truth, through such a medium seen, may make 
 I»pression 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 ; 
 
178 THE COMPLAINT. * Alight VIII. 
 
 Care full of love, and 3-et severe as hate ! 
 
 O'er Ihj souls joy how oft thy fondness frowns ! 
 
 Needful austerities his v/ill restrain ; 250 
 
 As thorns fence in the tender plant from harm. 
 
 As yet, his reason cannot go alone ; 
 
 But asks a sterner nurse to lead it on. 
 
 His little heart is often terrified ; 
 
 The blush of morning, in his cheek, turns pale ; 255 
 
 Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye ; 
 
 His harinless eye ! and drowns an angel there. 
 
 Ah I what avails his innocence ? The task 
 
 Enjoin'd must discipline his early powers ; 
 
 He learns to sigh, ere he is known to sin ; 2C0 
 
 Guiltless, and sad ! a wretch before the fall ! 
 
 How cruel this ! more cruel to forbear. 
 
 Our nature such, with necessary pains 
 
 We purchase prospects of precarious peace^ 
 
 Though not a father, this might steal a sigh. 265 
 
 Suppose him disciplined aright, (if not, 
 'Twiil sink our poor account to poorer still ;) 
 llipe frox^i the tutor, proud of liberty, 
 He leaps enclosures, bounds into the world ! 
 The world is taken, after ten years' toil, 270 
 
 Like ancient Troy ; and all its joys his own. 
 Alas ! the world's a tutor more severe ; 
 Its lessons hard, and ill deserve his pains ; 
 Unteaching all his"^'irtuous nature taught, 
 Or books (fair virtue's advocates !) inspired. 275 
 
 For who receives him into public life ? 
 Men of the world, the terrse-fdial breed, 
 Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere, 
 (Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his sight) 
 And in their hospitable arms enclose : 280 
 
 Men, who think nought so strong: of the romance, 
 So rank knight -errant, as a real friend : 
 Men, that act up to reason's golden rule, 
 All weakness of affection quite subdued : 
 Men, that would blush at being thought sincere, 285 
 And feign, for glorj'^, the few faults they want ; 
 
virtue's apology. 179 
 
 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 FlorelJo's sake, 'twill 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 ; 
 Ail 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 every welfare but their own ; 
 As wise as Lucifer ; and half as good ; 
 And by whom none but Lucifer can gain — 300 
 
 Naked, through these (so common fate ordains) 
 Naked of heart, his cruel course he runs, 
 Stung out of all, most amiable in life, 
 Prompt truth, and open thought, and smiles unfeign'd. 
 Affection, as his species, wide diffused ; 30.j 
 
 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 : 31. • 
 
 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 liis soul, 320 
 
 Bj^ base alloy, to bear the current stamp 
 Below call'd wisdom ; sinks him into safety ; 
 And brands him into credit with the world ; 
 Where specious titles dignify disgrace. 
 And naturc"'s injuries are arfs of lif'- , 325 
 
180 THE COMPLAINT. JVigflt VllI 
 
 Where bripjhter reason prompts to bolder crimes ; 
 And heav'nly talents make infernal hearts ; 
 That unsurmountable extreme of guilt ! 
 
 Poor Machiavel ! who laboured hard his plan, 
 Forgot, that genius needs not go to school ; 330 
 
 Forgot, that man, without a tutor wise, 
 His plan had practised, long before 'twas writ. 
 The world's all title-page, there's no contents : 
 The world's all face ; the man who shows his heart 
 Is hooted for his nudities, and scorned. 335 
 
 A man I knew, who lived upon a smile ; 
 And well it fed him ; he look'd plump and fair, 
 While rankest venom foam'd through ev'ry vein. 
 Lorenzo ! what I tell thee, take not ill ; 
 Living, he fawn'd on every fool alive ; 340 
 
 And, dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived. 
 To such proficients thou art half a saint. 
 In foreign realms (for thou hast travell'd far) 
 How curious to contemplate two state rooks. 
 Studious their nests to feather in a trice ; 345 
 
 With all the necromantic s 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 I 
 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 {ew friends they serve ? 
 For who can thank the man, he cannot see ? 356 
 
 Why so much cover ? It defeats itself. 
 Ye thjfit know all things ! know ye not, men's hearts - 
 Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd ? 
 For why conceal'd ? — The cause they need not tell. 
 I give him joy, that's awkward at a lie ; 361 
 
 Whose feeble nature truth keeps still in awe : 
 His incapacity is his renown. 
 'Tis great, 'ti? majily, to disdain disguise ; 
 
virtue's apologv. 181 
 
 It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. 36 r> 
 
 Thou say'st, 'tis needful. Is it therefore right ? 
 However, I grant it some small sign of grace, 
 To strain at an excuse. And wouldst thou then 
 Escape that cruel need ? Thou ma3^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 demons, long before we die. 380 
 
 To show how fair the world, thy mistress, shines. 
 Take either part, sure ills attend the choice ; 
 Sure, though not equal, detriment ensues. 
 Not virtue's self is deified on earth ; 
 Virtue has her relapses, conflicts, foes ; 38u 
 
 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 ? 
 If wisdom has her miseries to mourn, 390 
 
 How can poor folly lead a happy life ? 
 And if both suffer, what has earth to boast, 
 Where he most happy, who iljc least laments ? 
 W^here much, much patience, the most envy'd state, 
 And some forgiveness, needs the best of friends ? 39' 
 For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher, 
 Of neither shall he find the shadow here. 
 
 The world's sworn advocate, without a fee. 
 Lorenzo smartly, with a smile replies : 
 ' Thus far thy song is right ; and all must myrt. -lOO 
 
 Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. — 
 And joys peculiar who to vice deni^? - 
 IT riro it je. with nature to rr.mrl v ■ 
 
182 THE COMPLAIJ^JT. Night Vlll. 
 
 If pride and sense are so predominant, 
 
 To check, not overcome them, makes a saint : 405 
 
 Can nature in a plainer voice proclaim 
 
 Pleasure, and glory, the chief good of man ?' 
 
 Can pride and sensuality rejoice ? 
 From purity of thought, all pleasure springs ; 
 And from an humble spirit all our peace. 410 
 
 Ambition, pleasure ! Let us talk of these : 
 Oftliese, tiie Porch, and Academj^ talk'd : 
 Of tliese, each foliowinc; age had much to say : 
 Yet unexhausted, still, the needful theme. 
 ^Vho talks of these, to mankind all at once 415 
 
 lie talks ; for where the saint from either free ? 
 Are these thy^ refuge ? — No : these rush upon thee ; 
 '^i'hy vitals seize, and, vulture-like, devour. 
 I'j] try, if I can pluck thee from thy rock, 
 Prometheus ! from this barren ball of earth : 420 
 
 If reason can unchain thee, thoti art free. 
 
 And first, thy Caucasus, ambition, calls : 
 Mountain of torments I eminence of woes I 
 Of courted woes ! and courted through mistake ? 
 'Tis not ambition charms thee ; 'tis a cheat 425 
 
 Will make thee start, as H at his Moor. 
 
 Dost grasp at greatness ? First, know wliat 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 irom the throng, 436 
 
 Is glory lodged : 'tis lodged in the reverse \ 
 
 In that which joins, in that v/hich equals all, 
 
 'I'he 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 tihy full-bloAvn brothers of the world, 440 
 Tln'ow scorn around thee : cast it on thy slaves ; 
 'i'i)y ;?]Hve.s. and equals : how scorn cast on them 
 
virtue's apology. luJ 
 
 Rebound? on ihee ! If man is mean, as man, 
 
 Art thou a god ? If fortune makes liim so, 
 
 Beware the consequence : a maxim that, 44.3 
 
 Which draws a monstrous picture of mankind, 
 
 Where, in the drapery, the nian is lost ; 
 
 Externals fluttering, and iUe soul forgot. 
 
 Thy greatest gloiy w^hen disposed to boaJ^t, 
 
 Boast that aloud, in w4iich thy servants share. 430 
 
 We wisely strip the steed Ave mean to buy : 
 Judge we, in their caparisons, of men ? 
 It nought avails thee, where, but wdiat, thou art ; 
 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 tlie forbidden tree, 
 They leave their party-colourM 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, 463 
 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 surve3's 473 
 Nought greater than an honest humble heart ; 
 An humble heart, his residence I pronounced 
 His second seat ; and rival to the skies. 
 The private path, the secret acts of men, 
 If noble, far the noblest of our lives ! 480 
 
184 TH£: COMPLAINT. JVight VIII. 
 
 How far above Lorenzo"' s glory sits 
 
 Th' ilkistrious master of a name unknown ; 
 
 Whose worth imrivalPtl, and unwitness'd, loves 
 
 Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with men ;' 
 
 And peace, be3'ond tlie v> orld's conceptioti, smiles ! 
 
 As thou, (nov/ dark,) before we part, shalt see. 486 
 
 But thy great soul this sculking glory scorns. 
 Lorenzo's sick, but when Lorenzo's seen ; 
 And, when he shrugs at public bus'ness, lies. 
 Denied the public eye, the public voice, 490 
 
 As if he lived on others' breath, he dies. 
 Fain would he make the world his pedestal ; 
 Mankind, the gazers ; the sole figure, he. 
 KnoAvs he, that mankind praise against their will, 
 And mix as much detraction as ihe}^ 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 countr3- by five hundred ears, 
 Senates at once admire liim and despise, 
 With modest laughter lining loud applause, 
 W^hich makes the smile more mortal to his fame ? 
 His fame, which (like the mighty Cresar) crown'd 505 
 With laurels, in full senate greatly falls. 
 By seeming liiends, that honour and destroy. 
 We rise in glorj', as we sink in pride : 
 Where boasting: ends, there dignity begins : 
 And yet, mistaken beyond all mistake, 510 
 
 The blind Lorenzo's proud — of being proud ; 
 And dreams himself ascending in his fall. 
 
 An eminence, though fancied, turns the brain : 
 All vice wants hellebore ; but, of all vice. 
 Pride loudest calls, and for the lare;est bowl ; 515 
 
 Because, all other vice unlike, it flies. 
 In fact, the point, in fancy most pursued. 
 Who court applause, oblige the world in this ; 
 They gratify man's passion to refuse. 
 
virtue'^s apology. i8c> 
 
 Superior honour, when assumed^ is lost ; 5^20 
 
 E'en good men turn banditti, and rejoice, 
 Like Kouli Kan, in phinder of the proud. 
 
 Thoug-h somewhat disconcerted, steady still 
 To the world's cause, with half a face of joy, 
 Lorenzo cries, — ' Be, then, ambition cast ; o'io 
 
 Ambition's dearer far stands unimpeach'd. 
 Gay pleasure ! Proud ambition is her slave ; 
 For her, he soars at great, and hazards ill ; 
 For her, he fights, and bleeds, or overcomes ; 559 
 
 And paves his way with crowns, to reach her smile : 
 Who can resist her charms ?' — Or, should ? Lorenzo ! 
 What mortal shall resist, Avhere angel? jdeld ? 
 Pleasure's the mistress of ethereal powei's ; 
 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 frorn 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 pleasure court; and some obscene. 545 
 Pleasures obscene are various, as the throng 
 Of passions, that can err in human hearts ; 
 Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds. 
 Think you there's but one whoredom ? Whoredom all 
 But when our reason licenses delight. 550 
 
 Dost douljt, Lorenzo ^ Thou shalt doubt no more. 
 Thy father chides tliy gallantries ; yet hogs 
 An ugly common harlot in the dark ; 
 A rank adulterer with others' gold ! 
 And that hag, vengeance, in a corner charms. 555 
 
 Hatred her brothel has, as well as love, 
 Where horrid epicures debauch in blood. 
 Wi^ate'er the motive, pleasure is the mark : 
 
186 THE COMPLAINT. Night VIII. 
 
 For her the black assassin draws his sword ; 
 
 For her, dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, 560 
 
 To which no single sacrifice may fall ; 
 
 For her, the saint abstains ; the miser starves ; 
 
 The stoic proud, for pleasure, pleasure scorn'd ; 
 
 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 power ! 
 
 And as her empire M'ide, her praise is just. 
 Patron of pleasure ! doater on delight I 570 
 
 I am ihy rival ; pleasure I profess ; 
 Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. 
 Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name : 
 I wrong her still, I rate her worth too low ; 
 Virtue the root, and pleasure is the flower ; 575 
 
 And honest Epicurus' foes were fools. 
 
 But this sounds harsh, and gives the wise offe;nce ; 
 If o'erstrain'd wisdom still retains the name. 
 How knits austerity her cloudy brow, 
 And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praise 580 
 
 Of pleasure to mankind, unpraised, too dear ! 
 Ye modern stoics ! hear ray soft reply : — 
 Their senses men will trust ; we can't impose ; 
 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.' 
 Truth never was indebted to a lie. 
 Is nought but virtue to be praised, as good ? 
 Why then is health preferred before disease ? 
 What nature loves is good, withotit om- leave ; 590 
 
 And where no future drawback cries, ' Beware ;' 
 Pleasure, though not from virtue, should prevail. 
 'Tis 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 youngest sister, though more grave, 
 
virtue's apology. 187 
 
 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 I 
 Who think'st thyself a Murray, with disdain 
 Mayst look on me. Yet, my Demosthenes !* 
 Canst thou plead pleasure's cause as well as I ? 
 Know'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage ? 60n 
 
 Attend my song, and thou shalt know them all ; 
 And know thyself ; and know thyself to be 
 (Strange truth !) the most abstemious man alive. 
 Tell not Calista : she will laugh thee dead ; 
 
 Or send thee to her hermitage with L . 610 
 
 Absurd presumption ! Thou who never knew'st 
 
 A serious thought ! shalt thou dare dream of joy ? 
 
 No man e'er found a happy life by chance, 
 
 Or yawn'd it into being with a wish ; 
 
 Or, with the snout of 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 I) 'tis never sought in vain. 
 
 First, pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and grandeur see ; 
 Brought forth by wisdom, nursed by discipline, 6^5 
 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 I 
 
 * Jl famous Grecian orator. 
 
188 THE COMPLAINT. Kiglit Fill. 
 
 U men are rational, and love delight, 635 
 
 Thy gracious law but flatters human choice : 
 
 in the transgression lies the penalty ; 
 
 And they tlie 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. 
 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 ? 
 ■^Tis from the pleasure of repast, we live ; 
 ^Tis from the pleasure of applause, we please ; 650 
 
 "■Tis from the pleasure of belief, we pray : 
 (All pray'r would cease, if unbelieved the prize :) 
 U serves ourselves, our species, and our God ; 
 And to serve more, is past the sphere of man. 
 GHde, then, for ever, pleasure's sacred stream I 655 
 Through Eden, as Euphrates ran^ it runs, 
 And fosters ev'ry growth of happy life ; 
 MaJces a new Eden where it flows ; — but sucli 
 As must be lost, Lorenzo, by thy fail. 
 
 ' What mean I by thy fall ?'— Thou'lt shortly see, 
 While pleasure's nature is at large displaj^ed ; 661 
 
 Already sung her origin and ends. 
 Those glorious ends, by kind, or by degree. 
 When pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice, 
 A vengeance too ; it hastens into pain : 665 
 
 From due refreshment, life, health, reason, joy ; 
 From wild excess, pain, grief, distraction, death ; 
 Heav'n's justice this proclaims, and that her love. 
 What greater evil can I wish ray foe, 
 Than his full draught of pleasure, from a ca^-k r>70 
 
 Unbroach'd by just authority, ungauged 
 By temperance, by reason unrefined ? 
 A thousand demons lurk within the lee. 
 
VIRTUE'S APOLOGY. 189 
 
 Heav'n, others, and ourselves ! Uninjured these, 
 Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more divine : 675 
 Angels are angels from indulgence there ; 
 'Tis unrepenting pleasure makes a god. 
 
 Dost think thyself a god from other joys ? 
 A victim rather ! shortly sure to bleed. 
 The wrong must mourn : can Heav'n^s appointments fail T 
 Can man outwit Omnipotence ? strike out 681 
 
 A self-wrought happiness unmeant by Him 
 ^Vho made us, and the world we would enjoy? 
 Who forms an instrument, ordains from whence 
 Its dissonance, or harjnony, shall rise. 685 
 
 Hcav''n bid the soul this mortal frame inspire ; 
 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 : 'tis virtue"'s source ; 
 Xvlother of ev'ry worth, as that of joy. 
 Men of the world this doctrine ill digest : 
 They smile at piety ; j^et boast aloud 695 
 
 Good will to men ; nor know they strive to part 
 What nature joins ; and thus confute themselves. 
 With piety begins all good on earth ; 
 ■"Tis the first-born of rationality. 
 
 Conscience, her first law" broken, wounded lies ; 700 
 Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; 
 A feignM affection bounds her utmost pow'r. 
 Some we canH love, but for the Almighty''s sake : 
 A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man ; 
 Some sinister intent taints all he does ; 70r* 
 
 And in his kindest actions he's unkind. 
 
 On piety, humanity is built ; 
 And, on humanitj-, much happiness ; 
 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 whh'ls of passion, and the strokes of heart. 
 
190 THE COMPLAINT. JVwht VIII. 
 
 O' 
 
 A Deity believed, is joy begun ; 
 
 A Deity adored, is joy advanced ; 
 
 A Deity beloved, is joy matured. 715 
 
 Each branch of piety delight inspires ; 
 
 Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next, 
 
 O^er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides ; 
 
 Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy. 
 
 That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still ; 720 
 
 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 
 Unhaliow'd ground ; the muse, to win thine ear, 
 Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 730 
 
 Good conscience ! at the sound the world retires ; 
 Verse disaffects it, and Ijorenzo 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 ^j 
 
 Amid her fair ones, thou the fairest choose, ' 
 
 To chase thy gloom — ' Go, fix some weighty truth ; 
 Chain down some passion ; do some gen'rous good ; 
 Teach ignorance to see, or grief to smile ; 
 Correct thy friend ; befriend thy greatest foe ; 740 
 
 Or with warm heart, and confidence divine, 
 Spring up, and la}^ strong hold on Him who made thee.' 
 Thy gloom is scattered, sprightly spirits (low ; 
 Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung. 
 
 Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the dance, 745 i' 
 
 Loud mirth, mad laughter ? Wretched comforters I ^ 
 
 Physicians ! more than half of thy disease. 
 Laughter, though never censured yet as sin, 
 (Pardon a thought that only seems severe) 
 Is half-immoral : is it much indulged ? 7'i0 ' 
 
 By venting spleen, or dissipating thought. 
 
191 
 
 It shews a scorner, or it makes a fool ; 
 
 And sins, as hurting others, or ourselves. 
 
 'Tis 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 wo. 
 
 A man triumphant is a monstrous sight : 
 
 A man dejected is a sight as mean. 
 
 What cause for triumph, where such ills abound ? 760 
 
 What for dejection, where presides a Pow'r, 
 
 Who calPd us into being to be blest ? 
 
 So grieve, as conscious, grief may rise to joy : 
 
 So joy, as conscious, jo}' 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 thou laugh (but at thy own expense) 
 This counsel strange should I presume to give — 770 
 ' Retire, and read thy Bible, to be gay.' 
 There truths abound of sovereign aid to peace ; 
 \h ! do not prize them less, because inspired, 
 \s thou, and thine, are apt and proud to do. 
 
 ^not inspired, that pregnant page had stood, 775 
 
 t'ime's treasure, and the wonder of the wise ! 
 xhoxi think"'st, perhaps, thy soul alone at stake : 
 Alas ! — Should jnen 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. — 
 
 >ue joy in sunshine ne'er w^as found at first : 
 i.iey, first, themselves offend, who greatly please ; 785 
 id travail only gives us sound repose, 
 eav'n sells all pleasure ; effort is the price : 
 
 'he joys of conquest are the joys of man ; 
 
 ;nd glory the victorious laurel spreads 
 
 yer pleasure's pure, perpetual, placid stream. 790 
 
192 THE COMPLAINT. Ntuht VIII 
 
 O' 
 
 There is a time, when toil must be preferr'd, 
 Or joy, by mistimed 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 ; 795 
 From thought's full bent, and energy, the true ; 
 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, unbottomM 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 ? 
 Or ope the door to honest poverty ? 805 
 
 Or talk with thrcat'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 ; 
 Delight, pure, delicate, and durable ; 810 
 
 Delight, unshaken, masculine, divine ; 
 A constant, and a sound, but serious joy. 
 
 Is joy the daughter of severity ? 
 It is : — Yet far my doctrine from severe. 
 * Rejoice for ever :' It becomes a man ; 815 
 
 Exalts, and sets him nearer to the gods. 
 ' Rejoice for ever,' nature cries, ' rejoice;' 
 And drinks to man, in her nectareous cup, 
 Mix'd up of delicates for ev'ry sense ; 
 To the great Founder of the bounteous feast, 820 
 
 Dpitiks 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 i)0wl is not the best t'25 
 
 Mankind can boast. — *• A rational repast ; 
 i 'xertion, vigilance, a n}ind in arms ; 
 A military discipline oflhoiight, 
 To foil temptrttjon in the doubtful fijtld ; 
 
193 
 
 And ever-waking ardour for the right ;"* 830 
 
 ^Tis 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 aggrandized the smallest thing we do ! 
 
 Thus, nothing is insipid to the wise : 835 
 
 To thee, insipid all, but what is mad ; 
 
 Joys seasonM high, and tasting strong of guilt. 
 
 ' Mad ! (thou reply'st, with indignation fired) 
 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 I O raise her from the dead ! 
 Then, follow nature ; and resemble God. 
 
 When, spite of conscience, pleasure is pursued, 845 
 Man's nature is unnaturally pleased : 
 And what's unnatural, is painful too 
 At intervals, and must disgust 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 mixM 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 spared ? 
 The pains of mind surpass the pains of sense : 
 Ask, then, the gout, what torment is in guilt. 
 The joys of sense, to mental joys are mean : 860 
 
 Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul 
 On past, and future, forages for joy. 
 'Tis hers 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 ? 
 17 
 
194 THE COMPLAINT. Might VIIL 
 
 The man is dead, who for the body lives, 
 
 Lured, by the beating of his pulse, to list 870 
 
 With ev'ry lust that wars against fiis 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 bhnd. 885 
 
 For what is vice ? Self-love in a mistake : 
 A poor blind merchant buying joys too dear. 
 And virtue, what ? 'Tis 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 disguised 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 implored ; 895 
 And ev'ry thing preferr'd to what we are. 
 
 Yet this self-love Lorenzo makes his choice ; 
 And, in this choice triumphant, boasts of joy. 
 How is his want of happiness betray'd, 
 By disaifection to the present hour I 900 
 
 Imagination wanders far a-field. 
 The futui'e 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 roll 905 
 
 From cheat to cheat, impatient of a pause ; 
 What is it I — 'Tis the cradle of the soul. 
 
virtue's apology. 193 
 
 from instinct sent, to rock her in disease, 
 
 Which her physician, reason, will not cure. 
 
 A poor expedient I 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 of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 
 False pleasure from abroad her joys imports ; 925 
 
 Rich from within, and self-sustain'd, the true. 
 The true is fix'd, and solid as a rock ; 
 Slipp'ry the false, and tossing as the wave. 
 This, a wild wanderer on earth, like Cain ; 
 That, like the fabled, self-enamour'd boy,*= '930 
 
 Home-contemplation her supreme delight : 
 She dreads an interruption from without, 
 Smit with her own condition ; and the more 
 Intense she gazes, &lill it charms the more. 
 
 No man is happy till he thinks, on earth 936 
 
 There breathes not a more happy than himself: 
 Then envy dies, and love o'erflows on all ; 
 And love o'ertlowing makes an angel here. 
 Such angels all, entitled to repose 939 
 
 On Him who governs fate. Though tempest frowns, 
 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, 
 
 * jYarcissus, 
 
196 THE COMPLAINT. JVigllt VIII. 
 
 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 sequester'd scenes ; 
 While noise, and dissipation, comfort thee. 
 
 Were all men happy, revelling 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 rapturous exultation, swelling high ; 960 
 
 Which, like land-floods, impetuous pour a while, 
 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 ?^ 
 
 Vain are all sudden sallies of delight ; 965 
 
 Convulsions of a weak distempered 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 gained with ease, nor safely loved, if gained ? 
 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 ; 
 And other joys ask leave for their approach ; 
 Nor, unexamined, ever leave obtain. 980 
 
 Thou art all anarchy ; a mob of joys 
 
 * Gen. xxxviii- 12. 
 
virtue's apology. 197 
 
 Wage war, and perish in intestine broils : 
 
 Not the least promise of internal peace ! 
 
 No bosom comfort, or unborrowed bliss I 
 
 Thy thoughts are vagabonds ; all outward bound, 985 
 
 'Mid sands, and rocks, and storms, to cruise for pleasure ; 
 
 Ifgain'd, dear bought ; and better miss'd than gain'd. 
 
 Much pain must expiate, what much pain procured. 
 
 Fancy, and sense, from an infected shore. 
 
 Thy cargo bring ; and pestilence the prize. 990 
 
 Then, such thy thirst (insatiable thirst ! 
 
 By fond indulgence but inflamed the more !) 
 
 Fancy still cruises, when poor sense is tired. 
 
 Imagination is the Paphian shop. 
 Where feeble happiness, like Vulcan, lame, 99& 
 
 Bids foul ideas, in their dark recess. 
 And hot as hell (which kindled the black fires) 
 With wanton art, those fatal arrows form, 
 Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame. 
 Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there are, 
 On angel wing, descending from above, 1001 
 
 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, 
 To think in grandeur there is something great. 100$ 
 For works of curious art, and ancient fame, 
 Thy genius hungers elegantly pain'd ; 
 And foreign chmes must cater for thy taste. 
 Hence, what disaster ! — Though the price was paid. 
 That persecuting priest, the Turk of Rome, 1011 
 
 Whose foot (ye gods !) though cloven, must be kiss'd, 
 Detained thy dinner on the Latian shore ; 
 (Such is the fate of honest protestants !) 
 And poor magnificence is starved to death. 1015 
 
 Hence just resentment, indignation, ire t — 
 Be pacified : if outAvard things are great, 
 'Tis magnanimity great things to scorn ; 
 Pompous expenses, and parades august, 
 And courts, that insalubrious soil to peace. 1020 
 
 1 7^'^ 
 
198 THE COMPLAINT. A"*^^^ Fill. 
 
 True happiness ne'er enterM at an eye : 
 
 True happiness resides in things unseen. 
 
 No smiles of fortune ever blessM the bad, 
 
 Nor can lier frowns rob innocence of jo^-^s ; 
 
 That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor : 1025 
 
 So tell his holiness, and be revenged. 
 
 Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good^: 
 Our only contest, what deserves the name. * 
 
 Give pleasure's name to nought, but what has passM 
 Th' authentic seal of reason (which, like Yorke, 103.0 
 Demurs on what it passes) and defies 
 The tooth of time ; when past, a pleasure still ; 
 Dearer on trial, lovelier for its age. 
 And doubly to be prized, as it promotes 
 Our future, while it forms our present, joy. 1035 
 
 Some joys the future overcast ; and some 
 Throw all their beams that way, and gild the tomb. 
 Some joys endear eternity ; some give 
 AbhorrM annihilation dreadful charms. 
 Are rival joys contending for thy choice ? 104(J 
 
 Consult thy v/hole 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 ov/n, 
 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. 
 Fired at the prospect of unclouded bliss, 1055 
 
 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 dsLwn of our eternal day. 
 
VlilTUE'S APOLOGY. 199 
 
 * This (says Lorenzo) is a fair harangue : 1060 
 
 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 ?' 1004 
 
 Themselves men make their comment on mankind ; 
 And think nought is, but what they find at home : 
 Thus weakness to chimera turn^ the truth. 
 Nothing romantic has the muse prescribed. 
 * 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 : 1075 
 Observe his awful portrait, and admire ; 
 Nor stop at wonder : imitate and live. 
 
 Some angel ruide my pencil, while I draw, 
 What nothing less than angel can exceed, 1080 
 
 A m.an on earth devoted to the skies ; 
 Ijike ships in sea, while in, above the world. 
 
 With aspect mild and elevated eye. 
 Behold hiiu seated on a mount serene, 
 Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; 1085 
 
 All the black cares, and tumults, of this life 
 (Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet) 
 Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
 Earth's genuine sons, the scepter'd, and the slave, 
 A mingled mob ! a wand'ring herd ! he sees, 109Q 
 
 Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike I 
 His full reverse in all ! What higher praise ? 
 What stronger demonstration of the right ? 
 
 The present all their care ; the future, his. 
 When public welfare calls, or private want, 1095 
 
 They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
 
 * In a former Ni§ht. 
 
200 THE COMPLAINT. Nwht Fill. 
 
 a 
 
 Their virtues varnisli nature ; his exalt. 
 
 Mankind's esteem they court ; and he, his own. 
 
 Theirs, the wild chase of false felicities ; 
 
 His, the composed possession of the true. 1100 
 
 Alike throughout is his consistent piece, 
 
 All of one colour, and an even thread ; 
 
 While party-coloured shreds of happiness, 
 
 "With hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
 
 A madman's robe ; each pulf of fortune blows 1105 
 
 The tatters by, and shews their nakedness. 
 
 He sees Avith other eyes than theirs : where they 
 Behold a sun, he spies a Deity : 
 What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
 Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees: 1110 
 An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
 They things terrestrial worship, as divine ; 
 His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust, 
 That dims his sight, and shortens his survey, 
 Which longs, in inlinite, to lose all bound. 1115 
 
 Titles and honours (if they prove his fate) 
 He laj's aside to find his dignity : 
 No dignity they find in aught besides. 
 They triumph in externals (which conceal 
 Man's real glory) proud of an eclipse. 1120 
 
 Himself too mucJi 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 ; 
 Their int'rest, 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 ; 1130 
 
 A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 
 With nakedness his innocence agrees ; 
 While their broad foliage testifies tlieir fall. 
 Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins ; 
 His joys create, theirs murder, future bliss. 113.5 
 
virtue's apology. 201 
 
 To triumph in existence, his alone ; 
 
 And his alone, triumphantly to think 
 
 His true existence is not yet begun. 
 
 Hi» glorious course was, yesterday, complete : 
 
 Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is sweet. 1140 
 
 But nothing charms Lorenzo, like the firm 
 Undaunted breast — And whose is that high praise ? 
 They yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, 
 And shew no fortitude, but in the field : 
 If there they shew it, 'tis for glory shewn ; 1145 
 
 Nor will that cordial always man their hearts, 
 A cordial his sustains, that cannot fail : 
 By pleasure unsubdued, unbroke by pain, 
 He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts ; 
 All-bearing, all-attempting, till he falls; 1150 
 
 And when he falls, writes VICI on his shield : 
 From magnanimity, all fear above ; 
 From noble recompense, above applause ; 
 Which owes to man\« short out-look all its charms. 
 
 Backward to credit what he never felt, 1155 
 
 Lorenzo cries — ^ Where shines this miracle ? 
 From what root rises this immortal man ?' 
 A root that grows not in Lorenzo's ground ; 
 The root dissect, nor wonder at the flow'r. 
 
 He folloAvs nature (not like thee I) and shews us 
 An uninverted system of a man. 1161 
 
 His appetite wears reason's golden chain, 
 And finds, in due restraint, its luxury. 
 His passion, like an eagle well reclaimed, 
 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 strang-er to despair. 
 And why ? — Because affection, more than meet, 
 His wisdom leaves not disengaged from heav'n. 1170 
 Those secondary goods that smile on earth, 
 He, loving in proportion, loves in peace. 
 They most the world enjoy, who least admire. 
 His understanding 'scapes the common cloud 
 
202 THE COMPLAINT. Night VllL 
 
 Of fumes, arising from a boiling breast. 1175 
 
 His head is clear, because his heart is cool, 
 
 By worldly competitions uninflamed. 
 
 The moderate movements of his soul admit 
 
 Distinct ideas, and matured debate. 
 
 An eye impartial, and an even scale; 1180 
 
 Whence judgment sound, and unrepenting choice. 
 
 Thus, in a double sense, the good are wise ; 
 
 On its own dunghill, wiser than the world. 
 
 What then, the world ? It must be doubly weak : 
 
 Strange truth ! as soon would they believe their creed. 
 
 Yet thus it is ; nor otherwise can be : 1186 
 
 So far from aught romantic what I sing. 
 Bliss has no being, virtue has no strength, 
 But from the prospect of immortal life. 
 Who 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. 1195 
 'Tis 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 tliem, that for a season shines. 1200 
 
 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 godlike man has nothing to conceal. 1205 
 
 His virtue constitutionally deep. 
 Has habit's firmness, and affection's flame : 
 Angels allied, descend to feed the fire ; 
 And death, which others slays, makes him a god. 
 
 And now, Lorenzo, bigot of this world ! 1210 
 
 Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by heav'n ! 
 Stand by thy scorn, and be reduced to nought : 
 For what art thou ■* — Thou boaster ! while thy glare, 
 
virtue's apology. 203 
 
 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. 1^20 
 
 From this thy just annihilation rise, 
 Lorenzo ! rise to something by reply. 
 The world, thy client, listens, and expects •, 
 And longs to crown thee v/ith 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 saj^ That mists above the mountains rise. 
 
 And, with a thousand pleasantries, amuse : 
 
 She'll sparkle, puzzle, flutter, raise a dust, 1230 
 
 And fly conviction, in the dust she raised. 
 
 Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste ! 
 'Tis 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 I wit abounds : 
 Passion can give it ; sometimes wine inspires 
 The lucky flash ; and madness rarely fails. 
 Whatever cause the spirit strongly stirs, 1240 
 
 Confers the bays, and rivals thy renown. 
 For thy renown, 'twere well, was this the worst ; 
 Chance often hits it ; and, to pique thee more. 
 See dullness, blund'ring on vivacities. 
 Shakes her sage head at the calamity, 1245 
 
 Which has exposed, and let her down to thee. 
 But wisdom, awful wisdom ! which inspects, 
 Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, 
 Seizes the right, and holds it to the last i 
 How rare .*• In senates, synods, sought in vuin ; 1250 
 Or if there found, 'tis sacred to the fen' : 
 While a lewd prostitute to muliitisrie.-. 
 
204 THE COMPLAIKT. Night VIIL 
 
 Frequent, as fatal, wit. In civil life. 
 
 Wit makes an enterpriser ; sense, a man. 
 
 Wit hates authority, commotion loves, 1255 
 
 And thinlcs 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 diamond, weighty, solid, sound : 
 
 When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam ; 
 
 Yet wit apart, it is a diamond still. 
 
 Wit widowM of good sense, is worse than nought ; 
 
 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 I 
 A joy in which our reason bears no part, 1270 
 
 Is but a sorrow, tickling, ere it stings. 
 Let not the cooings of th|e 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 : 
 She gives but little, nor that little, long. 
 There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse ; 
 A dance of spirits, a itiere froth of joy, 
 Our thoughtless agitation's idle child, 1280 i 
 
 That mantles high, that sparkles, and expires, 
 Leaving the soul more vapid than before ; 
 An animal ovation I such as holds 
 No commerce with our reason, but subsists 
 On juices, thro' the well-toned tubes, well strain'd ; ; 
 A nice machine ! scarce exev tuned aright ; 1286 '-j 
 
 And when it jars — thy Sirens sing no more. 
 Thy dance is done ; the demi-god is thrown I 
 
 (Short apotheosis!) beneath the man, '\ 
 
 In coward glooii: immersed, or fell despair. 120O j 
 
 Art thou yet dull enough despair to dread. I 
 
205 
 
 And startle at destruction ? If thou art. 
 
 Accept a buckler, take it to the field ; 
 
 (A field of battle is this mortal life !) , 
 
 When danger threatens, lay it on thy heart ; 1295 
 
 A single sentence proof against the world : 
 
 ' Soul, body, fortune ! 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.' 1300 
 
 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. 1305 
 
 And yet — Yet, what ? No news ! Mankind is mad I 
 Such mighty numbers list against the ri^ht, 
 (And what can't numbers when bewitch'd achieve I 
 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 : 
 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 ! gored 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 I aee the reeking blade. 1330 
 18 
 
206 THE COMPLAINT. JVight Fill. 
 
 Th' envenom'd phial, and the fatal ball ; 
 
 The strangling cord, and suffocating stream ; 
 
 The loathsome rottenness, and foul decays 
 
 From raging riot (slower suicides !) 
 
 And pride in these more execrable still ! 1335 
 
 How horrid all to thought ! — But horrors, these, 
 
 That vouch the truth ; and aid my feeble song. 
 
 From vice, sense, fancy, no man can be 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 frorn that, 
 Which makes man, man ; and exercised aright, 
 Will make him more : a bounteous-joy ! that gives 
 And promises ; that weaves, with art divine, 1345 
 
 The richest prospect into present peace : 
 A joy ambitious ! joy in common held 
 With thrones ethereal, and their greater far : 
 A joy high privileged from chance, time, death ! 
 A joy, which death shall double, judgment crown ! 
 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 I 
 
 Affects not this the sages of the world ? 
 Can nought affect them, but Avhat 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 numerous schemes, mislaid, 
 Or overlooked, or thrown ai^ido, if seen : 
 ' Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next, 
 Is the sole difference between wi^e and fool.' 
 
virtue's apology. 207 
 
 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 ; 1375 
 
 And puts the cause off to the longest day, 
 
 Planning evasions for the day of doom. 
 
 So far, at that re-hearing, from redress. 
 
 They then turn witnesses against themselves. 
 
 Hear that, Lorenzo ! nor be wise to-morrow : 1380 
 
 Haste, haste ! a man, by nature, is in haste ; 
 
 For who shall answer for another hour ? 
 
 'Tis highly prudent, to make one sure friend ; 
 
 And tliat thou canst not do, this side the skies. 
 
 Ye sons of earth ! (nor willing to be more !) 13&5 
 Since verse you think from priestcraft somewhat free, 
 Thus, in an age so gay, the muse plain truths 
 (Truths, which at church you might have heard in prose) 
 Has ventured into light ; well pleased the verse 
 Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ; 1390 
 
 And crown her with your welfare, not 3'our praise. 
 But praise she need not fear : I see my fate ; 
 And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulf. 
 Since many an ample volume, mighty tome. 
 Must die ; and die unwept ; O thou minute, 1395 
 
 Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; 
 Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth. 
 And die a double death. Mankind incensed, 
 Denies thee long to live : nor shalt thou rest, 
 When thou art dead : in Stygian shades arraign'd 1400 
 By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne ; 
 And bold blasphemer of his friend, — the World : 
 The 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 ?' Lorenzo cries. — Yes, all, 
 But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee ;) 
 '• The mother of true wisdom, is the will :"' 
 
208 TJSE COMPLAINT. JVight VIII 
 
 The noblest intellect, a fool without it. 
 
 World-wisdom much has done, and more may do, 
 
 In arts and sciences, in wars and peace ; 1411 
 
 But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee, 
 
 And "make thee twice a beggar at thy death. 
 
 This is the most indulgence can afford ; — 
 
 ' Thy wisdom all can do, but — make thee wise.' 1415 
 
 Nor think this censure is severe on thee : 
 
 Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. 
 
THE CONSOLATION 
 
 NIGHT IX. 
 
 ■000- 
 
 Containing, among other things, 
 
 i. A MORAL SURVEY OF THE NOCTURNAI- 
 HEAVENS. 
 
 2. A NIGHT-ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 Inscribed to the Duke of Newcastle. 
 
 Fatis contraria Fata rependens. Virg. 
 
 000 
 
 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 a while, his laboxir lost ; 
 Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords, 5 
 
 And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, 
 Till the due season calls him to repose : 
 Thus I, long travell'd in the ways of men, 
 And dancino-, with the rest, the giddy maze, 
 Where disappointment smiles at hope's career ; 10 
 
 Warn'd by the languor of life's ev'ning ray, 
 At length have housed me in an humble shed ; 
 W^here, future wand'ring banish'd from my thought, 
 And waiting, patient, the sweet hour of rest, 
 1 chase the moments with a serious song. 15 
 
 18* 
 
210 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 Song sooths our pains ; and age has pains to sooth. 
 
 When age, care, crime, and Iriends, 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, waked by Raphael's golden lyre, 
 Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow, cease ; 
 To bear a part in everlasting lays ; 
 Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 25 
 
 Symphonious to this humble prelude here. 
 
 Has not the muse asserted pleasures pure, 
 Like those above, exploding other joys ? 
 Weigh what was urg'd, Lorenzo ! fairly weigh ; 
 And teD me, hast thou cause to triumph still ? 30 
 
 I think thou wilt forbear a boast so bold. 
 But if, beneath the favour of mistake. 
 Thy smile's sincere ; not more sincere can be 
 Lorenzo's smile, than my compassion for him. 
 The sick in body call for aid ; the sick 35 
 
 In mind are covetous of more disease ; 
 And when at worst, they dream themselves quite well. 
 To know ourselves diseased, is half our cure. 
 When nature's blush by custom is wiped off. 
 And conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes, 40 
 
 Has into manners naturalized our crimes. 
 The curse of curses is, our curse to love ; 
 To triumph in the blackness of our guilt, 
 (As Indians glory in the deepest jet ;) 
 And throw aside our senses with our peace. 45 
 
 But, grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy ; 
 Grant joy and glory quite unsullied shone ; 
 Yet, still, it ill deserves Lorenzo's heart. 
 No joy, no ^lory, glitters in thy sight, 
 But, through the thin partition of an hour, 50 
 
 I see its sables wove by destiny ; 
 And that in sorrow buried ; this, in shame ; 
 While howling furies ring the doleful knell ; 
 And conscience, now so soft thou scarce canst hear 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 'Jlil 
 
 Her whisper, echoes her eternal peal. 65 
 
 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 1 Has death proclaimM 
 A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 60 
 
 'Tis brandished still ; nor shall the present year 
 Be more tenacious of her human leaf. 
 Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. 
 
 But needless monuments to wake the thought ; 
 Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality ; 65 
 
 Though in a style more florid, full as plain, 
 As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs. 
 What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths 
 Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint, or marble, 
 The well-stain'd canvass, or the featur'd stone ? 70 
 Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene : 
 Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. 
 
 ' Profest diversions ! cannot these escape ?' — 
 Far from it : These j^resent us with a shroud ; 
 And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. 75 
 
 As some bold plunderers, for buried wealth, 
 We ransack tombs for pastime ; from the dust 
 Call up the sleeping hero ; bid him tread 
 The scene for our amusement : how like gods 
 W^e sit ; and, wrapt in immortality, 80 
 
 Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die ; 
 Their fate deploring, to forget our own I 
 
 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 I 
 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 ; 
 
212 THE C0i\'50.LATIQI<r. jYtght IA\ 
 
 From human mould we reap our daily bread. 
 
 The globe around earth\s hollow surface shakes, 9b 
 
 And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. 
 
 O'er devastation we blind revels keep ; 
 
 While buried towns support tfie dancer's heel. 
 
 The moist of human frame tlie sun exhales ; 
 
 Winds scatter through the niighty void, the dry ; 100 
 
 Earth repossesses part of what she gave, 
 
 And the freed spirit mounts on wings of fire ; 
 
 Each element partakes our scatterM spoils ; 
 
 As nature, wide, our ruins spread : man's death 
 
 Inhabits all things, but the thought of man. 105 
 
 Nor man alone ; his breathing bust expires, 
 His tomb is mortal ; empires die. Where now. 
 The Roman ?, Greek ? They stalk, an enjpty name ! 
 Yet few regard them in this useful light ; 
 Thovigh half our learning is their epitaph. 110 
 
 When down tliy 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 I arts divine I 
 
 In wither'd laurels glide before my sight I 115 
 
 What lengths of far-famed ages, billow'd high 
 
 With human agitation, roll along 
 
 In unsubstantial images of air I 
 
 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 vt'isdom of the wise, and prancings of the great. 
 
 But, O Lorenzo ! far the rest above. 
 Of ghastl}^ 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 
 Reclined, she weeps her desolated realms, 130 
 
 * 2%e Deluge, referred to Genesis vii. 22. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. £13 
 
 And bloated sons ; and, weeping, prophesies 
 Another's dissolution, soon in flames. 
 But, like Cassandra, prophesies in vain ; 
 In vain, to many ; not, 1 tnjst, to thee. 
 
 For, know'st thou not, or art thou loath to know, 
 The great decree, the counsel of the skies ? 136 
 
 Deluge and confleigration, dreadful po-»v'rs ! 
 Prime ministers of vengeance ! ChainM 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 
 Kternal 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, 
 W^ith irresistible commission arm'd, 
 The world, in vain corrected, to destroy, 150 
 
 And ease creation of the shocking scene. 
 
 Seest thou, Lorenzo I what depends on man ? 
 The fate of nature ; as for man her birth. 
 Karth's actors change earth's transitory scenes, 
 And make creation groan with human guilt. 155 
 
 How must it groan in a new deluge whelm'd. 
 But not of waters ! At the destined hour, 
 B}^ the loud trumpet summoned to the charge. 
 See, all the formidable sons of fire. 
 Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play 160 
 Their vafious engines ; all at once disgorge 
 Their bhizing 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 ; 
 Stars rush ; and final ruin fiercely drives 
 Her ploughshare o'er creation ! — While aloft, 
 ^ore than astonishment ! if more ran be ! 
 
214 THE CONSOLATION, Night IX. 
 
 Far other firmament than e'er was seen, 170 
 
 Than e'er was thought by man ! Far other stars ! 
 
 Stars animate, that <';overn these of fire ; 
 
 Far other snn ! — A Sun, O how unlike 
 
 The Babe of Bethle'm ! How unhke the man 
 
 That groan'd on Calvary ! — Yet He it is ; 175 
 
 That man of sorrows ! O how changed ! 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, sweep stars and suns aside. 
 
 And now, all dross removed, heav'n's own pure day, 
 
 Full on the confines of our ether, flames : 
 
 While (dreadful contrast !) far, how far beneath ! 
 
 Hell bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, 185 
 
 And storms sulphureous ; her voracious jaws 
 
 Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. 
 
 Lorenzo ! welcome to this scene ; the last 
 In nature's course ; the first in wisdom's thought. 
 This strikes, if aught can strike thee ; this awakes 190 
 The most supine ; this snatches man from death. 
 Rouse, rouse, Lorenzo, then, and follow me. 
 Where truth, the most momentous man can hear, 
 Loud calls my soul, and ardour Avings 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^ 
 At midnight, 'tis presumed this pomp will burst 200 
 From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark 
 From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. 
 Man, starting from liis couch, shall sleep no more ! 
 The day is broke, which never more shall close ! 
 Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! 205 
 
 Terror and glory, join'd in their extremes ! 
 Our GOD in grandeur, and our world on fire ! 
 All nature struggling in the pangs of death ! 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 215 
 
 Dost thou not hear her ? Dost thou not deplore 
 
 Her strong convulsions, and her final groan ? 210 
 
 Where are we now ? Ah me ! the t;round is gone 
 
 On which we stood : Lorenzo ! While thou mayst, 
 
 Provide more firm support, or sink for ever ! 
 
 Where ? how ? from whence ? Vain hope ! It is too late J 
 
 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 ; His here ; it is begun ; — 
 Already is begun the grand assize. 
 In thee, in all. Deputed conscience scales 
 The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom : 
 Forestalls ; and by forestalling proves it sure. 230 
 
 Why on himself should man void judgment pass ? 
 Is idle nature laughing at her sons ? 
 Who conscience sent, her sentence will support ; 
 And GOD above assert that God in man. 
 
 Thrice happy they I that enter now the court 235 
 Heav'n opens in their bosoms. But, how rare, 
 Ah me ! that magnanimity, how rare ! 
 What hero, like the man who stands himself; 
 Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
 Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 240 
 
 Resolved to silence future murmurs there ? 
 The coward flies ; and, flying, is undone. 
 (Art thou a coward ? No.) The coward flies ; 
 Thinks, but thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know ; 
 Asks, ' What is truth ?' Avith Pilate ; and retires ; 245 
 Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng : 
 Asylum sad ! from reason, hope, and heav'n 1 
 
216 THE CONSOLATION. JVigJit IX, 
 
 Shall all, but man, look out with ardent ej-e, 
 For that great day, which was ordainM for man ? 
 
 day of consummation ! Mark supreme 250 
 (If men are wise) of human thought ! nor least, 
 
 Or in the sight of angels, or their King I 
 
 Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height, 
 
 Order o'er order, rising, blaze o'er blaze, 
 
 As in a theatre, surround this scene, 255 
 
 Intent on man, and anxious for his fate. 
 
 Angels look out for thee ; for thee, their Lord, 
 
 To vindicate his glory ; and for thee. 
 
 Creation universal calls aloud. 
 
 To disinvolve the moral world, and give 260 
 
 To nature's renovation brighter charms. 
 
 Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate. 
 Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought ? 
 
 1 think of nothing else ; I see I I feel it ! 
 
 All nature, like an earthquake, trembling round ! 265 
 
 All deities, like summer swarms, on wing I 
 
 All basking in the full meridian blaze ! 
 
 I see the Judge enthroned I the flaming guard I 
 
 The volume open'd ! open'd ev'ry heart ! 
 
 A sun-beam pointing out each secret thought I 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 ; 
 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 whoih he dreads ; 
 And deems it the first moment of his fall. 
 
 'Tis present to my thought ! — and yet, where is it ? 
 Angels can't tell me ; angels cannot guess 
 The period ; from created beings lock'd 285 
 
 In darkness. Bat the process, and the place, 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 217 
 
 Are less obscure ; for these may man inquire. 
 
 Say, thou ^reat close of human hopes and fears ! 
 
 Great key of hearts ! Great rinisher of fates I 
 
 Great end ! and j^reat beginning ! Say, where art thou ? 
 
 Art thou in time, or in eternity ? 291 
 
 Nor in eternity, nor time, 1 find thee. 
 
 These, as two monarchs, on their borders meet, 
 
 (Monarchs of all elapsed, or unarrived !) 
 
 As in debate, how best their powers allied 295 
 
 May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath 
 
 Of Him whom both their monarchies obey. 
 
 Time, this vast fabric for him built (and doomM 
 With him to fall) now bursting o'er his head ; 
 His lamp, the sun, extinguishM ; 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 ! 
 Roused 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 deposed disdains to live) 
 He falls on his own sithe ; nor falls alone ; 
 His greatest foe falls with him : Time, and he 
 Who murder'd all time's oifspring. 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 I 
 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, 
 ironorous as immortal breath can blow, 325 
 
 19 
 
218 THE CONSOLATION. JS^ght IX. 
 
 Pour forth their myriads, potentates, and powVs, 
 
 Of light, of darkness ; in a middle field, 
 
 Wide as creation ! populous, as wide ! 
 
 A neutral region ! there to niark 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 ; 
 
 Ages, as yet unnumber'd, but by God ; 
 
 V/ho, now, pronouncing sentence, vindicates 
 
 The rights of virtue, and his own renown. 335 
 
 Eternity, the various sentence past, 
 Assigns the severM throng distinct abodes, 
 Sulphureous, or ambrosial. What ensues ? 
 The deed predominant ! the deed of deeds .' 
 Whicli makes a hell of hell, a heav"'n of heav'n. 340 
 Tlie goddess, with determined aspect, turns 
 Her adamantine key's enormous size 
 Through destiny's inextricaWe wards, 
 Deep driving evVy 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 I 
 JVor strange ! when deities their voice exalt ; 
 And louder far, than when creation rose, 355 
 
 To see creation's godlike aim, and end. 
 So Avell accomplish'd ! so divinely closed I 
 To see the mighty Dramatist's last act 
 (As meet) in glory rising o'er the rest. 
 No fancied god, a God indeed descends, 360 
 
 To solve all knots ; to strike the moral home ; 
 To tiu'ow full day on darkest scenes of time ; 
 To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. 
 Hence in one peal of loud eternal praise, 
 
THF. CONSOLATION. 219 
 
 The charmM spectators thunder their applause, 365 
 And the vast void beyond, applause resounds. 
 
 What then am I ? 
 
 Amidst applauding worlds, 
 And worlds celestial, is there ionnd on earth, 
 A peevish, dissonant, rebelHotis string, 370 
 
 Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains ? 
 Censure on thee, Lorenzo ! { suspend. 
 And turn it on myself : how greatly due I 
 All, all is right, by God ordainM or done ; 
 And who, but God, resumed the friends he gave ? 375 
 And have I been complaining, then, so long ? 
 Complaining of his favours, pain, and death ? 
 Who, without pain''s advice, would eVr be good ? 
 Who, without death, but would be good in vain ? 
 Pain is to save from pain ; all punishment, 380 
 
 To make for peace ; and death, to save from death ; 
 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'cl, 385 
 
 That planted Eden, and high-bloomM for man, 
 A fairer Eden, endless in the skies. 
 
 Heav'n gives us friends to bless the present scene ; 
 Resumes thera, to prepare us for the next. 
 All evils natural are moral goods ; 390 
 
 All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 
 None are unhappy : all have cause to smile, ' 
 
 But such as to themselves that ca\ise deny. 
 Our faults are at the bottom of our pain ; 
 Error, in act, or judgment, is the source 395 
 
 Of endless sighs. We sin, or we mistake. 
 And nature tax, when false opinion stings. 
 Let impious grief be banish'd, joy indulged ; 
 But chiefly then, when grief puts in her claim. 
 Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays ; 400 
 
 Oft lives in vanity, and dies in wo. 
 Joy amidst ills, corroborates, exalts ; 
 ■Tis joy, and conqnest ; joy, and virtue too. 
 
220 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 A noble fortitude in ills, delights 
 
 Heav''n, earth, our.selves ; 'tis duty, glory, peace. 403 
 
 Affliction is the good man's shining scene : 
 
 Prosperity conceals his brightest ray : 
 
 As night to stars, wo lustre gives to man. 
 
 Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm, 
 
 And virtue in calamities, admire. 410 
 
 The crown of manhood is a winter joy ; 
 
 An evergreen, that stands the northern blast, 
 
 And blossoms in the ris^our of our fate. 
 
 'Tis a prime part of happiness to know 
 How much unhappincss must prove our lot ; 415 
 
 A part which few possess ! Til pay life's tax, 
 "Without one rebel murmur, from this hour, , 
 Nor think it misery to be a man : 
 Who thinks it is, shall never be a god. 
 Some ills we wish for, when Ave wish to live. 420 
 
 What spoke proud passion ? — * ' Wish my being lost ?' 
 Presumptuous ! blasphemous ! absurd ! and false I 
 The triumph of my soul is, — That I am ; 
 And therefore that I may be — What ? Lorenzo I 
 Look iuM'ard, and look deep ; and deeper still : 425 
 TJnfathomably deep our treasure runs 
 In golden veins, through all eternity ! 
 Ages, and ages, and succeeding still 
 New ages, where this phantom of an hour, 
 Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repair, 430 
 ShaH wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, 
 And fly through infinite, and all unlock ; 
 And (if deserved) by Heav'n's redundant love, 
 Made half adorable itself, adore ; 
 
 And find, in adoration, endless joy ! 435 
 
 Where thou, not master of a moment here, 
 Frail as the tlow'r,.and fleeting as the gale, 
 Mayst boast a whole eternity, enrich'd 
 With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. 
 Since Adam fell, no mortal, uninspired, 440 
 
 * Referring to the First Night. 
 
THE CONSOLATJOlSr. 22\ 
 
 lias ever yet conceived, or ever shall, 
 
 How kind is God, how great (if good) is man. 
 
 No man too Iarg;ely from Heaven's love can hope, 
 
 If what is hoped he laboms to secure. 
 
 ills ? — there are none : All-gracious ! none from Thee ; 
 
 From man full many I Numerous i= the race 446 
 
 Of blackest ills and those immortal too, 
 
 Begot by madness on fair liberty ; 
 
 IIeav"'n's daughter, hell-debauch"'d I her hand alone 
 
 Unlocks destruction to the sons of men, 450 
 
 First barrM by Thine ; high wall'd with adamant. 
 
 Guarded with terrors reaching to this Avorld, 
 
 And coverM with the thunders of Thy law ; 
 
 Whojse threats are mercies ; whose injunction?, guides, 
 
 Assisting, not restraining, reason's choice ; 455 
 
 Whose sanctions, unavoidable results 
 
 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 ; 460 
 
 Pleased to reward, as duty to his will, 
 
 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 ivhich to build our trust I 465 
 Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I lind ; 
 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, 470 
 
 Dares into judgment call her Judge. — Supreme I 
 For all 1 bless thee ; most, for the severe ; 
 * Her death — my own at hand — the fiery gulf, 
 That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent I 
 It thunders ; — but it thunders to preserve ; 475 
 
 It strengthens what it strikes ; its whol-'some dread 
 Averts the dreaded pain ; its hideous groans 
 
 * Lucia. 
 ID* 
 
222 TlIE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 Join heaT'n's sAveet hallciiijabs in thy praise, 
 
 Great Source of c:ood alone I How kind in all ! 
 
 In vengeance kind ! pain, death, Gehenna, save. 480 
 
 Thus, in thy ^vorld material, miglity Mind ! 
 Not that alone which solace?, and shines, 
 The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise. 
 The Avinter is as needful as the spring ; 
 The thunder as the sun ; a stagnate mass 485 
 
 Of vapours breeds a pestilential air: 
 Nor more propitious the Favonian breeze 
 To nature''s health, than purifying' storms. 
 The dread volcano ministers to good : 
 Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. 490 
 Loud iEtnas fulminate in love to man ; 
 Comets good omens are, when duly scannM ; 
 And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. 
 
 Man is responsible for ills received ; 
 7^hose we call wretched are a chosen band, 495 
 
 Compeird to refuge in the right, for peace. 
 Amid my list of blessings infinite, 
 Stand this the foremost, ' That my heart has bled.' 
 'Tis Heav'n"'s last effort of good will to man : 
 When pain can't bless, Heav'n quits us in despair. 500 
 Who fails to grieve, Avhcn just occasion calls. 
 Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest ; 
 Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart : 
 lleason absolves the grief, which reason ends. 
 May Heav'n ne'er trust my friend with happiness, 505 
 Till it has taught hijn how to bear it well, 
 By previous pain ; and made it safe to smile ! 
 Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain ; 
 Nor hazard their extinction, from excess. 
 My change of heart a change of style demands ; 510 
 The Consolation cancels the Complaint, 
 And makes a convert of my guilty song. 
 
 As when o'erlabour'd, and inclined to breathe, 
 A panting traveller, some rising ground, 
 Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round, 515 
 And measures -with his eve the various vales. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. £2o 
 
 The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has passM ; 
 And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, 
 EndearM by distance, nor affects more toil ; 
 Thus I, though small, indeed, is that ascent 520 
 
 The muse has gained, review the paths she trod ; 
 Various, extensive, beaten but by few ; 
 And, conscious of her prudence in repose, 
 tause ; and with pleasure meditate an end. 
 Though still remote ; so fruitful is my theme. 525 
 
 Through many a field of moral and divine. 
 The muse has stray'd ; and much of sorrow seen 
 In human ways ; and much of false and vain ; 
 Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss. 
 O'er friends deceased full heartily she Avept ; 530 
 
 Of love divine the wonders she displayed; 
 Proved man immortal ; showM the source of joy ; 
 The grand tribunal raised ; assign'd the bounds 
 Of human grief: in (ew^ to close the whole, 
 The moral muse has shadow'd out a sketch, 535 
 
 Though not in form, nor with a Raphael-stroke, 
 Of most our weakness needs believe or do, 
 In this our land of travel, and of hope. 
 For peace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 539 
 
 What then remains ? — Much ! much ! a mighty debt 
 To be discharged ; these thoughts ! O Night ! are thine ; 
 From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs, 
 While others slept. So Cynthia, (poets feign,) 
 In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her i-phere, 
 Her shepherd cheerM ; of her enamourM less, 545 
 
 Than I of thee. — And art thou still unsung, 
 Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing ? 
 Immoral silence ! — Where shall I begin ? 
 Where end ? Or how steal music from the spheres, 
 To sooth their goddess ? 550 
 
 O majestic Night ! 
 Nature's great ancestor ! Day's elder born I 
 And fated to survive the transient sun ! 
 By mortals and immortals seen with awe 1 
 A starry crown thy raren brow adorns, 555 
 
224 THE CONSOLATION. A''ight IX. 
 
 An azure zone, thy -vvaist ; clouds, in heav'n's loom 
 
 Wrought through varieties of shape and shade. 
 
 In ample folds of drapery divine, 
 
 Thy flowing mantle form ; and, heav'n throughout, 
 
 Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 560 
 
 Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august 
 
 Inspiring aspect !) claim a grateful verse ; 
 
 And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, 
 
 Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. 
 
 And what, O man ! so worthy to be sung ? 565 
 
 What more prepares us for the songs of heav'n ? 
 Creation, of archangels is the theme I 
 What, to be sung, so needful ? What so well 
 Celestial joys prepares us to sustain ? 
 The soul of man. His face design'd to see, 570 
 
 Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, 
 Has here a previous scene of objects great. 
 On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse 
 Of thought, to rise to that exalted height 
 Of admiration, to contract that awe, 575 
 
 And give her whole capacities that strength, 
 Which best may qualify for final ^oy. 
 The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, 
 The deeper draught shall they receive of heav'n. 
 
 Heav'n's King ! whose face unveil'd consumm,ates 
 bliss ; 580 
 
 Redundant bliss I which fills that mighty void. 
 The whole creation leaves in human hearts ! 
 Thou who didst touch the lip of Jesse's son,* 
 Tlapt in sweet contemplation of these fire?, 
 .\nd set his harp in concert with the spheres ! 585 
 
 While of ti)y works material the supreme 
 I dare attempt, assist my daring song : 
 Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the sun's 
 Contracted circle set my heart at large ; 
 I'liminate my spirit, give it range 590 
 
 Through provinces of thought yet unexplored : 
 
 * David., 1 Samud xvi, 18. f?4. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 225 
 
 Teach me, by this stupendous scafTolding;, 
 
 Creation's g^oJden steps, to chaib to Thee. 
 
 Teach me witl) art great nature to control, 
 
 And spread a histre o''er the shades of night. 695 
 
 Feel I thy kind assent ? and shall the sun 
 
 Be seen at midnight, rising in my song ? 
 
 Lorenzo ! come, and warm tliee : thou whose heart, 
 "Whose little heart, is moorM Avithin a nook 
 Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weig'h. 600 
 
 Another ocean calls, a nobler port ; 
 I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 
 Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main ; 
 Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; 
 And whence thou mayst import eternal wealth ; 605- 
 And leave to beggarVl minds the pearl and gold. 
 Thy travels dost thou boast o''er foreign realms ? 
 Thou stranger to the world ! thy tour begin ; 
 Thy tour through nature's universal orb. 
 Nature delineates her whole chart at large, 610 
 
 On soaring souls, that sail among the spheres ; 
 And man, how purblind, if unknown the whole ! 
 Who circles spacious earth, then travels here, 
 Shall own he never was from home before ! 
 Come, my *Prometheus, from thy pointed rock 615 
 Of false ambition, if unchain'd, we'll mount ; 
 We'll innocently steal celestial fire, 
 And kindle our devotion at the stars ; 
 A theft, that shall not chain, but set thee free. 
 
 Above our atmosphere's intestine wars, 620 
 
 Rain's fountain-Iiead, the magazine of hail ; 
 Above the northern nests of feather'd snows, 
 The brew of thunders, and the flaming forge 
 That forms the crooked lightning ; 'bove the caves 
 Where infant tempests wait their growing wings, 62o 
 And tune their tender voices to that roar, 
 Which soon, perhaps, shall shake a guilty world : 
 Above misconstrued omens of the skj, 
 
 * Mght the Eighth. 
 
^26 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 9 
 
 Far-travelPd comets' calculated blaze ; 
 
 Elance thy thought, and think of more than man. 630 
 
 Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither^, shrunk, 
 
 Blighted by blasts of earth's unwholesome air, 
 
 Will blossom here ; spread all her faculties 
 
 To these bright ardours ; ev'ry pow''r unfold, 
 
 And rise into sublimities of thought. 635 
 
 Stars teach, as well as shine. At nature's birth, 
 
 Thus their commission ran — ' Be kind to man.' 
 
 Where art thou, poor benighted traveller ! 
 
 The stars will light thee, tho' the moon should fail. 
 
 Where art thou, more benighted I more astray ! 640 
 
 In ways immoral ? The stars call thee back ; 
 
 And, if obey'd their counsel, set thee right. 
 
 This prospect vast, what is it ? — Weigh'd aright, 
 'Tis nature's system of divinity. 
 
 And ev'ry student of the night inspires. 645 
 
 'Tis elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand : 
 Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. 
 Lorenzo ! with my radius (the rich gift 
 Of thought nocturnal !) I'll point out to thee 
 Its various lessons ; some that may surprise 650 
 
 An un-adept in mysteries of night ; 
 Little, perhaps, expected in her school, 
 Nor thought to grow cm planet, or on star. 
 Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters, here we feign ; 
 Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here 655 
 Exists indeed ; — a lecture to mankind. 
 
 What read Ave here ? — Th' existence of a God :■ 
 Yes ; and of other beings, man above ; 
 Natives of ether I sons of higher climes ! 
 And, what may move Lorenzo's wonder more, 660 
 
 Eternity is written in the skies. 
 And whose eternity f Lorenzo, thine ; 
 Mankind's eternity. Nor faith alone ; 
 Virtue grows here : here springs the sov'rgign cure 
 Of almost ev'ry vice ; but chiefly thine ; 665 
 
 Wrath, pride, ambition, and impure desire. 
 
 Lorejjrzo ! thou canst wake at midnight too, 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 227 
 
 Thongli not on morals bent : ambition, pleasure ! 
 
 Those tyrants I for thee so lately fought,* 
 
 Afford their harassM slaves but slender rest. 670 
 
 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, 
 
 Commencing one of our antipodes ! 
 
 In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, 675 
 
 'Twixt stage and stage, of riot and cabal ; 
 
 And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift, 
 
 Tf bold to meet the face of injured Heaven) 
 
 To yonder stars : for other ends they shine. 
 
 Than to light travellers from shame to shame, 680 
 
 And thus, be made accomplices in guilt. 
 
 Why from yon arch, that infinite of space, 
 With infinite of lucid orbs replete. 
 Which set the living firmament on fire, 
 At the first glance, in such an overwhelm 685 
 
 Of wonderful, on mane's astonishM sight. 
 Rushes Omnipotence ? — To curb our pride ; 
 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, 69*0 
 
 And bind our chaste afiections to his throne. 
 Thus the three virtues, least alive on earth, 
 And welcomed on heav'n's coast with most applaus.e, 
 An humble, pure, and heav'nly-minded heart, 
 Are here inspired. — And canst thou gaze too long ? 69;i 
 
 Nor stands thy wrath deprived of its reproof, 
 Or unupbraided by this radiant choir. 
 The planets of each system represent 
 Kind neighbours : mutual amity prevails ; 
 Sweet interchange of rays, received, returned ; 700 
 
 Enlightening, and enlighten'd I All, at once, 
 Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 
 None sins against the welfare of the whole ; 
 But their reciprocal, unselfish aid, 
 
 *= mght the Eighth. 
 
/ 
 
 228 . THE CONSOLATION. JVighi IX. 
 
 Affords an emblem of millennial love. 705 
 
 Nothing in nature, muCh less conscious being, 
 
 Was e'er created solely for itself* 
 
 Thus man his sovereign duty learns in this 
 
 Material picture of benevolence. 
 
 And know, of all our supercilious race, 710 
 
 Thou most inflammable ! thou wasp of men ! 
 Man's angry heart, inspected, would be found 
 As rightly set, as are the starry spheres ; 
 'Tis nature's structure, broke by stubborn will, 
 Breeds all that uncelestial discord there. 715 
 
 Wilt thou not feel the bias nature gave ? 
 Canst thou descend from converse with the skies, 
 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 ; 720 
 And (kinder still !) our intellectual night. 
 
 And see, Day's amiable sister sends 
 Her invitation, in the softest rays 
 Of mitigated lustre ; courts thy sight, 
 Which suffers from her tyrant-brother's blaze. 725 
 
 Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies, 
 Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 
 With gain, and joy, she bribes thee to be wise. 
 Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe. 
 Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 730 
 And deep reception, in th' intender'd heart : 
 While light peeps through the darkness, like a spy ; 
 And darkness shows its grandeur by the light. 
 Nor is the profit greater than the joy. 
 If human hearts at glorious objects glow, 735 
 
 And admiration can inspire delight. 
 
 What speak I more, than I, this moment, feel ? 
 With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck, 
 (Stupor ordain'd to make her truly wise !) 
 Then into transport stariing- from her trance, 7-40 
 
 With love, and admiration, how she glov.'s I 
 This gorgeous apparatus ! this display I 
 This ostf ntrition of rrrative pow'i" i 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 229 
 
 This theatre ! — what eye can take it in ? 
 
 By what divine enchantment was it raised, 745 
 
 For minds of the first magnitude to launch 
 
 In endless speculation, and adore ? 
 
 One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine, 
 
 And light us deep into the Deity : 
 
 How boundless in magnificence and might ! 750 
 
 O what a confluence of ethereal fires, 
 
 From urns unnumberM, down the steep of heav'n, 
 
 Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! 
 
 Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart. 
 
 My heart, at once, it humbles and exalts ; 755 
 
 Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. 
 
 Who sees it unexalted, or unawed ? 
 
 Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen ? 
 
 Material offspring of Omnipotence ! 
 
 Inanimate, all-animating birth I 760 
 
 W'ork worthy Him who made it I worthy praise ! 
 
 All praise ! praise more than human ! nor denied 
 
 Tliy praise divine ! — But tho' man, drownM in sleep, 
 
 Withholds his homage, not alone I wake : 
 
 Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard 765 
 
 By mortal ear, the glorious Architect, 
 
 In this his universal temple, hung 
 
 W^ith lustres, with innumerable lights, 
 
 That shed religion on the soul ; at once 
 
 The temple and the preacher ! O how loud 770 
 
 It calls devotion I genuine growth of night I 
 
 Devotion ! daughter of astronomy ! 
 An undevout astronomer is mad. 
 True ; all things speak a God : bat in the small, 
 Men trace out Him ; in great. He seizes man ; 775 
 
 Seizes, and elevates, and wraps, and fills 
 With new inquiries, 'mid associates new. 
 Tell me, ye stars I ye planets I tell me, all 
 Ye starrM, and planeted, inhabitants ! What is it ? 
 What are these sons of wonder? Say, proud arch I 780 
 (Within whose azure palaces they dwell) 
 Built with divine ambition ! in disdain 
 20 
 
the; consolaticwv. Night IX. 
 
 Of limit built ! built in the taste of heaven ! 
 
 Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou designed 
 
 A meet apartment for the Deity ? — 785 
 
 Not so ; that thought alone thy state impairs, 
 
 Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound, 
 
 And straitens thy diffusive : dwarfs the whole, 
 
 And makes an universe an orrery. 
 
 But when I drop mine eye, and look on man, 790 
 Thy right regain'd, thy grandeur is restored, 
 O nature ! wide flies off th' expanding round. 
 As when whole magazines, at once, are fired, 
 The smitten air is hollowM by the blow ; 
 The vast displosion dissipate* the clouds ; 756 
 
 ShockM ether's billows dash the distant skies ; 
 Thus (but far more) th' expanding round flies off, 
 And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb, 
 Might teem with new creation ; re-inflamed, 
 Thy luminaries triumph, and assume 800 
 
 Divinity themselves. Nor was it strange. 
 Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp, 
 Such godlike glory, stole the style of gods, 
 From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense ; 
 For, sure, to sense, they tndy are divine, 805 
 
 And half absolved idolatry from guilt ; 
 Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 
 In those, who put forth all they had of man 
 Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher ; 
 But, weak of wing, on planets perch'd ; and thought 
 What was their highest, must be their adored. 811 
 
 But they how weak, who could no higher mount ! 
 And are tliere then, Lorenzo, those, to whom 
 Unseen and unexistent are the same ? 
 And if incomprehensible is join'd, 815 
 
 Who dare pronounce it madness to believe ? 
 Why has the mighty Builder thrown aside 
 All measure in his work ; stretch'd out his line 
 So far, and spread amazement o'er the Avhole ? 
 Then (as he took delight in wide extremes,) 8.20. 
 
 Deep in the bosom of his universe, 
 
THE CONSOLATION'. 231 
 
 Dropt down that reas'ning mite, that insect, man, 
 
 To crawl, and gaze, and wonder at the scene ? — 
 
 That man might ne''er presume to plead amazement 
 
 Fur disbelief of wonders in Himself. 82o 
 
 Shall God be less miraculous than what 
 
 His hand has form'd ? Shall mysteries descend 
 
 From unmysterious ? things more elevate, 
 
 Be more familiar ? uncreated lie 
 
 More obvious than created, to the grasp U30 
 
 Of human thought ? The more of wonderful 
 
 Is heard in Him, the more we should assent. 
 
 Could we conceive him, God he could not be ; 
 
 Or he not God, or iv-e could not be men. 
 
 A God alone can comprehend a God : 835 
 
 Man's distance how immense ! On such a theme, 
 
 Know this, Lorenzo ! (seem it ne'er so strange,) 
 
 Nothing can satisfy, but what confounds ; 
 
 Nothing, but what astonishes, is true. 
 
 The scene thou scest, attests the truth I sing^ ; 840 
 
 And ev'ry star sheds light upon thy creed. 
 
 These stars, this furniture, this cost of heav'n, 
 
 If but reported, thou hadst ne'er believed ; 
 
 But thine eye tells thee, the romance is true. 
 
 The grand of nature is th' Almighty's oath, 844 
 
 in reason's court, to silence unbelief. 
 
 How my mind, op'ning at this scene, irnbibeg 
 The moral emanations of the skies. 
 While noucht, perhaps, Lorenzo less admires I 
 Has the Great sov'reigu sent ten thousand worlds 830 
 To tell us, he resides above them all, 
 In glory's unapproachable recess ? 
 And dare earth's bold inhabitants deny 
 The sumptuous, the raagnific embassy 
 A moment's audience ? Turn we, nor will hear 85ii 
 From whom they come, or what they would impart 
 For man's emolument ; sole cause that stoops 
 Tlieir grandeur to man's eye ? Lorenzo I rouse ; 
 J^et thought, awaken'd, take the lightning's wing, 
 -'Vnd glance from east to west, from pole to pole. 8C0 
 
232 THE CONSOLATION. JYio:ht IX. 
 
 o 
 
 Who sees, but is confounded, or convinced ? 
 
 Renounces reason, or a God adores ? 
 
 Mankind was sent into the Avorld to see : 
 
 Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; 
 
 That obvious science asks small learning's aid. 865 
 
 Wouldst thou on metaphjsic pinions soar ? 
 
 Or wound thy patience amid lojsic thorns ? 
 
 Or travel history's enormous round ? 
 
 JVature no such hard task enjoins : she gave 
 
 A make to man directive of his thought ; 870 
 
 A make set upright, pointing to the stars. 
 
 As who should say, ' Read thy chief lesson there.' 
 
 Too late to read this manuscript of heav'n. 
 
 When, like a parchment scroll, shrunk up by flames. 
 
 It folds Lorenzo's lesson from his sight. 875 
 
 Lesson how various ! Not the God alone ; 
 I see his ministers ; I see, diffused 
 In radiant orders, essences sublime, 
 Of various offices, of various plume, 
 In heav'nly liveries, distinctly clad, 880 
 
 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. 
 And fly through nature, ere the moment ends ; 
 Numbers innumerable ! — Well conceived 885 
 
 By Pagan, and by Christian ! o'er each sphere 
 Presides an angel, to direct its course, 
 And feed, or fan, its flames ; or to discharge 
 Other high trusts unknoAvn. For who can see 
 Such pomp of matter, and imagine, mind, 890 
 
 For which alone inanimate was made, 
 More sparingly dispensed ? That nobler sonj 
 Far liker the great Sire ! 'Tis thus the skies 
 Inform us of superiors numberless, 
 As much, in excellence, above mankind, 895 
 
 As above earth, in magnitude, the spheres. 
 These, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us ; 
 In a throng'd theatre are all our deeds : 
 Perhaps, a thousand demigods desciend 
 
■JllC CdiN'SOI.ATlON. 235 
 
 v;:i <'v"iy be.uti we ?oe, to walk wilh ru( n. 900 
 
 Awful redection I strong resfraijit from ill I 
 
 Yet, here, our virtue finds still stronger aid 
 From these ethereal glories sense surveys. 
 Something like magic strikes from this blue vault. 
 "With just attention is it view'd ? We feel 905 
 
 A sudden succour, unimplored, unthouglit ; 
 Nature herself does half the Mork of man. 
 Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks, 
 The promcntorj^^s height, the depth profound 
 or subterranean, excavated grots, 910 
 
 Black-brovv'd, and vaulted liigh, and yawning wide 
 From nature\s strncture, or the scoop of time ; 
 If ample of diaiension, vast of size. 
 E'en these an aggrandizing impulse give ; 
 Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights 91a 
 
 E'en these infuse. — But wiiat of vast in these ? 
 Nothing ; — or we must own the skies forgot. 
 ?'>Iuch less in art. — Vain Art I thou pigmy pow'^r ! 
 How dost thou sM-ell and strut, with human pride, 
 To shov/ thy littleness I Wliat childish toys, 920 
 
 Th}' wat'ry columns squirted to tl^e clouds I 
 Thy basin^l rivers, and imprisonM seas I 
 Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ', 
 Thy hundred-gated capitals ! or those 
 Where three days travel left us much to ride ; 925- 
 
 Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought, 
 Arches triumphal, theatres immense. 
 Or nodding gardens pendent in mid air ! 
 Or temples proud to meet their gods half-way I 
 Yet these affect us in no common kind. 930 
 
 AVhat then the force of such superior scenes ? 
 Enter a temple, it will strike an awe : 
 What awe from this the Deity has built ! 
 A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives ; 
 The toucliM spectator wishes to be wise : 9.35 
 
 In a bright mirror his own hands have made, 
 Here we see, something like the face of God. 
 Seems it not ihen enough, to sa}', Lore'nzo. 
 
1234 THii: CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 To man abandori'd, ' I last thou seen the skies ?' 
 
 And yet, so thwarted nature's kind design 940 
 
 By daring man, he makes her sacred awe 
 (That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 
 To more than common guilt, and quite inverts 
 Celestial arfs intent. The trembling stars 
 See crimes gigantic, stalking through the gloom, 94i» 
 With front erect, that hide their head by day, 
 And making night still darker by their deeds. 
 Slumb'ring in covert, till the shades descend. 
 Rapine and murder, linkM, now prowl for prey. 
 The miser earths his treasures : and the thief, 950 
 
 Watching the mole, half beggars him ere morn. 
 Now plots, and foul conspiracies, awake ; 
 And, muffling up their horrors from the moon, 
 Plavock and devastation they prepare. 
 And kingdoms totfring in the field of blood. 955 
 
 Now sons of riot in mid revel rage. 
 What shall I do ? suppress it ? or proclaim ? — 
 Why sleeps the thunder ? Now, Lorenzo I now, 
 His best friend's couch the rank adulterer 
 Ascends secure ; and laughs at gods and men. 960 
 
 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. 
 Were moon and stars for villains only made ; 
 To guide, yet screen them, with tenebrious light ? 965 
 No ; they were made to fashion the sublime 
 Of human hearts, and wiser make the wise. 
 
 Ti)ose ends were answer'd once ; when mortals lived 
 Of stronger Aving, of aquiline ascent 
 In theory sublime. O liow unlike 970 
 
 Those vermin of the night, this moment sung. 
 Who crawl on earth, and on her venom feed ! 
 Those ancient sages, human stars ! They met 
 Their brothers of the skies, at midnight hour ; 
 Their counsel ask'd ; and, what they ask'd, obey'd. 
 The Stagirite, and Plato, lie M'ho drank 976 
 
 The poison'd bowl, and he of Tuscalum, 
 
TIIK CONSULATIOr^. L'ob 
 
 "With him of Corduba (immortal names I) 
 
 In these unbounded and Elysian walks, 
 
 An area fit for gods, and godlike men, 980 
 
 They took their nightly round, thro' radiant paths 
 
 By seraphs trod ; instructed, chiefly, thus, 
 
 To tread in their bright footsteps here belov/ ; 
 
 To walk in worth still brighter than the skies. 
 
 There they contracted their contempt of earth ; 9So 
 
 Of hopes eternal kindled, there, the fire ; 
 
 There, as in near approach, they glow'd, and grew 
 
 (Great visitants I) more intimate with God, 
 
 More worth to men, more joyous to themselves. 
 
 Through various virtues, they, with ardour, ran 990 
 
 The zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. 
 
 Tn Christian hearts, O for a pagan zeal ! 
 A needful, but opprobrious pray'r ! As much 
 Our ardour less, as greater is our light. 
 How raonstroris this in morals ! Scarce more strange 
 Would this phenomenon in nature strike, 996 
 
 A sun that froze us, or a star that wariuM. 
 
 What taught these heroes of the moral world ? 
 To these thou giv'st thy praise, give credit too. 
 These doctors ne'er were pensioned to deceive thee ; 
 And Pagan tutors are thy taste. — They taught, lOOi 
 That, narrow views betray no misery : 
 That, wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
 That, virtue rose from nature ; pondered well. 
 The single base of virtue built to heav'n : 1005 
 
 Tliat, God and nature our attention claim : 
 That, nature is the glass reflecting God, 
 As, by the sea, reflected is the sun, 
 Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere : 
 Tiiat, mind immortal loves immortal aims : 1010 
 
 That, boundlef=s mind affects a boundless space : 
 That, vast surveys, and the sublime of things. 
 The soul assimilate, and make her great : 
 That, therefore^ heav''n her glories, as a fund 
 Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 1013 
 
 Such are their doctrines ; s'uch the night inspired. 
 
236 THE CONSOLATION. J\''igki lA. 
 
 x\nd what more true ? What truth of greater weight ? 
 'f'he soul of man was made to walk the skies ; 
 Delightful outlet of her prison liere ! 
 There, disincuinberM from her chains, the ties 1020 
 Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
 There, freely can respire, dilate, extend, 
 In full proportion let loose all her pow'rs ; 
 And, undeluded, grasp at something great. 
 Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there ; 1025 
 
 But, M^onderful herself, tiirough wonder strays ; 
 Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own ; 
 Dives deep in their economy divine, 
 I'^its high in judgment on their various laws, 
 And, like a jnaster, judges not. amiss. 1030 
 
 Hence greatly pleased, and justly proud, the soul 
 Grows conscious other birtli celestial ; breathes 
 More life, more vigour, in her native air ; 
 And feels herself at liome among the star.s ; 
 And, feeling, emulates her country^s praise. 1035 
 
 ■ What call we, then, the firmament, Lorenzo ? — 
 As earth the body, since the skies sustain 
 The soul with food, that gives immortal life, 
 Call it. The noble pasture of the mind, 
 Whicli there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, 1040 
 And riots through the luxuries of thought. 
 Call it, The garden of the Deity, 
 BlossomM with stars, redundant in the growth 
 t)f fruit ambrosial ; moral fruit to man. 
 Call it, The breast-plate of the true High-priest, 1045 
 Ardent with gems oracular, that give. 
 In points of highest moment, right response ; 
 And ill neglected, if we prize our peace. 
 
 'J'hus, have we found a true astrology ; 
 Thus, have we found a new and noble sense lOoD 
 
 In which alone stars govern human fates. 
 O that the stars (as some have feign'd) let fall 
 Bloodshed, and havock, on embattled realms, 
 \nd rescued monarchs from so black a guilt ! 
 Bourbon ! this wish how gen'rous in a foe ! 1055 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 237 
 
 Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god, 
 
 And stick thy deathless name among the stars, 
 
 For mighty.' conquests on a needless point ? 
 
 Instead of forging chains for foreigners, 
 
 Bastile thy tutor. Grandeur all thy aim ? 1060 
 
 As yet thou knov/'st not what it is : how great, 
 
 How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, 
 
 When in it all the stars and planets roll I 
 
 And what it seems, it is : great objects make 
 
 Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge ; 1065 
 
 Those still more godlike, as these more divine. 
 
 And more divine than these, thou canst not see. 
 Dazzled, o^'erpower'd, with the delicious draught 
 Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel 
 From thought to thought, inebriate, without end ! 1070 
 An Eden, this ! a Paradise unlost ! 
 I meet the Deity in ev'ry view, 
 And tremble at my nakedness Ijefore him ! 
 O that I could but reach the tree of life I 
 For here it gi'ows, unguarded from our taste ; 1075 
 
 No darning sword denies our entrance here : 
 Would man but gather, he might live for ever. 
 
 Lorenzo, much of moral hast thou seen. 
 Of curious arts art thou more fond ? Then mark 
 The mathematic glories of the skies, 1080 
 
 In number, weight, and measure, all ordainM. 
 Lorenzo's boasied builders, chance, and fate, 
 Are left to finish his aerial tow'rs : 
 Wisdom and choice, their well-known characters 
 Here deep impress, and claim it for their own. 1085 
 Though splendid all, no splendour void of use: 
 Use rivals beauty ; art coitends with pow'r ; 
 No wanton waste, amid elfuse expense ; 
 The great Economist adjusting all 
 
 The prudent pomp, magnificently wise. 1090 
 
 How rich the prospect! and for ever new I 
 And newest to the man that views it most ; 
 For newer still in infinite succeeds. 
 Then, these aerial racers, O how swift I 
 
238 THE CONSOLATION. JVight IX. 
 
 How the shaft loiters from the strongest string ! 1095 
 Spirit alone can distance the career. 
 Orb above orb ascending without end ! 
 Circle in circle, without end, enclosed ! 
 Wheel within wheel ; Ezekiel, like to tliine !* 
 Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream ; llOd 
 
 Though seen, we labour to believe it true ! 
 What involution ! What extent ! What swarms 
 Of worlds, that laugh at earth I Immensely great ! 
 Immensely distant from each other's spheres ! 
 What, then, the wondrous space through which they 
 roll? 1105 
 
 At once it quite ingulfs all liuman thought ; 
 'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat. 
 
 Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here : 
 Through this illustrious chaos to the sight, 
 Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. 1110 
 
 The path prescribed, inviolably kept, 
 Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind. 
 VVorlds, ever thwarting, never interfere : 
 What knots are tied ! How soon are they dissolved, 
 And set the seeming married planets free I 1115 
 
 They rove for ever, without error rove ; 
 Confusion unconfused ! nor less admire 
 This tumult untumultuous ! all on wing 1 
 In motion, all ! yet what profound repose ! 
 What fervid action, yet no noise ! as awed 1120 
 
 To silence by the presence of their Lord ; 
 Or hush'd, by His command, in love to man, 
 And bid let fall soft beams on human rest, 
 Restless themselves. On yon cerulean plain, 
 In exultation to their God, and thine, 1125 
 
 They dance, they sing eternal jubilee, 
 Eternal celebration of His praise. 
 But, since their song arrives not at our ear, 
 Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight 
 Fair hievoglyphio of His peerless pow'r. 1130 
 
 "^ EzfMe}. X. 9. 10. 
 
T«E COKSOLATIOX. 239 
 
 Mark how the labyrinthian turns they take. 
 The circles intricate, and mystic maze, 
 Weave the grand cipher of Omnipotence ; 
 To gods, how great ! how legible to man ! 
 
 Leaves so much wonder greater wonder still r 1135 
 Where are the pillars that support the skies ? 
 What more than Atlantean shoulder props 
 Th' 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 Heaven. 1 141 
 
 Which fixes all ; makes adamant of air. 
 Or air of adamant ; makes all of nought. 
 Or nought of all ; if such the dread decree. 
 
 Imagine from their deep foundations torn 1145 
 
 The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad 
 And tow'ring Alps, all tost into the sea ; 
 And, light as down, or volatile as air, 
 Their bulks enormous, dancing on the waves. 
 In time and measure exquisite ; while all 1100 
 
 The winds, in emulation of the spheres, 
 Tune their sonorous instruments aloft, 
 The concert swell, and animate the ball. — 
 Would this appear amazing ? What, then, worlds, 
 In a far thinner element sustain''d, 115r» 
 
 And acting the same part, with greater skill, 
 More rapid movement, and for noblest ends ? 
 
 More obvious ends to pass, — are not these star^ 
 The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones. 
 On which angelic delegaten of heaven, 1160 
 
 At certain periods, as the SovVeign nods. 
 Discharge high trusts of vengeance, or of love ; 
 To clothe, in outward grandeiu-, grand design, 
 And acts most solcnui still mom solemnize : 
 
 Ye citizens of air I what ardfjjt thanks, 1 Ifij 
 
 What full eftusion of the grateful heart, 
 Is due from man, indulgedin such a si^dit I 
 A sight so noble I and a sight so kind I 
 t'f drop* nt»w fruth-s at cv'rv ncv/ snrvev ! 
 
240 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 Feels not Lorenzo something stir within, 1170 
 
 That sweeps away all period ? As these spheres 
 
 Measure duration, they no less inspire 
 
 The godlike hope of ages without end. 
 
 The boundless space, thro' which these rovers take 
 
 Their restless roam, suggests the sister thought 1175 
 
 Of boundless time. Thus, by kind nature's skill, 
 
 To man unlabour''d, that important guest, 
 
 Eternity, finds entrance at the sight : 
 
 And an eternity, for man ordain' d ; 
 
 Or these his destined midnight counsellors, 1180 
 
 The stars, had never whisper'd it to man. 
 
 Nature informs, but ne'er insults, her sons. 
 
 Could she then kindle the most ardent wish 
 
 To disappoint it ? — That is blasphemy. 
 
 Thus, of thy creed a second article, 1185 
 
 Momentous, as th' existence of a God, 
 
 Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought ; 
 
 And thou mayst read thy soul immortal, here. 
 
 Here, then, Lorenzo, on these glories dwell ; 
 Nor want the gilt, illumined roof, 1190* 
 
 That calls the wretched gay to dark deliglits. 
 Assemblies ! — this is one divinely bright ; 
 Here, unendangered in health, wealth, or fame, 
 Range, through the fairest, and the Sultan* scorn. 
 He, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair, 1195 
 
 As that, which on his turban awes a world ; 
 And thinks the moon is proud to copy him. 
 Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give, 
 A mind superior to the charms of pow'r. 
 Thou muffled in delusions of this life ! 1200 
 
 Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed, 
 From side to side, in constant ebb and floWy 
 And purify from stench his wat'ry realms? 
 And fails her moral influence ? Wants she pow'r 
 To turn Lorenzo's stubborn tide of thought 1205 
 
 From stagnating on earth's infected shore, 
 
 * The nnperor nf Tvrkey. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 241 
 
 And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart ? 
 
 Fails her attraction, when it draws to heav'n ? 
 
 Nay, and to what thou valuest more, earth's joy ? 
 
 Minds elevate, and panting for unseen, 1210 
 
 And defecate from sense, alone obtain 
 
 Full relish of existence undeflowerM, 
 
 The life of life, the zest of Avorldly bliss. 
 
 All else on earth amounts — to what ? To this : 
 
 *" Bad to be suffered ; blessings to be left :' 12 IS 
 
 Earth"* s richest inventory boasts no more. 
 
 Of higher scenes be then the call obeyM. 
 O let me gaze I — Of gazing there's no end. 
 O let me think ! — Thought too is wilder'd here ; 
 In mid-way flight imagination tires ; 1220 
 
 Yet soon reprunes her wing to soar anew. 
 Her point unable to forbear, or gain ; 
 So great the pleasure I so profound the plan ! 
 A banquet, this, where men and angels meet, 
 Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heav'n. 1225 
 How distant some of these nocturnal suns ! 
 So distant, (says the sage,*) 'twere not absurd 
 To doubt, if beams, set out at nature's birth, 
 Are yet arrived at this so foreign world ; 
 Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. 1230 
 
 An eye of awe and wonder let me roll. 
 And roll for ever : who can satiate sight 
 In such a scene ? in such an ocean wide 
 Of deep astonishment? where depth, height, breadth, 
 Are lost in their extremes ; and where, to count 1235 
 The thick-sown glories in this field of fire, 
 Perhaps a seraph's computation fails. 
 Now, go, ambition ! boast thy boundless might 
 In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain. 
 
 And yet Lorenzo calls for miracles, 1240 
 
 To give his tott'ring faith a solid base. 
 Why call for less than is already thine ? 
 Thou art no novice in theology ; 
 
 * Hugenins. 
 21 
 
242 ^rHE coNSOLATioiy. JVight IX. 
 
 "What is a miracle ! — 'Tis a reproach, 
 
 ■"Tis an implicit satire, on mankind ; 1245 
 
 And while it satisfies, it censures too. 
 
 To common sense, great nature's course proclaims 
 
 A Deity : when mankind falls asleep, 
 
 A miracle is sent, as an alarm ; 
 
 To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again, 1250 
 
 By recent argument, but not more strong. 
 
 Say, which imports more plenitude of pow'r. 
 
 Or nature's laws to fix, or to repeal ? 
 
 To make a sun, or stop his mid career r 
 
 To countermand his orders, and send back 125S 
 
 The flaming courier to the frighted east, 
 
 Warm'd, and astonish'd, at his evening ray ? 
 
 Or bid the moon, as with her journey tired. 
 
 In Ajalon's soft flow'ry vale repose ? 
 
 Great things are these ; still greater, to create. 1260 
 
 From Adam's bow'r look down thro' the whole train 
 
 Of miracles ; — resistless is their pow'r ; 
 
 They do not, cannot, more amaze the mind, 
 
 Than this, call'd unmiraculous survey, 
 
 If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen, 126& 
 
 If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed, 
 
 Sees nought but spangles here ; the fool, no more. 
 
 Say'st thou, ' The course of nature governs all ?' 
 
 The course of nature is the art of God. 
 
 The miracles thou call'st for, this attest ; 1270 
 
 For say, could nature nature's course control ? 
 
 But, miracles apart, who tees Him not, 
 ^Nature's controller, author, guide, and end ? 
 Who turns his eye on iiuture's midnight Aice, 
 But must inquire — ' Wiiat hand behind the scene, 1275 
 What arm almighty, put these wheeling globes 
 In motion, and wound up the vast machme? 
 Who rounded in his palm those spacious orbs? 
 Who bowl'd them fluining tln-o' the dark profound, 
 Nuin'rous as glitfring gefns of morning dtw, 1580 
 
 Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, 
 And set the bosom of old nltiht «n fire? 
 
i'HE CONSOLATION^ 243 
 
 Peopled her desert, and made horror smile ? 
 
 Or, if the military style delights thee, 12§4 
 
 (For star? have fought their battles, leagued with man) 
 
 • Who marshals this bright host ^ eni'ols their names ? 
 
 Appoints their post, their marches, and returns, 
 
 Punctual, at stated periods ? who disbands 
 
 These vet'ran troops, their final duty done, 
 
 If e'er disbanded ?' — He, whose potent word, 129.0 
 
 Like the loud trumpet, levied first their pow'rs 
 
 In night's inglorious empire, where they slept 
 
 In beds of darkness ; armM them with fierce flames, 
 
 Arranged, and disciplined, and clothed in gold ; 
 
 And call'd them out of ciiaos to the field, 1295 
 
 Where now they war with vice and unbelief. 
 
 O let us join this army ! Joining these, 
 
 Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour, 
 
 When brighter flames shall cut a darker night ; 
 
 When these strong demonstrations of a God 1300 
 
 8hall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, 
 
 And one eternal curtain cover all ! 
 
 Struck at that thought, as new awaked, I lift 
 A more enlightened eye, and read the stars. 
 To man still more propitious ; and their aid 1305 
 
 (Though guiltless of idolatry) implore. 
 Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 
 O ye dividers of m}"- time ! Ye bright 
 Accountants of my days, and months, and years. 
 In your fair calendar distinctly mark'd I 1310 
 
 Since that authentic, radiant register, 
 Tho' man inspects it not, stands good against him ; 
 Since you, and years, roll on, tho' man stands still ; 
 Teach me my days to number, and apply 
 My trembhng heart to wisdom ; now beyond 1315 
 
 All shadow of excuse for fooling on. 
 Age smooths our path to prudence ; sweeps aside 
 The snares, keen appetites, and passion, spread 
 To catch stray souls : and wo to that grey head. 
 Whose folly would undo what age has done ! 1320 
 
 Aid then, aid, all ye stars ! — Much rather, Then, 
 
244 THE CONSOLATION. JYight IX. 
 
 Great Artist I Thou, whose finger set aright 
 
 This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, 
 
 Though intervolved, exact ; and pointing out 
 
 Life's rapid and irrevocable flight, 1325 
 
 With such an index fair, as none can miss. 
 
 Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed. 
 
 Open mine eye, dread Deity ! to read 
 
 The tacit doctrine of thy works ; to see 
 
 Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass 1330 
 
 Of worldly wishes. Time ! Eternity ! 
 
 ('Tis these mismeasured, ruin all mankind) 
 
 Set them before me ; let me lay them both 
 
 In equal scale, and learn their various weight. 
 
 Let time appear a moment, as it is ; 1335 
 
 And let eternity ""s full orb, at once. 
 
 Turn on my soul, and strike it into heav'ii. 
 
 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 ? 1340 
 
 When, this vile, foreign dust, which smothers all 
 
 That travel earth's deep vale, shall I shake off? 
 
 When shall my soul her incarnation quit, 
 
 And, re-adopted to thy blest embrace, 
 
 Obtain her apotheosis in Thee ? 1345 
 
 Dost think, Lorenzo, this is wand'ring wide ? 
 No, 'tis directly striking at the mark : 
 To wake thy dead devotion, was my point ; 
 And how I bless night's consecrating shades, 
 Which to a temple turn an universe ; 1350 
 
 Fill us with great ideas, full of heav'n, 
 And antidote the pestilential earth ! 
 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 ! 1355 
 
 And what a God must dwell in such a fane I 
 O what a genius must inform the skies ! 
 And is Lorenzo's salamander-heart 
 Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires ? 
 O ye nocturnal sparks ! Ye glowing embers, 1360 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 245 
 
 On heav^n''s broad hearth I Avho burn, or burn no more, 
 
 Who blaze, or die, as great Jehovah''s breath 
 
 Or blows you, or forbears ; assist my song ; 
 
 Pour your whole influence ; exorcise his heart, 
 
 So long possessed ; and bring him back to man. 13Cr> 
 
 And is Lorenzo a demurrer still ? 
 Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
 Truths, which, contested, put thy parts to shame. 
 Nor shame they more Lorenzo's head than heart ; 
 A faithless heart, how despicably small I 1370 
 
 Too strait, aught great or generous to receive ! 
 Fill'd with an atom ! fiird~ and foulM with self I 
 And self mistaken ; self, that lasts an hour ! 
 Instincts, and j.assions, of the nobler kind, 
 Lie suffocated there ; or they alone, 1375 
 
 Reason apart, m ould wake high hope ; and open. 
 To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere, 
 Where order, wisdom, goodness, providence, 
 Tiieir endless miracles of love display, 
 And promise all the truly great desire. 1350 
 
 The mind that wouM be happy, must be great ; 
 Great, in its wishes ; great, in its surve3^s. 
 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 : 1386 
 
 Divine contemplate, and become divine. 
 
 As man was made for glory, and for bliss, 
 Ml littleness is an approach to wo : 
 Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide, 1390 
 
 And let in manhood ; let in happiness ; 
 Admit the boundless theatre of thought 
 From nothing, up to God ; Avhich makes a man. 
 Take God from nature, nothing great is left ; 
 Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees ; 1395 
 
 Man's heart is in a jakes, and loves the mire. 
 Emerge from thy profound ; erect thine eye ; 
 See thy distress ! How close art thou besieged ! 
 Besieged by nature, the proud sceptic's foe ! 
 21* 
 
'246 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 Enclosed by these innumerable worlds, 1400 
 
 Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind, 
 
 As in a golden net of Providence, 
 
 How art thou caught, sure captive of belief I 
 
 From this thy blest captivitj', what art. 
 
 What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free ! 1405 
 
 This scene is Heav'n's indulgent violence. 
 
 Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 
 
 What is earth, bosomM in these ambient orbs. 
 
 But, faith in God imposed, and pressM on man ? 
 
 Darst thou still litigate thy desp'rate cause, 1410 
 
 Spite of these numerous, awful witnesses. 
 
 And doubt the deposition of the skies ? 
 
 O how laborious is thy way to ruin ! 
 
 Laborious ? 'tis impracticable quite : 
 To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, 1415 
 
 With all his weight of wisdom, and of will, 
 And crime flagitious, I defy a fool. 
 Some wish they did ; but no man disbelieves. 
 God is a spirit ; spirit cannot strike 
 These gross, material organs : Go* by man 1420 
 
 As much is seen, as man a God can see. 
 In these astonishing exploits of power. 
 What order, beauty, motion, distance, size I 
 Conception of design, how exquisite ! 
 How complicate, in their divine police ! 1425 
 
 Apt means ! great ends ! consent to general good ! — 
 Each attribute of these material gods. 
 So long (and that with specious pleas) adored, 
 A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought ; 
 And leads in triumph the whole mind of man. 1430 
 
 Lorenzo, this may seem harangue to thee ; 
 Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our v;ill. 
 And dost thou, then, demand a simple proof 
 Of this great master-moral of the skies, 
 Unskiird, or disinclined, to read it there ! 1435 
 
 Since 'tis the basis, and alj drops without it. 
 Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. 
 Such proof insists on an attentive ear ; 
 
THE CONSOLATION. ii4f 
 
 'Twill not make one amid a mob of thought?, 
 
 And, for thy notice, struggle with the world. 1440 
 
 Retire ; — the world shut out ;— thy thoughts call home ; — 
 
 Imagination's airy wing repress ; 
 
 Lock up thy senses ; — let no passion stir ; — 
 
 Wake all to reason ; — let her reign alone ; — 
 
 Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth 1445 
 
 Of nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire, 
 
 As I have done ; and shall inquire no more. 
 
 In nature's channel, thus the questions run : 
 
 ' What am I ? and from whence ? — I nothing know, 
 But t^iat I am ; and, since I am, conclude 1450 
 
 Something eternal ! had there e'er been nought, 
 Nought still had been : eternal there must be. — 
 But what eternal ? — ^why not human race ? 
 And Adam's ancestors without an end ? — 
 That's hard to be conceived ; since every link 1455 
 Of that long chain'd succession is so frail : 
 Can every part depend, and not the whole ? 
 Yet grant it true ; new difficulties rise ; 
 I'm still quite out at sea ; nor see the shore. 
 Whence earth, and these bright orbs ? — eternal too ? 
 Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 1461 
 
 Would v/ant some other father ? — much design 
 Is seen in all their motions, all their makes : 
 Design implies intelligence, and art : 
 That can't be from themselves — or man ; that art 1465 
 Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ? 
 And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man. — 
 Wno, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
 Shot through vast masses of enormous weight ? 
 Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume 1470 
 
 Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 
 Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 
 Asserting its indisputable right 
 
 To dance, would form an universe of dust. 1474 
 
 Has matter none ? Then whence these glorious forms 
 And boundless flights, from shapeless, and reposed ? 
 Flas matter more than motion ? Has it thought, 
 
'M3 THE CONSOLATION. jYl^JU IX 
 
 o 
 
 Judgment, and genius ? Is it deeply learnM 
 
 In mathematics ? Has it framed such laws, 
 
 Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal ? — > 
 
 If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, 1481 
 
 Who think a clod inferior to a man I 
 
 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 ; 1486 
 
 That granted, all is solved. — But, granting that, 
 
 Draw I not o''er me a still darker cloud ? 
 
 Grant I not that which 1 can ne'er conceive ? 
 
 A being without origin, or end ! — 1490 
 
 Haih, human liberty I There is no God — 
 
 Yet, why ? On either scheme that knot subsists ; 
 
 Subsist it must, in God, or human race ; 
 
 If in the last, how many knots beside, 
 
 Indissoluble all ? — Why choose it there, 1495 
 
 Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand more ? 
 
 Reject it, where, that chosen, all the rest 
 
 Dispersed, leave rcason"'s whole horizon clear ? 
 
 This is not reason''s dictate : reason says, J499 
 
 Close with the side where one grain turns the scale. 
 
 What vast preponderance is here ! Can reason 
 
 With louder voice exclaim — Believe a God ? 
 
 And reason heard, is the sole mark of man. 
 
 What things impossible must iuan think true. 
 
 On any other system ! and, how strange 150.;> 
 
 To disbelieve, through mere credulity !' 
 
 If, in this chain, Lorenzo finds no flav/, 
 Let it for ever bind him to belief. 
 And wdiere the link, in which a flaw he finds ? 
 And, if a God there is, that God how great ! 1510 
 
 How great that PoAver, whose providential care 
 Through these briglit orbs'* dark centres darts a ray I 
 Of nature universal threads the whole ! 
 And hangs creation, like a precious gem, 
 Though little, on the footstool of his throne ! 1515 
 
 That little gem, how large ! A weight let fall 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 249 
 
 From a fixM star, in ages can it reach 
 
 This distant earth ? Say, then, Lorenzo ! where, 
 
 Where ends this mighty building ? Where begin 
 
 The suburbs of creation ? Where the wall, 1520 
 
 Whose battlements look o'er into the vale, 
 
 Of nonexistence ? Nothing's strange abode ! 
 
 Say, at what point of space Jehovah dropp'd 
 
 His slacken'd line, and laid his balance by ; 
 
 Weigh'd worlds, and measured inrinite, no more ? 152o 
 
 W^here rears his terminating pillar high 
 
 Its extramundane head ? and says, to gods, 
 
 In characters illustrious as the sun, 
 
 / stand^ the flail's proud period ; I pronounce 
 
 The work accomplish'^d ; the creation closed : 1530 
 
 Shout^ all ye gods ! nor shout^ ye gods alone ; 
 
 Of all that lives^ or, if devoid of life, 
 
 That rests, or rolls, ye heights, and depths, resound .' 
 
 Resound ! resound ! ye depths, and heights, resound ! 
 
 Hard are those questions ? Answer harder still. 1535 
 Is this the sole exploit, the single birth, 
 The solitary son, of Power Divine ? 
 Or has th' Almighty Father, with a breath, 
 Impregnated the Avomb of distant space ? 
 Has He not bid, in various provinces, 1540 
 
 Brother-creations the dark bowels burst 
 Of night primeval ; barren, now, no more ? 
 And He the central sun, transpiercing all 
 Those giant-generations, which disport. 
 And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray ; 1545 
 
 That ray withdrawn, benighted, or absorb'd, 
 In that abyss of horror, whence they sprung ; 
 While Chaos triumphs, repossess'd of all 
 Rival creation ravish'd from his throne ? 
 Chaos ! of nature both the womb, and grave ! 1550 
 
 Think'st thou my scheme, Lorenzo, spreads too wide ? 
 Is this extravagant ? — No ; this is just ; 
 Just, in conjecture, though 'twere false in fact. 
 
250 . THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 If 'tis an error, 'tis an error sprunaf 
 
 From noble root, high thought of the Most High. 1555 
 
 But wherefore error ? Who can prove it such ? — 
 
 He that can set Omnipotence a bound. 
 
 Can man conceive beyond what God can do ? 
 
 iS'othing, but quite impossible, is hard. 
 
 He summons into being, with like ease, 1560 
 
 A whole creation, and a single grain. 
 
 Speaks he the word ? a thousand worlds are born ! — 
 
 A thousand worlds ? there's space for millions more ; 
 
 And in what space can his great j^af fail ? 
 
 Condemn me not, cold critic ! but indulge 1565 
 
 The warm imagination : why condemn ? 
 
 Why not indulge such thoughts, as swell our hearts 
 
 With fuller admiration of that Power, 
 
 Who gives our hearts with such high thoughts to swell ? 
 
 W'hy not indulge in His augmented praise ? 1570 
 
 Darts not His glory a still brighter ray. 
 
 The less is left to Chaos, and the realms 
 
 Of hideous Night, where fancy strays aghast ; 
 
 And, though most talkative, makes no report ? 
 
 Still seems my thought enormous ? Think again ; — 
 Experience 'self shall aid thy lame belief. 1576 
 
 Glasses (that revelation to the sight !) 
 Have they not led us deep in the disclose 
 Of fine-spun nature, exquisitely small ; 
 And, thougU demonstrated, still ill conceived ? 1580 
 if, then, ou the reverse, the mind would mount 
 Jn magnitude, what mind can mount too far, 
 To keep the balance, and creation poise ? 
 X)efect alone can err on such a theme : 
 W'hat is too great, if we the Cause survey ? 1585 
 
 Stupendous Architect ! Thou, Thou art all ! 
 My soul flies up and down in thoughts of Thee, 
 And finds herself but at the centre still I 
 1 AM, thy name ! Existence, all thine own ! 
 Creation's nothing ; flatter'd much, if styled 1590 
 
 ' The thin, the fleeting atmosphere of God.' 
 
 O for the voice— of v/hat I of whom ? — What roice-- 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 251 
 
 Can answer to my want, in such ascent, 
 
 As dares to deem one universe too small ? 
 
 Tell me, Lorenzo ! (for now fancy glows, 1595 
 
 Fired in the vortex of Almighty Power) 
 
 Is not this home creation, in the map 
 
 Of universal nature, as a speck, 
 
 Like fair Britannia in our little ball ; 
 
 Exceeding fair, and glorious for its size, 1600 
 
 But, elsewhere, far outmeasiired, far outshone ? 
 
 In fancy (for the fact beyond us lies,) 
 
 Canst thou not figure it, an isle, almgst 
 
 Too small for notice, in the vast of being ; 
 
 Sever'd by mighty seas of unbuilt space ^60D 
 
 From other realms ; from ample continents 
 
 Of higher life, where nobler natives dwell : 
 
 Less northern, less remote from Deity, 
 
 Glowing beneath the line of the Supreme ; 
 
 Where souls in excellence make haste, put forth 1610 
 
 Luxuriant growths ; nor the late autumn Avait 
 
 Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods ? 
 
 Yet why drown fancy in such depths as these r 
 Return, presumptuous rover ! and confess 
 The bounds of man ; nor blame them, as too small. 
 Enjoy we not full scope in v.hat is seen ? 161G 
 
 Full ample the dominions of the sun ! 
 Full glorious to behold ! How far, hoAv wide, 
 The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, 
 Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, 1620 
 Farther, and faster, than a thought can fly. 
 And feeds his planets with eternal fires I 
 This Hehopolis, by greater far, 
 Than the proud tyrant of the Nile, Avas built ; 
 And He alone, who built it, can destroy. IG*?"? 
 
 Beyond this city, why strays human tliought ? 
 One wonderful, enough for man to knoAV I 
 One infinite enough for man to range I 
 One firmament, enough for man to read I 
 O what voluminous instruction here ! ff^if- 
 
 What r>age of wr^^dom /-- dcTiifd him ^ 'Sr\r\r : 
 
252 THE CONSOLATION. Nisht IX 
 
 Q' 
 
 If learning: his chief lesson makes him wise. 
 Nor is instruction, here, our only gain ; 
 There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, 
 Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 1635 
 How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
 With what authority it gives its charge, 
 Remonstrating great truths in style sublime, 
 Though silent, loud ! heard earth around ; above 
 The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell : 1640 
 
 Hell has her wonder, though too proud to praise. 
 Is earth, then, more infernal ? Has she those, 
 Who neither praise (Lorenzo !) nor admire ? 
 
 liorenzo's admiration, pre-engaged. 
 Ne'er ask'd the moon one question ; never held 1643 
 Least correspondence with a single star ; 
 Ne'er rear'd an altar to the queen of heaven 
 Walking in brightness ; or her train adored. 
 Their sublunary rivals have long since 
 Engrossed his whole devotion ; stars malign, 1650 
 
 Which made their fond astronomer run mad ; 
 Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart ; 
 Cause him to sacrifice his fame and peace 
 To momentary madness, call'd Delight : 
 Idolater, more gross than ever kissM 1655 
 
 The lifted hand to Luna, or pour'd out 
 The blood to Jove !— O THOU, to whom belongs 
 All sacrifice ! 6 thou Great Jove unfeignM ! 
 Divine Instructor ! thy first volume, this, 
 For man's perusal ; all in capitals ! 1660 
 
 In moon, and stars (heaven's golden alphabet I) 
 Emblazed to seize the sight ; who runs may read ; 
 ^Vho reads, can understand. 'Tis unconfined 
 To Christian land, or Jewry ; fairly writ, 
 In language universal, to mankind : 1665 
 
 A language, lofty to the learn'd ; yet plain 
 To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 
 Or, from its husk, strike out the bounding grain. 
 A language, worthy the Great Mind that spealcs ! 
 Prefiice, and comment, to the sacred page ! 1670 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 253 
 
 Which oft refers its reader to the skies, 
 
 As presupposing his first lesson there, 
 
 And Scripture 'self a fragment, tliat unread. 
 
 Stupendous book of wisdom, to ttie wise I 
 
 Stupendous book ! and openM, Nii;ht ! b}' thee. 1675 
 
 By thee much openM, I confess, O Ni:^ht I 
 Yet more I wish ; but how shall I prevail I 
 Say, gentle Night ? whose modest, maiden beams 
 Give us a new creation, and present 
 The world's great picture softenVl to the sight ; 1680 
 Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent stili, 
 Saj^, thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 
 Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
 Worlds beyond number ; worlds conceal'd by day. 
 Behind the proud and envious star of noon ! 168;' 
 
 Canst thou not draw a deeper scene ? — and shew 
 The mighty Potentate, to whom belong 
 These rich regalia, pompously displayed 
 To kindle that high hope ? Like him of Uz,* 
 I gaze around ; I search on every side — 1690 
 
 O for a glimpse of Him my soul adores ! 
 As the chased hart, amid the desert waste, 
 Pants for the living stream ; for Him who made her, 
 So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank 
 Of sublunary joys. Say, goddess ! where ? 1695 
 
 Where, blazes His bright court ? Where burns His 
 
 throne ? 
 Thou know'st ; for thou art near Him ; by thee, round 
 JHis grand pavilion, sacred fame reports 
 The sable curtain drawn. If not, can none 
 Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, 170Q 
 
 Who travel far, discover where He dwells ? 
 A star His dwelling pointed out below. t 
 Ye Pleiades ! Arcturus I JNIazzaroth ! 
 And thou, Orion I:j: of still keener eye ! 
 
 * Job. t Matthew^ ii. 2. 
 
 t JVumeft of the sevej'^l constellations in the heavens. 
 
;^5i THE CONSOLATION. .^\<rll{lA. 
 
 d" 
 
 . ly ye, "vvho guide the wlkler'd in the ivave.*, 1705 
 
 -\un brin;^ them out of tempest into port ! 
 
 On which hand must I bend my course to find Kim ? 
 
 Thene conrticr.s keep the secret of their King ; 
 
 1 wake whole nights, in vain, to steal it from them. 
 
 [ wake ; and, waking, climb Night's radiant scale, 
 j"'rom sphere to spliere ; the steps by nature set 1711 
 T^or mane's ascent ; at once to tempt, and aid ; 
 i'u 'i-inpt lus eye, and aid his towering thought; 
 Till it arrives at the great goal of all. 
 
 ill ardent contemplation\s rapid car, 1715 
 
 From earth, as from my barrier, I set out. 
 How swift 1 mount ! Diminish'd earth recedes ; 
 1 pass the moon ; and, from her farther side, 
 Pierce heaven''? blue curtain ; strike into reniote ; 
 TVhere, with his lifted tube, the sujjtiJe sage 1720 
 
 Jiis artificial, airy journey takes. 
 And to celestial lengthens human sight. 
 I pause at every planet on my road. 
 And ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll. 
 Their foreheads fair to shine. From Saturn's ring, 
 In which, of earths an army might be lost, 1726 
 
 ^>Vith the bold comet, take my bolder tlight, 
 Amid those sovereign glories of the skies. 
 Of independent, native lustre proud ; 
 Ti;e souls of systems! and tlie lords of life, 1730 
 
 T'nrough their Vv'ide empires ! — What behold I now ? 
 A wilderness of Avonders burning round ; 
 Wiiere larger suns inhabit higher spheres ; 
 Perhaps the villas of descending gods I 
 Nor halt I bere ; my toil is but begun ; 1735 
 
 'Tis but the -threshold of the Deity ; 
 '"")r, far beneath it, I am grovelling still. 
 2^ or is it strange ; I built on a mistake ! 
 The grandeur of his works, whence folly sought 
 For aid, io reason sets his glory higher; 1740 
 
 ''iVho built thus jiigii for worms (mere worms to Him ;) 
 O where, Ijorenzo I must tUc l)uilder dvi-ell ? 
 
 Fause, then ; and, for 'a moment, here respire — 
 
THE CONSOLATtOX. ^OO 
 
 If human thought can keep its station here, 
 
 Where am I ? — Where is earth ? — Naj, where art thou, 
 
 O sun? — Is the sun turnM recluse ? — And are 1746 
 
 His boasted expeditions short to mi ne ? — 
 
 To mine, how short ! On nature's Alps I stand, 
 
 And see a thousand firmaments beneath ! 
 
 A thousand s^^stemi, as a thousand grains I 1750 
 
 So much a stranger, and so late arrived, 
 
 How can man's curious spirit not inquire. 
 
 What are the natives of this world sublime, 
 
 Of this so foreign, unterrestrial sphere. 
 
 Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd ? 1755 
 
 ^ O ye, as distant from my little home, 
 As swiftest sun-beams in an age can tly ! 
 Far from my native element I roam, 
 In quest of new, and wonderful, to man. 
 What province this, of His immense domain, 17C0 
 
 Whom all obey ? Or mortals here, or gods ? 
 Ye bord'rers on the coast of bliss ! what are you ? 
 A colony from heav'n ? Or, only raised. 
 By frequent visit from heav'n's neighbouring realms, 
 To secondary gods, and half divine ? — 17G5 
 
 Whate'er your nature, this is past dispute. 
 Far other life you live, far other tongue 
 You talk, far other thought, perhaps, you think, 
 Than man. How various are the works of God I 
 But say. What thought ? Is reason here enthroned. 
 And absolute ? or sense in arms against her? 177! 
 
 Have you two lights ? Or need you no reveaiM ? 
 Enjoy your happy realms their golden age ? 
 And had your Eden an abstemious Eve ? 
 Our Eve's fair daughters prove their pedigree, 1775 
 And ask their Adams — ' Who would not be wise ?' 
 Or, if your mother fell, are you redeem'd ? 
 And if redeem'd — is your Redeemer scorn'd ? 
 Is this your linal residence ? If not, 1779 
 
 Change you your scene, translated ? or by death ? 
 And if by death, what death ? — Know you disease ? 
 Or horrid Avar? — With war, this fat^l hour, 
 
'256 THE COi\SOLATIOi\\ JS'iffht IX. 
 
 Q' 
 
 Europa groans (so call we a small field, 
 
 Where kings nm niad.) In our world, death deputes 
 
 Intemperance to do the work of age ; 1785 
 
 And, hanging up the quiver nature gave him, 
 
 As slow of execution, for despatch 
 
 Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay 
 
 Their sheep (the sillj sheep they fleeced before,) 
 
 And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. 1790 
 
 Sit all your executioners on thrones ? 
 
 With you, can rage for plunder make a god ? 
 
 And bloodshed Avash out ev'ry other stain? — 
 
 But 3"0u, perhaps, canH bleed : from matter gross 
 
 Your spirits clean, are delicately clad 1795 
 
 In fine-spun ether, privileged to soar. 
 
 Unloaded, uninfected ; how unlike 
 
 The lot of man ! How iew of human race 
 
 By their own mud unmurder'd ! How we wage 
 
 Self-war eternal ! — Is your painful day 1800 
 
 Of hardy conflict o'er? or, are you still 
 
 Raw candidates at school? And have you those 
 
 Who disaffect reversions, as with us ? — 
 
 But wliat are we ? You never heard of man ; 
 
 Or ei.rth ; the bedlam of the universe ! 1805 
 
 Where reason (nndiseased with you) runs mad, 
 
 And nurses Folly''s children as her own ; 
 
 J'ond of the foulest. In the sacred mount 
 
 Of holiness, where reason is pronounced 
 
 Infallible, and thunders, like a god ; ~ 1810 
 
 E'en there, by saints, the demons are outdone ; 
 
 What these think wrong, our saints refine to right ; 
 
 And kindly teach dull hell her own black arts : 
 
 Satan, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. — 
 
 But this, how strange to you, who know not man ! 
 
 Has the least rumour of our race arrived ? 1816 
 
 CallVl here Elijah, in his flaming car ?* 
 
 Past by you the good Enoch, t on his road 
 
 To those fair fields, whence Lucifer was hurPd ; 
 
 * 2 Kings ^ ii. 11. t Genesis, v. 24. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 2o i 
 
 Who brushM, perhaps, your sphere in his descent, 
 StainM your pure crystal ether, or let fall 1821 
 
 A short eclipse from his portentous shade ? 
 O, that that fiend had lodged on some broad orb 
 Athwart his way ; nor reachM his present home, 
 Then blacken'd earth with footsteps foulM in hell, 
 Nor washM in ocean, as from Rome he past 1826 
 
 To Britain's isle } too, too conspicuous there I' 
 
 But this is all digression. Where is He, 
 That o'er heav'n's battlements the felon hurl'd 
 To g^roans, and chains, and darkness ? Where is He, 
 Who sees creation's summit in a vale ? 1831 
 
 He, whom, while man is man, he can't but seek ; 
 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 ! 1835 
 
 Ye searching, ye Newtonian angels — tell, 
 Where your great Master's orb ? His planets where ? 
 Those conscious satellites, those morning stars, 
 First-born of Deity ! from central love. 
 By veneration most profound, thrown off; 1840 
 
 By sweet attraction, no less strongly drawn ; 
 Awed, and yet raptured ; raptured, yet serene ; 
 Past thought illustrious, but with borrow'd beams ; 
 In still approaching circles, still remote, 
 Revolving round the sun's eternal Sire ? 1845 
 
 Or sent, in lines direct, on embassies 
 To nations — in what latitude ? — Beyond 
 Terrestrial thought's horizon I — And on what 
 High errands sent ? — Here human effort ends ; 
 And leaves me still a stranger to His throne. 1850 
 
 Full well it might ! I quite mistook my road ; 
 Born in an age, more curious than devout ; 
 More fond to fix the place of heaven, or hell. 
 Than studious this to shun, or that secure. 
 'Tis not the curious, but the pious path, 1855 
 
 That leads me to my point : Lorenzo ! know, 
 Without or star, or angel, for their guide. 
 Who worship God, shall find him. Humble love* 
 
'250 THK CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 And not proud reason, keeps the door of heaven ; 
 
 Love finds admission, where proud science fail)?. I06O 
 
 Man's science is the culture of his heart ; 
 
 And not to lose his plummet in the depths 
 
 Of nature, or the more profound of God. 
 
 Either to know, is an attempt that sets 
 
 The wisest on a level with the fool. 1BG5 
 
 To fathom nature, (ill attempted here !) 
 
 Past doubt, is deep philosophy above ; 
 
 Higher degrees in bliss archangels take. 
 
 As deeper learnM ; the deepest, learning still. 
 
 For, what a thunder of Omnipotence 1870 
 
 (So might I dare to speak) is seen in all ! 
 
 In man ! in earth ! in more amazing skies I 
 
 Teaching this lesson, pride is loth to learn 
 
 ' Not deeply to discern, not much to know ; 
 
 Mankind was born (o wonder, and adore.' 187;j 
 
 And is there cause for higher wonder still. 
 Than that whicli struck us from our past surveys ? 
 Yes ; and for deeper adoration too. 
 From my late airy travel unconfined, 
 Have I ler-rnVl nothing? Yes, Lorenzo ; this : 1880 
 Each of these stai's is a religious house ; 
 I saw their altars smoke, their incense rise ; 
 And heard hosannas ring through every sphere, 
 A seminary fraught with future gods. 
 Nature, all o'er, is consecrated ground, 1885 
 
 Teeming with growths immortal, and divine. 
 The great Proprietor's all-bounteous hand 
 Leaves nothing waste ; but sows these fiery fields 
 With seeds of reason, which to virtues rise 
 Beneath his genial ray ; and, if escaped, 1890 
 
 The pestilential blasts of stubborn will. 
 When grown mature, are gather'd for the skie?. 
 And is devotion thought too much on earth, 
 When beings, so superior, homage boast. 
 And triumph in prostrations to the Throne ? 18195 
 
 Bttt wherefore more of planets, or of stars ? 
 Ethereal journeys, and, discover'd there, 
 
THE CONS0LAT40N. 250 
 
 Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, 
 
 All nature sending incense to the Throne, 
 
 Except the bold Lorenzos of our sphere ? 1900 
 
 Opening the solemn sources of my soul, 
 
 Since I have pour'd, like feign'd Eridanus, 
 
 My flowing numbers o'er the flaming skies, 
 
 Nor see, of fancy, or of fact, what more 
 
 Invites the muse here turn we, and review 1905 
 
 Our past nocturnal landscape wide : — then say. 
 
 Say, then, Lorenzo ! with what burst of heart, 
 
 The whole, at once, revolving in his thought, 
 
 Must man exclaim, adoring, and aghast ? 
 
 * O what a root I O what a branch, is here ! 1910 
 
 O what a Father ! what a family ! 
 
 Worlds ! systems ! and creations I — and creations, 
 
 In one agglomerated cluster, hung. 
 
 Great Vine I* on Thee, on Thee the cluster hangs ; 
 
 The filial cluster ! infinitely spread 1915 
 
 In glowing globes, with various being fraught ; 
 
 And drinks (nectareous draught !) immortal life. 
 
 Or, shall I say, (for who can say enough ?) 
 
 A constellation of ten thousand gems, 
 
 (And, O ! of what dimensions ! of what weight !) 1920 
 
 Set in one signet, flames on the right hand 
 
 Of Majesty Divine I the blazing seal. 
 
 That deeply stamps, on all-created mind, 
 
 Indelible, his sovereign attributes, 
 
 Omnipotence, and love I that, passing bound ; 1925 
 
 And this, surpassing that. Nor stop we here, 
 
 For want of power in God, but thought in man. 
 
 E'en this acknowledged, leaves us still in debt : 
 
 If greater aught, that greater all is thine, 
 
 Dread Sire ! — Accept this miniature of Thee ; 1930 
 
 And pardon an attempt from mortal thought, 
 
 In which archangels might have fail'd, unblamed.' 
 
 How such ideas of th' Almighty's power, 
 And such ideas of th' Almighty's plan, 
 
 * John^ XV. i-, ^ 
 
260 THE CONSOLATION. JVight IX. 
 
 (Ideas not absurd,) distend the thought 1935 
 
 Of feeble mortals ! Nor of them alone ! 
 The fulness of the Deity breaks forth 
 In inconceivables to men, and gods. 
 Think, then, O think ! nor ever drop the thought ; 
 How low must man descend, when gods adore ! 1940 
 Have I not, then, accomplished ray proud boast ? 
 Did I not tell thee, ^ We would mount, Lorenzo ! 
 And kindle our devotion at the stars ?' 
 
 And have I fail'd ? and did I flatter thee ? 
 And art all adamant ? And dost confute 1945 
 
 All urged, with one irrefragable smile ? 
 Lorenzo ! mirth how miserable here ? 
 Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear, 
 Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they : 
 Then thou, like them, shalt shine ; like them, shalt rise 
 From low to lofty ; from obscure to bright ; 1951 
 
 By due gradation, nature's sacred law. 
 The stars, from whence ? — Ask Chaos — he can tell. 
 These bright temptations to idolatry, 
 From darkness, and confusion, took their birth ; 1955 
 Sons of deformity ! from fluid dregs 
 Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude ; 
 And then, to spheres opaque ; then dimly shone ; 
 Then brighten'd ; then blazed out in perfect day. 
 Nature delights in progress ; in advance 1960 
 
 From worse to better : but, when minds ascend, 
 Progress, in part, depends upon themselves. 
 Heaven aids exertion ; greater makes the great ; 
 The voluntary little lessons more. 
 
 O be a man ! and thou shalt be a god ! 1965 
 
 And half self-made ! — Ambition how divine ! 
 
 O thou, ambitious of disgrace alone I 
 Still undevout ? unkindled ? — Though high taught, 
 Schooled by the skies, and pupil of the stars ; 
 Rank coward to the fashionable world ! 1970 
 
 Art thou ashamed to bend thy knee to Heaven ; 
 Cursed fume of pride, exhaled from deepest hell ! 
 Pride jn religion, is man's highest praise. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 261 
 
 Bent on destruction ! and in love with death I 
 
 Not all these luminaries, quenoh'd at once, 1975 
 
 Were lialf so sad, as one benighted mind, 
 
 Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
 
 How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night, 
 
 Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits I 
 
 How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 1980 
 
 Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene ! 
 
 A scene more sad sin makes the darkened soul, 
 
 All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive. 
 
 Though blind of heart, still open is thine eye : 
 Why such magnificence in all thou seest ? 198J3 
 
 Of matter's grandeur, know, one end is this, 
 To tell the rational, who gazes on it — 
 ' Though that immensely great, still greater he, 
 Whose breast capacious, can embrace, and lodge, 
 Unburdened, nature's universal scheme ; 1990 
 
 Can grasp creation with a single thought ; 
 Creation grasp ; and not exclude its Sire' — 
 To tell him farther — ' It behoves him much 
 To guard th' important, yet depending, fate 
 Of being, brighter than a thousand suns : 1995 
 
 One single ray of thought outshines them all.' 
 And if man hears obedient, soon he'll soar 
 Superior heights, and on his purple wing. 
 His purple wing bedropp'd with eyes of gold, 
 Rising, where thought is now denied to rise, 2000 
 
 Look down triumphant on these dazzling spheres. 
 
 Why then persist ? — No mortal ever lived, 
 But, dying, he pronounced (when words are true) 
 The whole that charms thee, absolutely vain ; 
 Vain, and far worse I — Think thou, with dying men ; 
 O condescend to think as angels think ! 2006 
 
 O tolerate a chance for happiness ! 
 Our nature such, ill choice ensures ill fate ; 
 And hell had been, though there had been no God. 
 Dost thou not know, my new astronomer I 2010 
 
 Earth, turning from the sun, brings night to man ? 
 Man, turning from his God, brings endless night ; 
 
^62 THE CONSOLATION. JVis:ht IX. 
 
 a' 
 
 Where thou canst read no morals, find no friend, 
 Amend no manners, and expect no peace. 2014 
 
 How deep the darkness I and the groan, how loud ! 
 And far, how far, from lambent are the flames I — 
 Such is Lorenzo's purchase ! such his praise 1 
 The proud, the politic Lorenzo's praise ! 
 Though in his ear, and levelPd at his heart, 
 Pve half read o'er the volume of the skies. 2020 
 
 For think not thou hast heard all this from me ; 
 My sottg but echoes what great nature speaks. 
 What Jias she spoken ? Thus the goddess spoke. 
 Thus speaks for ever : — ' Place at nature's head, 
 A Sovereign, which o'er all things I'olls his eye, 2025 
 Extends his wing, promulgates his commands, 
 But, above all, diffuses endless good : 
 To whom, for sure redress, the wrong'd may fly ; 
 The vile, for mercy ; and the pain'd, for peace : 
 By whom, the various tenants of these spheres, 2030 
 Diversified in fortunes, place, and powers, 
 Raised in enjoyment, as in worth they rise, 
 Arrive at length (if worthy such approach) 
 At that bless'd fountain-head, from which they stream ; 
 Where conflict past redoubles present joy ; 2035 
 
 And present joy looks forward on increase ; 
 And that, on more ; no period ! every step 
 A double boon ! a promise, and a blibs.' 
 How easy sits this scheme on human hearts ! 
 It suits their make ; it sooths their vast desires ; 2040 
 Passion is pleased, and reason asks no more ; 
 'Tis rational ! 'tis great ! — But what is thine ? 
 It darkens ! shocks ! excruciates ! and confounds I 
 Leaves us quite naked, both of help, and hope, 
 Sinking from bad to worse ; feAV years, the eport 2045 
 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. 
 How art thou hooted, where the least prevails I 2050 
 Is it my fault, if these truths call thee fool ? 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 26." 
 
 And thon sliall never be miscaird by roe. 
 
 Can neither shame, nor terror, stand thy friend ? 
 
 And art thou still an insect in the mire ? 
 
 How, like thy guardian angel, have I flown ; 205& 
 
 SnatchVl thee from earth ; escorted thee through all 
 
 Th' ethereal armies ; walk'd thee, like a god. 
 
 Through splendours of first magnitude, arranged 
 
 On either hand ; clouds thrown beneath thy feet ; 
 
 Close cruised on the bright paradise of God ; 2060 
 
 And almost introduced thee to the Throne ! 
 
 And art thou still carousing, for delight, 
 
 Rank poison ; first, fermenting to mere froth,. 
 
 And then subsiding into final gall? 
 
 To beings of sublime, immortal m alee, 2065 
 
 How shocking is all joy, whose end is sure ! 
 
 Such joy, more shocking still, the more it charms I 
 
 And dost thou choose what ends, ere well begun ; 
 
 And infamous, as short ? And dost thou choose 
 
 (Thou, to whose palate glory is so sweet) 2070 
 
 To M'ade into perdition, through contempt, 
 
 Not of poor bigots onl}^, but thy own ? 
 
 For I have peepM into thy coverM heart. 
 
 And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; 
 
 For, by strong guilfs most violent assault, 2075 
 
 Conscience is but disabled, not destroyed. 
 
 O thou most awful being, and most vain ! 
 Thy will, how frail I how glorious is thy power ! 
 Though dread eternity has sown her seeds 
 Of bliss, and wo, in thy despotic breast ; 2080 
 
 Though heaven, and hell, depend upon thy choice ; 
 A butterfly comes 'cross, and both are fled. 
 Is this the picture of a rational ? 
 This horrid image, shall it be most just ? 
 Lorenzo ! no : it cannot — shall not, be, 2085 
 
 If there is force in reason ; or, in sounds. 
 Chanted beneath the glimpses of the moon, 
 A magic, at this planetary hour, 
 When slumber locks the general lip, and dreams 
 Through senseless mazes, hunt souls uninspired.* 20Pd 
 
264 THE CONSOLATION. Night IX. 
 
 Attend — the sacred mysteries begin- 
 
 My solemn night-born adjuration hear ; 
 Hear, and I'll raise thy gpirit from the dust ; 
 While the stars gaze on this enchantment new ; 
 Enchantment, not infernal, but divine ! 2095 
 
 ' By Silence, death's peculiar attribute ; 
 By Darkness, guilt's inevitable doom ; 
 By Darkness, and by Silence, sisters dread ! 
 That draw the curtain round night's ebon throne, 
 And raise ideas, solemn as the scene ! 2100 
 
 By Night, and all of awful, night presents 
 To thought, or sense, (of awful much, to both. 
 The goddess brings I) By these her trembling fires, 
 Ivike Vesta's, ever burning ; and, like hers, 
 Sacred to thoughts immaculate, and pure ! 2105 
 
 By these bright orators, that prove, and praise, 
 And press thee to revere, the Deity ; 
 Perhaps, too, aid thee, when revered awhile, 
 To reach his throne ; as stages of the soul, 
 Through which, at different periods, she shall pass, 
 Refining gradual, for her final height, 2111 
 
 And purging off some dross at every sphere ! 
 By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world ! 
 By the world's kings, and kingdoms, most renown'd, 
 From short ambition's zenith set for ever ; 2115 
 
 Sad presage to vain boasters, now in bloom ! 
 By the long list of swift mortality, 
 From Adam downward to this evening knell, 
 Which midnight waves in fancy's startled eye ; 
 And shocks her with a hundred centuries, 2120 
 
 Round death's black banner thi'ong'd, in human thought ! 
 By thousands, now, resigning their last breath. 
 And calling thee — wert thou so wise to hear I 
 By tombs o'er tombs arising ; human earth 
 Ejected, to make room for — human earth ; 2125 
 
 The monarch's terror ! and the sexton's trade ! 
 By pompons obsequies, that shun the day. 
 The torch funereal, and the nodding plume, 
 Which makes poor raan'^; humiliation proud •. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 265 
 
 Boast of our ruin ! triumph of our dust ! 2130 
 
 By the damp vault that weeps o'er rojal bones ; 
 
 And the pale lamp, that shews the ghastly dead, 
 
 More ghastly through the thick incumbent gloom ! 
 
 By \isits (if there are) from darker scenes. 
 
 The gliding spectre ! and the groaning grave I 2lo'> 
 
 By groans, and graves, and miseries that groan 
 
 For the grave's shelter ! By desponding men, 
 
 Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of guilt I 
 
 By guilt's last audit ! By yon moon in blood, 
 
 The rocking firmament, the falling stars, 2140 
 
 And thunder's last discharge, great natui-e's knell ! 
 
 By second chaos ; and eternal night' — 
 
 Be wise — Nor let Philander blame my charm ; 
 
 But own not ill discharged my double debt, 
 
 Love to the living, duty to the dead. 2145 
 
 For know, I'm but executor ; he loft 
 This moral legacy ; I make it o'er 
 By his command : Philander hear in me, 
 And Heaven in both. — If deaf to these, oh ! hear 
 Florello's tender voice : his weal depends 2150 
 
 On thy resolve ; it trembles at thy choice : 
 For his sake — love thyself. Example strikes 
 All human hearts ! a bad example more ; 
 More still a father's ; that insures his ruin. 
 As parent of his being, wouldst thou prove 2155 
 
 Th' unnatural parent of his miseries, 
 And make him curse the being which thou gavest ? 
 Is this the blessing of so fond a father ? 
 If careless of Lorenzo, spare, oh ! spare 
 Florello's father, and Philander's friend ! 2160 
 
 Florello's father ruin'd, ruins him ; 
 And from Philander's friend the world expects 
 A conduct, no dishonor to the dead. 
 Let passion do, what nobler motives should ; 
 Let love, and emulation, rise in aid 216d 
 
 To reason ; and persuade thee to be — bless' d. 
 
 This seems not a request to be denied ; 
 Yet (such th' infatuation of mankind I) 
 
266 THE CONSOLATION. JViffht IX. 
 
 &' 
 
 ■'TIS the most hopeless, man can make to man. 
 
 Shall I, then, rise in argument, and warmth ; 2170 
 
 And urge Phi]ander"*s posthumous advice, 
 
 From topics yet unbroachM ? 
 
 But, oh ! I faint ! my spirits fail ! — Nor strange ! 
 
 So long on vving, and in no middle clime ! 
 
 To which my great Creator's glory calPd : 2175 
 
 And calls — but, now, in A^ain. Sleep's dewy wand 
 
 Has stroked my drooping lids, and promises 
 
 My long arrear of rest ; the downy god 
 
 (Wont to return with our returning peace) 
 
 Will pay, ere long, and bless me with repose. 2180 
 
 Haste, haste, sweet stranger ! from the peasant's cot, 
 
 The ship-boy's hammock, or the soldiers strav/, 
 
 Whence sorrow never chased thee : with thee bring. 
 
 Not hideous visions, as of late ! but draughts 
 
 Delicious of weJl-tasted, cordial, rest ; 218S 
 
 Man's rich restorative ; his baimy bath. 
 
 That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play. 
 
 The various njovements of this nice machine, 
 
 Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
 
 When tired with vain rotations of the day, 2190 
 
 Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
 
 Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, 
 
 Or death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. 
 
 When will it -end with me ? 
 
 ' Thou only know^st, 2195 
 
 Tho-n, 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, thougii invisible, for ever seen i 2201 
 
 And seen in all I the great, and the minute : 
 Each globe above, with its gigantic race. 
 Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'd, 
 (Those puny vouchers of Omnipotence !) 220& 
 
 To the first thought, that asks, ' From wheHce ?' declare 
 Their common Source. Thou Fountain, ruoBing o'ev 
 In rivers of communicated joy ! 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 ^67 
 
 Who gavest lis speech for far, far humbler themes I 
 Say, by what name shall I presume to call 2210 
 
 Hun I see burning in these countless suns, 
 As Moses, in the bush ?* illustrious Mind I 
 The whole creation, less, far less, to Thee, 
 Than that to the creation"'s ample round. 2214 
 
 How shall I name Thee ? — How my labouring soul 
 Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth 1 
 
 ' Great System of perfections I Mighty Cause 
 Of causes mighty I Cause uncaused ! Sole Root 
 Of nature, that luxuriant growth of God ! 
 First Father of effects ! that progeny 2220 
 
 Of endless series ; where the golden chain's 
 Last link admits a period, who can tell ? 
 Father of all that is or heard, or hears ! 
 Father of all that is or seen, or sees ! 
 Father of all that is, or shall arise I 222*3 
 
 Father of this immeasurable mass 
 Of jnalter multiform ; or dense, or rare ; 
 Opaque, or lucid ; rapid, or at rest ; 
 Minute, or passing bound ! in each extreme, 
 Of like araa:?e, and mystery, to man. 2230 
 
 Father of these bright millions of the night ! 
 Of which the least, full Godhead had proclaimed, 
 And thrown the gazer on his knee — Or, say, 
 Is appellation higher still, Thy choice ? 
 Father of matter's temporary lords I 2235 
 
 Father of spirits ! nobler offspring ! sparks 
 Of high paternal glory ; rich endoAv'd 
 With various measures, and with various modes 
 Of instinct, reason, intuition ; beams 
 More pale, or bright from day divine, to break 2240 
 The dark of matter organized (the ware 
 Of all created spirit ;) beams, that rise 
 Each over other in superior light, 
 Till the last ripens into lustre strong, 
 Of next approach to Godhead. Father fond 2245 
 
 (Far fonder th?vn e'er bore that name on earth) 
 
 t 
 
 * Exod. iil. ftf 
 
268 THE CONSOLATION. JVisrht IX. 
 
 '^3' 
 
 Of intellectual beings ! beings blessM 
 
 With powers to please Thee ; not of passive ply 
 
 To laws thej know not ; beings lodged in seats 
 
 Of well-adapted joys, in different domes 2250 
 
 Of this imperial palace for thy sons ; 
 
 Of this proud, populous, well-policied, 
 
 Though boundless habitation, plannM by Thee : 
 
 Whose several clans their several climates suit ; 
 
 And transposition, doubtless, would destroy. 2255 
 
 Or, oh ! inclulge, immortal King ! indulge 
 
 A title, less august, indeed, but more 
 
 Endearing ; ah ! how sweet in human ears ! 
 
 Sweet in our ears, and triumph in our hearts ! 
 
 Father of immortality to man ! 2260 
 
 A theme that lately* set my soul on fire. — 
 
 x\nd Thou the next ! yet equal ! Thou, by whom 
 
 That blessing was conveyM ; far more I was bought ; 
 
 Ineffable the price ! by whom all worlds 2264 
 
 Were made ; and one redeemM ! illustrious 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 ! 2270 
 
 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 
 
 Through the short channels of expiring time, 2275 
 
 Or shoreless ocean of eternity, ' 
 
 Calm, or tempestuous (as thj^ Spirit breathes,) 
 
 In absolute subjection ! — And, O Thou 
 
 The glorious Third !t distinct, not separate ! 
 
 Beaming from both ! with both incorporate ; 2280 
 
 And (strange to tell I) incorporate with dust ! 
 
 By condescension, as thy e;lory, great, 
 
 Erishrined in man ! of human hearts, if pure, 
 
 * Kights the Sixth and Seventh. 
 t The Holy Ghost. 
 
THE CONSOLATION. 260 
 
 Divine inhabitant ; the tie divine 
 
 Of heaven with distant earth ! by wliom, 1 trust, 2285 
 
 (If not inspired) inicensured this address 
 
 To Thee, to Them — To whom ? — Mysterious Power ; 
 
 Reveal'd — ^yet unrevealM ! darkness in light ! 
 
 Number in unity ! our joy! our dread ! 
 
 The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin ! 2290 
 
 That animates all right, the triple sun ! 
 
 Sun of the soul ! her never-setting sun ! 
 
 Triune, unutterable, unconceived, 
 
 Absconding, yet demonstrable, Great God ! 
 
 Greater than greatest ! better than the best ! 2295 
 
 Khider than kindest ! with soft pitj-^'s eye, 
 
 Or (stronger still to speak it) with thine own, 
 
 From thy bright home, from that high firmament. 
 
 Where Thou, from all eternity, hast dwelt ; 
 
 Beyond archangels' unassisted ken ; 2300 
 
 From far above what mortals highest call ; 
 
 From elevation's pinnacle ; loolc down. 
 
 Through — what ? confounding interval ! through all, 
 
 And more than labouring fancy can conceive ; 
 
 Throuii-h radiant ranks of essences unknown ; 2305 
 
 Through hierarcliies from hierarchies detach'd 
 
 Round various banners of Omnipotence, 
 
 With endless change of rapturous duties fired : 
 
 Through wondrous beings' interposing swarms, 
 
 All clustering at the calf, to dwell in Thee ; 2310 
 
 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. 
 
 Or, loAver, — an immortal in his crimes. 2315 
 
 His crimes forgive ! forgive his virtues, too ! 
 
 Those smaller faults, half converts to the right ; 
 
 Nor let me close these eyes, which never more 
 
 May see the sun (though night's descending scale 
 
 Now weighs up morn,) unpitied, and unbless'd ! 2320 
 
 In Thy displeasure dwells eternal pain ; 
 
 Pain, our aversion ; pain, >vhich strikes me now ; 
 
 And, since all pain is terrible to man. 
 
270 XHE CONSOLATION. jYight IX. 
 
 Though transient, terrible ; at Thy good hour, 
 
 Gently, ah gently, lay me in my bed, 2325 
 
 My clay-cold bed ! by nature, nqw, so near ; 
 
 By nature, near ; still nearer by disease ! 
 
 Till then, be this, an emblem of my grave : 
 
 Let it outpreach the preacher ; every night 
 
 Let it outcry the boy at Philip^s* ear ; 2330 
 
 That tongue of death ! that herald of the tomb ! 
 
 And when (the shelter of thy wing implored) 
 
 My senses, soothed, shall sink in soft repose ; 
 
 O sink this truth still deeper in my soul. 
 
 Suggested by ray pillow, sign'd by fate, 2335 
 
 First, in fate's volume, at the page of man — 
 
 Man's sickly soul^ though tumPd and toss'' d for ever. 
 
 From side to side^ can rest on nought but Thee ; 
 
 Here^ in full trust ; hereafter^ in full joy ; 
 
 On Thee, the promised, sure, eternal down 2346 
 
 Of spirits, toilM in travel through this vale. 
 
 Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; 
 
 For — Love almighty ! Love almighty ! (sing, 
 
 Exult, creation I) Love almighty, reigns I 
 
 That death of death ! that cordial of despair ! 2345 
 
 And loud eternity's triumphant song ! 
 
 ' Of whom, no more : — For, O thou Patron God !t 
 Thou God and mortal ? thence more God to man I 
 Man's theme eternal ! man's eternal theme ! 
 Thou canst not 's,cape uninjured from our praise. 2360 
 Uninjured from our praise can He escape. 
 Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bows 
 The heaven of heavens, to kiss the distant earth ! 
 Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ! 
 Against the cross, death's iron sceptre breaks ! 2355 
 From famish'd ruin plucks her human prey ! 
 Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes ! 
 Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt, 
 Deputes their suffering brothers to receive ! 
 And, if deep human guilt in payment fails ; 2360 
 
 As deeper guilt, prohibits our despair I 
 
 "'' Philfj)^ ling of Macvdon. t Jesus Christ. 
 
1:HE GONSOLAirON. ^T 1 
 
 Enjoins it, as our duty, to rejoice I 
 And, (to close all) omnipotently kind, 
 Takes his delights among the sons of men.'* 
 
 What words are these I — And did they come froiji 
 heaven ? 2365 
 
 And were they spoke to man ? to guilty maii I 
 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 heart : 23T0 
 
 Though plunged, before, in horrors dark as r!;r:h< : 
 Rich prelibation of consummate joy ! 
 Nor wait we dissolution to be bicss'd. 
 
 This final effort of the moral muse, 
 How justly titled It Nor for me alone : 'Jo?.- 
 
 For all that read ; What spirit of support. 
 What heights of consolation, crown my song : 
 
 Then, farewell Night ! Of darkness, now, no more : 
 Joy breaks, shines, triumphs ; His eternal day. 
 Shall that which rises out of nought complain 2380 
 Of a few evil?, paid with endless joys ? 
 My soul! henceforth, in sweetest union join 
 The two supports of human happiness, 
 Which some, erroneous, think can never meet ; 
 True taste of life, and constant thought of death : 238^ 
 The thought of death, sole victor of its dread ! 
 Hope, be thy joy ; and probity, thy skill ; 
 Thy patron, He, whose diadem has droppM 
 Yon gems of heaven ; eternity, thy prize : 
 And leave the racers of the world their own, 2390 
 
 Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils : 
 They part with all for that Avhich is not bread ; 
 They mortify, they starve, on vrealth, fame, power ; 
 And laugh to scorn the fools that aim at more. 
 How must a spirit, late escaped from earth, 9395 
 
 Suppose Philander's, Lucia's, or Naicisf.a"'s, 
 The truth of things new blazing in its eye. 
 Look back, astonish'd, on the ways ofnirin. 
 
 '^' Proirrbs. eha-p. viii. 3J. t TVte ConTtolallijn. 
 
272 THE CONSOLATION. JVight IX. 
 
 Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their graves ! 
 
 And when our present privilege is past, 2400 
 
 To scourge us with due sense of its abuse, 
 
 The same astonishment will seize us all. 
 
 What then must pain us, would preserve us now. 
 
 Lorenzo ! His not yet too late : Lorenzo ! 
 
 Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise ; 2405 
 
 That is, seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee. 
 
 For what, my small philosopher ! is hell ? 
 
 'Tis nothing, but full knowledge of the truth, 
 
 When truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe. 
 
 And calls eternity to do her right. 2410 
 
 Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light, 
 And sacred silence whispering truths divine. 
 And truths divine converting pain to'peace, 
 My song the midnight raven has outwing'd, 
 And shot ambitious of unbounded scenes, 2415 
 
 Beyond the flaming limits of the world. 
 Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight 
 Of fancy, when our hearts remain below ? 
 Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes : 
 'Tis pride, to praise her ; penance, to perform. 2420 
 To more than words, to more than worth of tongue, 
 Lorenzo ! rise, at this auspicious hour ; 
 An hour, when Heaven's most intimate with man ; 
 When, like a falHng star, the ray divine 
 Glides swift into the bosom of the just ; 2425 
 
 And just are all, determined to reclaim ; 
 Which sets that title high, within thy reach. 
 Awake, then ; thy Philander calls : awake ! 
 Thou, who shalt wake, when the creation sleeps ; 
 When, like a taper, all these suns expire ; 2430 
 
 When Time, like him of Gaza* in his wrath, 
 Plucking the pillars that support the world, 
 In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd ; 
 \nd Midnight^uiu^er^l Midi 
 
 tuight^uiu^er^l Midi|i|h|^ reign? 
 * Sa'iUoW, Jmges, xM. 4ft, 3D. 
 

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