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Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres. Rich death, that realizes all my cares, Through chinks, styld organs, dim life peeps at Toils, virtues, hopes; without it a chimera ! light;

Death, of all pain the period, noi of joy ; Dealh bursts th' involving cloud, and all is day ; Joy's source, and subject, still subsists unhurt: All eye, all ear, the disembodied power.

One, in my soul; and one, in her greai Sire; Death has feigu'd evils, Nature shall not feel; Though the four winds were warring for my dust. Life, ill substantial, Wisdom cannot shun.

Yes, and from winds, and waves, and central night, Is not the mighty Mind, that son of Heaven? Though prison’d there, my dust 100 I reclaim, By tyrant Life dethron'd, imprison'd, pain'u ? (To dust when drop proud Nature's proudest By Dea'h enlarg'd, ennobled, deificd?

spheres) Death but eniombs the body; lise the soul.

And live entire. Death is the crown of life : "]s Death then guiltless ? How he marks his way Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; With dreadful waste of what deserves to shine! Were death denied, to live would not be life; Ari, genius, fortune, elevated power!

Were death denied, e'en fools would wish to die. With various lustres these light up the world, Death wounds to cure : we fall; we rise, we reign! Which Dealh puts out, and darkens human race." Spring from our fetters; fusten in the skies; I grant, Lorenzo! this indictment just :

Where blooming Eden withers in our sight: The sage, peer, potentale, king, conqueror! Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. Death humbles ihese; more barbarous life, the man. This king of terrors is the prince of peace. Life is the triumph of our mouldering clay; When shall I die to vanity, pain, death? Death, of the spirit infinite! divine!

When shall I die ?- When shall I live for ever?
Dealh has no dread, but what frail life imparts ;
Nor life true joy, but what kind dealh improves.
No bliss has life to boast, till death can give
Far greater; life's a debtor to the grave,

NighT THE FOURTH.
Dark lattice! letting in eternal day.
Lorenzo! blush at fondness for a life,

THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPI.
Which sends celestial souls on errands vile,
To cater for the sense ; and serve at boards,

Containing our only Cure for the Fear of Death; and
Where every ranger of the wilds, perhaps
Each reptile. justly claims our upper hand.

proper Sentiments of that inestimable Blessing. Luxurious feast! a soul, a soul immortal,

TO THE DIOXORABLE MR. YORKE.
In all the dainties of a brute bemir'd!
Lorenzo! blush at terror for a death,

A MUCII-INDEBTED Muse, 0 Yorke! intrudes.
Which gives thee to repose in sestive bowers, Amid the smiles of fortune, and of youih,
Where nectars sparkle, angels minister,

Thine ear is patient of a serious song:And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, How deep implanted in the breast of man And eternize, the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss. The dread of death! I sing its sovereign cure. What need ( more? O Death, the palm is ihine. Why start at Death? Where he? Death Then welcome, Death! thy dreaded harbingers,

arriv'd, Age, and disease; disease, though long my guest; Is past ; not come or gone, he's never here. That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life; Ere hope, sensation fails; black-boding man Which. pluckd a little more, will toll the bell, Receives, not suffers, Death's tremendous blow. That call my few friends to my funeral;

The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave; Where feeble Nature drops, perhaps, a tear, The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; While Reason and Religion, better taught, These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb The Terrors of the living, not the dead. Wiib wreath triumphant. Death is victory; Imaginalion's fool, and error's wretch, It binds in chains the raging ills of life:

Man makes a death, which Nature never made ; Lust and ambition, wrath and avarice,

Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; Dragg'd at his chariot-wheel, applaud bis power. And feels a thousand deaihs, in searing one. That ills corrosive, cares importunate,

But were Death frightful, what has age to fear? Are not immortal too, O Death! is thine.

If prudent, age should meet the friendly tve, Our day of dissolution !--name it right;

And shelter in his hospitable gloom. 'Tis our great pay-day ; 'uis our harvest, rich I scarce can meet a monument, but holds And ripe. What though the sickle, sometimes My younger; every date cries“ Come away.” keen,

And what recalls me? Look the world around, Just scars us as we reap the golden grain ? And tell me what: the wisest canno! iell. More than thy balm, 0 Gilead! heals the wound. Should any born of woman give his thought Birth's feeble cry, and Death's deep dismal groan, Full range on just dislike's unbounded field; Are slender tributes low-tax'd Nature pays Or things, the vanity; of men, the flaws; For mighty gain: the gain of each, of life! Flaws in the best ; the many, flaw all o'er ; But (! the last the former so transcends,

As leopards, spoiled, or, as Ethiops, dark; Life dies, compar'd; life lives beyond the grave. Vivacious ill; good dying immature;

And feel I, Death! no joy from thought of thee? (How immature, Narcissa's marble tells!) Death, ihe great counsellor, who man inspires And at his death bequeathing endless pain; With every nobler thought, and fairer deed! His heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, Death, the deliverer, who rescues man!

And spend itself in sighs, for future scenes. Death, the rewarder, who the rescued crowns ! But grant to life (and just it is to grant Death, that absolves my birth ; a curse without it! To lucky life) some perquisites of joy ;

A time there is, when, like a thrice-told tale, Unbit by rage canine of dying rich;
Long-rified life of sweet can yield no more, Guilt's blunder! and the loudest laugh of Hell.
But from our comment on the comedy,

O my coëvals! remnants of yourselves!
Pleasing reflections on parts well sustaind, Poor human ruins, toitering o'er the grave!
Or purpos'd emendations where we failid,

Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, Or hopes of plaudits from our candid Judge, Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling, When, on their exit, souls are bid unrobe,

Suill more enamourd of this wretched soil ? Toss Fortune back her tinsel, and her plume, Shall our pale, wither'd hands, be still stretch'd out, And drop this mask of Nesh behind the scene. Trembling, at once, with eagerness and age ?

With me, that time is come; my world is dead; With avarice and convulsions, grasping hard ? A new world rises, and new manners reign : Grasping at air! for what has Earth beside ? Foreign comedians, a spruce band! arrive, Man wants but little; nor that little, long : To push me from the scene, or hiss me there. How soon must he resign his very dust, What a pert race starts up! the strangers gaze, Which frugal Nature lent him for an hour! And I at them; my neighbor is unknown; Years unerperienc'd rush on numerous ills ; Nor that the worst : Ah me! the dire effect And soon as man, expert from time, has found Of loitering here, of death defrauded long; The key of life, it opes the gates of death. Of old so gracious (and let that suflice,)

When in this vale of years I backward look, My very master knows me not.

And miss such numbers, numbers 100 of such Shall I dare say, peculiar is the fate?

Firmer in health, and greener in their age, I've been so long remember'd, I 'm forgot.

And stricter on their guard, and fitter far An object ever pressing dirns the sight,

To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe And hides behind its ardor to be seen.

I still survive; and am I fond of life, When in his courtiers' ears I pour my plaint, Who scarce can think it possible, I live? They drink it as the nectar of the great;

Alive by miracle ! or, what is next, And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morrow. Alive by Mead! if I am still alive, Refusal! canst thou wear a smoother form? Who long have buried what gives life to live

Indulge me, nor conceive I drop my theme : Firmness of nerve, and energy of thought. Who cheapens lise, abates the fear of death : Life's lee is not more shallow than impure Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy, And vapid ; sense and reason show the door, Court favor, yet untaken, I besiege;

Call for my bier, and point me to the dust. Ambition's ill-judged effort to be rich.

O thou great Arbiter of life and death! Alas! ambition makes my little less;

Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun! Embittering the possest. Why wish for more ? Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth Wishing, of all employments, is the worst; From darkness, teeming darkness, where I la: Philosophy's reverse; and health's decay. The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath Were I as plump as stallid theology,

The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow,
Wishing would waste me to this shade again. To drink the spirit of the golden day,
Were I as wealthy as a South-sea dream,

And triumph in existence; and could know
Wishing is an expedient to be poor.

No motive, but my bliss; and hast ordain'd
Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool;

A rise in blessing! with the patriarch's joy,
Caught at a court; purg‘d off by purer air, Thy call I follow to the land unknown ;
And simpler diet; gists of rural life!

I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust;
Blest be that hand divine, which gently laid Or life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs :
My heart at rest, beneath this humble shed. All weight in this— let me live to thee!
The world's a stately bark, on dangerous seas, Though Nature's terrors, thus, may be represt;
With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril; Still frowns grim Death ; guilt points the tyrant's
Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore,

spear. I hear the tumult of the distant throng,

And whence all human guilt? From death forgot. As that of seas remote, or dying storms:

Ah me! too long I set at nought the swarm And meditate on scenes, more silent still;

Of friendly warnings, which around me flew; Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of death. And smild, unsmitten: small my cause to smile! Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut,

Death's admonitions, like shafts upward shot, Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff,

More dreadful by delay, the longer ere Eager ambition's fiery chase I see;

They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound; I see the circling hunt, of noisy men,

O think how deep, Lorenzo! here it stings : Burst law's inclosure, leap the mounds of right, Who can appease its anguish? how it burns ! Pursuing, and pursued, each other's prey ;

What hand the barb’d, envenom'd thought can draw? As wolves, for rapine; as the fox, for wiles ; What healing hand can pour the balm of peace, Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. And turn my sight undaunted on the tomb ? Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?

With joy—with grief, that healing hand I see ; What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame? Ah! too conspicuous! it is fix'd on high. Earth's highest station ends in, “ Here he lies," On high ?-What means my frenzy ? I blaspheme; And “ Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. Alas! how low ! how far beneath the skies! If this song lives, posterity shall know

The skies it formd ; and now it bleeds for meOne, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred, But bleeds the balm I wanı-Yet still it bleeds ; Who thought e'en gold might come a day too late ; Draw the dire steel--ah no! the dreadful blessing Nor on his subtle death bed plann'd his scheme What heart or can sustain, or dares forego! For future vacancies in church or state;

There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports Some avocation deeming it—to die,

The falling universe : that gone, we drop;

Horror receives us, and the dismal wish

The Sun beheld it—no, the shocking scene Creation had been smother'd in her birth

Drove back his chariot: midnight veil'd his face ; Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust; Not such as this; not such as Nature makes ; When stars and Sun are dust beneath his throne! A midnight Nature shudder'd to behold; In Heaven itself can such indulgence dwell ? A midnight new! a dread eclipse (without O what a groan was there! a groan not his. Opposing spberes) from her Creator's frown! He seiz'd our dreadful right; the load sustain'd; Sun! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain? Or start And heav'd the mountain from a guilty world. At that enormous load of human guilt, A thousand worlds, so bought, were bought too dear; Which bow'd his blessed head; o'erwhelm'd his cross; Sensations new in angels' bosoms rise ;

Made groan the centre; burst Earth's marble womb, Suspend their song! and make a pause in bliss. With pangs, strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ?

O for their song; to reach my lofty theme! Hell howl'd; and Heaven that hour let fall a tear; Inspire me, Night! with all thy tuneful spheres ; Heaven wept, that men might smile! Heaven bled, Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes !

that man And show to men the dignity of man;

Might never die ! Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song.

And is devotion virtue? "Tis compellid. Shall Pagan pages glow celestial fame,

What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? And Christian languish? on our hearts, not heads, Such contemplations mount us; and should mount Falls the foul infamy: my heart! awake.

The mind still higher; nor ever glance on man What can awake thee, unawak'd by this,

Unraptur'd, uninflam'd.—Where roll my thoughts • Expended deity on human weal ?"

To rest from wonders ? other wonders rise ; Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night And strike where'er they roll: my soul is caught : Of heathen error, with a golden flood

Heaven's sovereign blessings, clustering from the Of endless day : to feel, is to be fir'd;

cross, And to believe, Lorenzo! is to feel.

Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round, Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Power! The prisoner of amaze -in his blest life Still more tremendous, for thy wondrous love! I see the path, and in his death the price, That arms, with awe more awful, thy commands; And in his great ascent the proof supreme And foul transgression dips in sevenfold night! Of immortality.---And did he rise ? How our hearts tremble at thy love immense ! Hear, O ye nations ! hear it, О ye dead ! In love immense, inviolably just !

He rose! he rose! he burst the bars of death. Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd, Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates! Didst stain the cross; and work of wonders far And give the King of glory to come in. The greatest, that thy dearest far might bleed. Who is the King of glory? he who left

Bold thought! shall I dare speak it, or repress? His throne of glory, for the pang of death! Should man more execrate, or boast, the guilt Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! Which rous'd such vengeance? which such love in. And give the King of glory to come in. flam'd ?

Who is the King of glory? he who slew
O'er guilt (how mountainous !) with outstretch'd arms, The ravenous foe, that gorg'd all human race!
Stern justice and soft-smiling love embrace, The King of glory, he, whose glory fillid
Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne,

Heaven with amazement at his love to man;
When seem'd its majesty to need support, And with divine complacency beheld
Or that, or man, inevitably lost ;

Powers most illumin'd, wilder'd in the theme.
What, but the fathomless of thought divine,

The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ? Could labor such expedient from despair,

Oh the burst gates! crush'd sting! demolish'd throne! And rescue both? both rescue! boʻh exalt! Last gasp! of vanquish'd Death. Shout Earth and O how are both'exalted by the deed!

Heaven! The wondrous deed! or shall I call it more ? This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then, A wonder in Omnipotence itself!

Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb! A mystery to less to gods than men!

Then, then, I rose; then first humanity
Not thus, our infidels the Eternal draw, Triumphant pass’d the crystal ports of light,
A God all o'er, consummate, absolute,

(Stupendous guest !) and seiz'd eternal youth,
Full-orb’d, in his whole round of rays complete : Seiz'd in our name. E'er since, 'tis blasphemous
They set at odds Heaven's jarring attributes ; To call man mortal. Man's mortality (ration
And, with one excellence, another wound;

Was, then, transferr'd to death ; and Heaven's du. Maim Heaven's perfection, break its equal beams, Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, Bid mercy triumph over-God himself,

This child of dust-Man, all immortal! hail; Undeified by their opprobrious praise :

Hail, Heaven! all lavish of strange gists to man! A God all mercy, is a God unjust.

Thine all the glory ; man's the boundless bliss. Ye brainless wits! ye baptiz'd infidels !

Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme, Ye worse for mending! wash'd to fouler stains ! On Christian joy's exulting wing, above The ransom was paid down; the fund of Heaven, Th’ Aonian mount ? Alas! small cause for joy! Heaven's inexhaustible, exhausted fund,

What if to pain immortal ? if extent Amazing, and amaz’d, pour'd forth the price, of being, to preclude a close of woe ? All price beyond: though curious to compute, Where, then, my boast of immortality ? Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum : I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt; Its value vast, ungrasp'd by minds create, For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd, For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme. "Tis guilt alone can justify his death!

And was the ransom paid ? it was and paid Nor that, unless his death can justify (What can exalt the bounty more ?) for you! Relenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight

If, sick of folly, I relent; he writes

O most adorable! most unador'd! My name in Heaven, with that inverted spear Where shall thy praise begin, which ne'er should (A spear deep-dipt in blood !) which pierc'd his side,

end ? And open'd there a font for all mankind,

Where'er 1 turn, what claim on all applause !
Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live: How is night's sable mantle labor'd o'er,
This, only this, subdues the fear of death. How richly wrought with attributes divine!

And what is this? -Survey the wondrous cure : What wisdom shines ! what love! this midnight pomp, And at each step, let higher wonder rise!

This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid ! “ Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon

Built with divine ambition ! nought to thee;
Through means that speak its value infinite! For others this profusion: thuu, apart,
A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! Above! beyond! O tell me, mighty Mind!
With blood divine of him I made my foe!

Where art ihou ? Shall I dive into the deep?
Persisted to provoke! though wood, and awd, Call to the Sun, or ask the roaring winds
Blest, and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still!

For their Creator! Shall I question loud
A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne ! The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells ?
Nor I alone! a rebel universe !

Or holds he furious storms in stralien'd reins,
My species up in arms! not one exempt!

And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car! Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies,

What mean these questions? Trembling, I retract; Most joy'd, for the redeem'd from deepest guilt! My prostrate soul adores the present God : As if our race were held of highest rank;

Praise I a distant deity? He tunes And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!" My voice (if rund ;) the nerve, that writes, sustains :

Bound, every heart! and every bosom, burn! Wrapt in his being, I resound his praise :
O what a scale of miracles is here!

But though past all diffus'd, without a shore,
Its lowest round, high planted on the skies ; His essence ; local is his throne, (as meel,)
Its towering summit lost beyond the thought To gather the disperst, (as standards call
Of man or angel! O that I could climb

The listed from afar:) 10 fix a point,
The wonderful ascent, with equal praise !

A central point, collective of his sons, Praise! flow for ever (if astonishment

Since finite every nature but his own. Will give thee leave :) my praise! for ever flow; The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth; Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Hcaven And Nature's shield, the shadow of his hand; More fragrani, than Arabia sacrific'd,

Her dissolution, his suspended sinile!
And all her spicy mountains in a flame.

The great First-Last ! pavilion'd high he sits,
So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, In darkness from excessive splendor borne,
With her soft plume (from plausive angel's wing By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost.
First pluck'd by man) to tickle inortal ears, His glory, to created glory, bright,
Thus diving in the pockets of the great ?

As that to central horrors; he looks down
Is praise the perquisite of every paw,

On all that soars; and spans immensity. Though black as Hell, that grapples well for gold? Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to viev Oh love of gold! thou meanest of amours ! Boundless creation! what art thou? A beam Shall pruise her odors waste on virtues dead, A mere effluvium of his majesty: Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, And shall an atom of this alom-world Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair,

Murter, in dust and sin, the theme of Heaven? Removing filth, or sinking it from sight,

Down to the centre should I send my thought A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts, Through beds of glittering ore, and glowing gems, Like gibbeis yet untenanted, expect

Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay; Their future ornamenis? From courts and thrones, Goes out in darliness: if, on towering wing, Return, apostate Praise ! thou vagabond !

I send it through the boundless vault of stars! Thou prostitute! 10 thy first love return,

| The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to thee. Thy first, thy greatest, once unrival'd theme. Great! good! wise! wonderful! eternal King !

There Now redundant ; like Meander, flow If to those conscious stars thy throne around,
Back to thy fountain ; 10 that Parent Power, Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing bliss;
Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar. And ask their strain; they want it, more they want,
The soul to be. Men homage pay to men,

Poor their abundance, humble their sublime,
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow Languid their energy, their ardor cold,
In mutual awe profound of clay to clay,

Indebied still, their highest rapture burns ;
Of guilt to guilt; and turn their back on thee, Short of its mark, defective, though divine.
Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing : Still more-This theme is man's, and man's alone
To prostrate angels, an amazing scene!

Their vast appointments reach it not: they see O the presumption of man's awe for man!

On Earth a bounty not indulg`d on high ; Man's Author! End! Restorer! Law! and Judge! And downward look for Heaven's superior praise! Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of night, First-born of ether! high in fields of light! With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds: View man, to see the glory of your God! What, night eternal, but a frown from ibee? Could angels envy, they had envied here ; What, Heaven's meridian glory, but thy sinile? And some did envy; and the rest, though gods, And shall not praise be thine, not human praise ? Yet still gods unredeem'd, (there triumphs man, While Heaven's high host on hallelujahs live? Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies.)

O may I breathe no longer than I breathe They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme. My soul in praise to him, who gave my soul, They sung Creation (for in that they shards) And all her infinite of prospect fair,

How rose in melody, that child of love! Cut through the shades of Hell, great love! by thee, Creation's great superior, man! is thine ;

Thine is redemption; they just gave the key : Conception unconfin'd wants wings to reach him : "Tis thine to raise, and eternize, the song ;

Beyond his reach, the Godhead only, more.
Though human, yet divine: for should not this He, the great Father! kindled at one flame
Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here? The world of rationals; one spirit pour'd
Redemption ! 'was creation more sublime ; From spirit's awful fountain : pour'd himself
Redemption! 'twas the labor of the skies; Through all their souls ; but not in equal stream,
Far more than labor — It was death in Heaven. Profuse, or frugal, of th' aspiring God,
A trath so strange! 'twere bold to think it true; As his wise plan demanded ; and when past
If not far bolder still to disbelieve!

Their various trials in their various spheres,
Here pause, and ponder: was there death in If they continue rational, as made,
Heaven ?

Resorbs them all into himself again; What then on Earth ? On Earth, which struck the His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. blow?

Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing, Who struck it? Who?-0 how is man enlarg d Though yet unsung, as deern'd, perhaps, too bold? Seen through this medium! how the pigmy towers! Angels are men of a superior kind; How counterpois'd his origin from dust!

Angels are men in lighter habit clad, How counterpois'd, to dust his sad return!

High o'er celestial mountains wing’d in flight; How voided his vast distance from the skies ! And men are angels loaded for an hour, How near he presses on the sera ph's wing ! Who wade this miry vale, and climb with pain, Which is the seraph ? Which the born of clay? And slippery step, the bottom of the sleep. How this demonstrates, through the thickest cloud Angels their failings, mortals have their praise ; Of guilt, and clay condens'd, the son of He: ven! While here, of corps ethereal, such enroll’d, The double son ; the made, and the re-ma e! And summond to the glorious standard soon, And shall Heaven's double property bel ist? Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. Man's double madness only can destroy.

Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, To man the bleeding cross has promis'd all; Yet absent; but not absent from their love. The bleeding cross has sworn eternal grace ; Michael has fought our batiles ; Raphael sung Who gave his life, what grace shall he deny ? Our triumphs ; Gabriel on our errands Aown, Oye! who, from this rock of ages, leap,

Sent by the Sovereign: and are these, O man ! A postates, plunging headlong in the deep! Thy friends, thy warm allies? and thou (shame burr, What cordial joy, what consolation strong, The cheek to cinder!) rival to the brute ? Whatever winds arise, or billows roll,

Religion's All. Descending from the skies Our interest in the master of the storm!

To wretched man, the goddess, in her left,
Cling there, and in wreck'd Nature's ruin smile ; Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next;
While vile apostates tremble in a calm.

Religion ! the sole voucher man is man;
Man! know thyself. All wisdom centres there; Supporter sole of man above himself;
To none man seems ignoble, but to man;

E'en in this night of frailty, change, and death,
Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire : She gives the soul a soul that acts a god.
How long shall human nature be their book, Religion! Providence ! an after-state!
Degenerate mortal! and unread by thee ?

Here is firm footing; here is solid rock! The beam dim reason sheds shows wonders there; This can support us; all is sea besides ; What high contents ! Illustrious faculties!

Sinks under us ; bestorms, and then devours. But the grand comment, which displays at full His hand the good man fastens on the skies, Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine, And bids Earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. By Heaven compos'd, was publish'd on the cross. As when a wretch, from thick, polluted air,

Who looks on that, and sees not in himself Darkness and stench, and suffocation-damps, An awful stranger, a terrestrial god ?

And dungeon-horrors, by kind fate, discharg'd, A glorious partner with the Deity

Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure In that high attribute, immortal life?

Surrounds him, and Elysian prospects rise, If a god bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm : His heart exults, his spirits cast their load; I gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul

As if new-born, he triumphs in the change ; Catches strange fire, Eternity! at thee;

So joys the soul, when, from inglorious aims, And drops the world-or rather, more enjoys : And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth How chang'd the face of Nature ! how improv'd! Of ties terrestrial, set at large, she mounts What seem'd a chaos, shines a glorious world, To reason's region, her own element, Or, what a world, an Eden; heighten'd all! Breathes hopes immortal, and affects the skies. It is another scene! another self!

Religion! thou the soul of happiness ; And still another, as time rolls along;

And, groaning Calvary, of thee! There shine And that a self far more illustrious still.

The noblest truths; there strongest motives sting; Beyond long ages, yet rollid up in shades There sacred violence assaults the soul ; Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray, There, nothing but compulsion is forborne. What evolutions of surprising fate!

Can love allure us? or can terror awe ? How Nature opens, and receives my soul He weeps the falling drop puts out the Sun; In boundless walks of raptur'd thought! where gods He sighs—the sigh Earth's deep foundation shakes Encounter and embrace me! What new births If in his love so terrible, what then Of strange adventure, foreign to the Sun;

His wrath inflam'd ? his tenderness on fire ? Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists, Like soft, smooth oil, ouiblazing other fires ? Old time, and fair creation, are forgot!

Can prayer, can praise, avert it ?- Thou, my AU ! Is this extravagant? Of man we form

My theme! my inspiration! and my crown! Extravagant conception, to be just :

My strength in age! my rise in low estate !

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