Call'd to the temple of impure delight, Be damnable, then damn'd without excuse. will, The storm of passion, and say, Peace, be still; But Thus far and no farther, when address'd To the wild wave, or wilder human breast, Implies authority, that never can, That never ought to be the lot of man. But, Muse, forbear; long flights forebode a fall: Strike on the deep-toned chord the sum of all. Hear the just law-the judgment of the skies, He that hates truth shall be the dupe of lies: And he that will be cheated to the last, Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast. But if the wanderer his mistake discern, Judge his own ways, and sigh for a return, Bewilder'd once, must he bewail his loss For ever and for ever? No-the cross! There and there only (though the deist rave, And atheist, if earth bear so base a slave); There and there only is the power to save. There no delusive hope invites despair; I am no preacher, let this hint suffice- TRUTH. Pensantur trutinâ. HOR. Lib. II. Epist. I. MAN, on the dubious waves of error toss'd, Charge not, with light sufficient, and left free, Your wilful suicide on God's decree. O, how unlike the complex works of man, No clustering ornaments to clog the pile; And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way. Who judged the pharisee? What odious cause No-the man's morals were exact; what then? 'Twas his ambition to be seen of men; His virtues were his pride; and that one vice Made all his virtues gewgaws of no price; He wore them as fine trappings for a show, A praying, synagogue-frequenting beau. The self-applauding bird, the peacock seeMark what a sumptuous pharisee is he! Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold His radiant glories, azure, green, and gold: He treads as if, some solemn music near, His measured step were govern'd by his ear; And seems to say-Ye meaner fowl, give place, I am all splendour, dignity, and grace! Not so the pheasant on his charms presumes, Though he too has a glory in his plumes; He, Christianlike, retreats with modest mien To the close copse, or far sequester'd green, And shines without desiring to be seen. The plea of works, as arrogant and vain, Heaven turns from with abhorrence and disdain; No more affronted by avow'd neglect, Than by the mere dissembler's feign'd respect. What is all righteousness that men devise? What-but a sordid bargain for the skies? But Christ as soon would abdicate his own, As stoop from Heaven to sell the proud a throne. His dwelling a recess in some rude rock, Book, beads, and maple-dish, his meagre stock; In shirt of hair and weeds of canvass dress'd, Girt with a bell-rope, that the Pope has bless'd; Adust with stripes told out for every crime, And sore tormented long before his time; His prayer preferr❜d to saints, that cannot aid; His praise postponed, and never to be paid; See the sage hermit, by mankind admired, With all that bigotry adopts inspired, Wearing out life in his religious whim, Till his religious whimsey wears out him. His works, his abstinence, his zeal allow'd, You think him humble-God accounts him proud; High in demand, though lowly in pretence, Of all his conduct this the genuine senseMy penitential stripes, my streaming blood Have purchased Heaven, and prove my title good. Turn eastward now, and Fancy shall apply To your weak sight her telescopic eye. The bramin kindles on his own bare head The sacred fire, self-torturing his trade; His voluntary pains, severe and long, Would give a barbarous air to British song; No grand inquisitor could worse invent, Than he contrives to suffer, well content. Which is the saintly worthier of the two? . If sufferings Scripture no where recommends, The truth is (if the truth may suit your ear, |