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Nor Nature's law with fruitlefs forrow mourn,

But die, O mortal man! for thou waft born.

535

Cautious thro' doubt, by want of courage wife,

To fuch advice the reas'ner ftill replies.

Yet measuring all the long continu'd space,
Ev'ry fucceffive day's repeated race,
Since Time first started from his priftine goal,

Till he had reach'd that hour wherein my foul
Join'd to my body fwell'd the womb, I was
(At least I think fo) nothing; muft I pafs
Again to nothing when this vital breath
Ceafing, configns me o'er to reft and death ?
Mutt the whole man, amazing thought! return
To the cold marble or contracted urn?
And never shall thofe particles agree
That were in life this individual he?
But fever'd, muft they join the gen'ral mafs,
Thro' other forms and fhapes ordain'd to pafs,
Nor thought nor image kept of what he was?
Does the great word that gave him fenfe ordain
That life fhall never wake that fenfe again?
And will no pow'r his finking fpirits fave

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554 [grave?

From the dark caves of death, and chambers of the Each ev'ning I behold the fetting fun

With downward fpeed into the ocean run ;

Yet the fame light (pafs but fome fleeting hours)
Exerts his vigour and renews his pow'rs;

560

Starts the bright race again: his conftant flame
Rifes and fets, returning ftill the same.
I mark the various fury of the winds;
Thefe neither feafons guide nor order binds;

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They now dilate, and now contract their force; 565
Various their speed, but endless is their courfe,
From his first fountain and beginning ouze
Down to the fea each brook and torrent flows;
Tho' fundry drops or leave or fwell the stream,
The whole ftill runs, with equal pace the fame; 570
Still other waves fupply the rifing urns,

And the eternal flood no want of water mourns.

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Why then must man obey the fad decree,
Which fubjects neither fun, nor wind, nor fea?
A flow'r that does with op'ning morn arife,
And flourishing the day at ev'ning dies;
A winged eastern blast, just skimming 'er
The ocean's brow, and finking on the fhore;
A fire, whofe flames thro' cracking stubbles fly;
A meteor fhooting from the summer sky;
A bowl adown the bending mountain roll'd;
A bubble breaking, and a fable told;

A noontide shadow, and a midnight dream,
Are emblems which with femblance apt proclaim
Our earthly course; but, O my Soul! so fast
Muft life run off, and death for ever last!

This dark opinion fure is too confin'd,
Elfe whence this hope and terror of the mind?
Does fomething till, and fomewhere, yet remain,
Reward or punithment, delight or pain?
Say, fhall our relics fecond birth receive?
Sleep we to wake, and only die to live?

When the fad wife has clos'd her husband's eyes,
And pierc'd the echoing vault with doleful cries,

Lies the pale corpfe not yet entirely dead,

The fpirit only from the body fled,

The groffer part of heat and motion void,
To be by fire, or worm, or time, deftroy'd ;
The foul, immortal fubftance, to remain
Confcious of joy and capable of pain?
And if her acts have been directed well,
While with her friendly clay the deign'd to dwell,
Shall the with fafety reach her priftine feat,
Find her reft endlefs, and her blifs complete ?
And while the bury'd man we idly mourn,
Do angels joy to fee his better half return?
But if he has deform'd this earthly life
With murd'rous rapine and feditious ftrife,
Amaz'd, repuls'd, and by thofe angels driv'n
From the ethereal feat and blissful heav'n,
In everlasting darkness muft fhe lie,

Still more unhappy that he cannot die ?

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Amid two feas, on one timall point of land,
Weary'd, uncertain, and amaz'd, we stand;
On either fide our thoughts inceffant turn,
Forward we dread, and looking back we mourn,
Lofing the prefent in this dubious haite,

And loft ourfelves betwixt the future and the pat.
Thefe cruel doubts contending in my breast,
My reafon ftaggering and my hopes oppreft,
Once more I faid, once more I will inquire,
What is this little, agile, pervious fire,

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This flatt'ring motion which we call the Mind,
How does the act? and where is the confin'd?
Have we the pow'r to guide her as we please?
Whence then thofe evils that obftruct our eafe?

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We happiness purfue: we fly from pain;
Yet the purfuit and yet the flight is vain:
And while poor Nature labours to be bleft,
By day with pleasure, and by night with reft,
Some ftronger pow'r eludes our fickly will,
Dafhes our rifing hope with certain ill,
And makes us, with reflective trouble, fee
That all is deftin'd which we fancy free.

-634

That pow'r fuperior then which rules our mind,
Is his decree by human pray'r inclin'd?
Will he for facrifice our forrows eafe!
And can our tears reverfe his firm decrees.?
Then let religion aid where reafon fails,
Throw loads of incenfe in to turn the fcales,
And let the filent fanctuary fhow,

640

What from the babbling fchools we may not know, How man may fhun or bear his deftin'd part of woe. What fhall amend, or what abfolve our fate? Anxious we hover in a mediate ftate

Betwixt infinity and nothing; bounds,

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Or boundlefs terms, whofe doubtful fenfe confounds:
Unequal thought, whiltt all we apprehend
Is, that our hopes muft rife, our forrows end,
As our Creator deigns to be our friend.

I faid, and inftant bade the priests prepare
The ritual facrifice and folemn pray'r.

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Select from vulgar herds, with garlands gay,
A hundred bulls afcend the facred way:
The artful youth proceed to form the choir,
They breathe the flute, or ftrike the vocal wire.
The maids in comely order next advance,
They beat the timbrel and inftruct the dance :
Follows the chofen tribe, from Levi fprung,
Chanting by juft return the holy fong.
Along the choir in folemn ftate they paft,
-The anxious King came laft.

The facred hymn perform'd, my promis'd vow
I paid, and, bowing at the altar low,

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Father of heav'n! I faid, and Judge of earth! 665 Whofe word call'd out this univerfe to birth, By whofe kind pow'r and influencing care The various creatures move, and live, and are; But ceafing once that care, withdrawn that pow'r, They move (alas!) and live, and are no more; Omnifcient Mafter, omniprefent King,

To thee, to thee my laft diftrefs I bring.

670

Thou that canft ftill the raging of the feas,
Chain up the winds, and bid the tempefts ceafe,
Redeem my fhipwreck'd foul from raging gufts 675
Of cruel paffion and deceitful lufts;

From ftorms of rage and dang'rous rocks of pride,
Let thy ftrong hand this little veffel guide,
(It was thy hand that made it) thro' the tide
Impetuous of this life, let thy command
Direct my courfe, and bring me fafe to land.
If, while this weary'd flesh draws fleeting breath,
Not fatisfy'd with life, afraid of death,
It haply be thy will that I fhould know

Glimpfe of delight, or pause from anxious woe,
From now, from inftant now, great Sire! difpel
The clouds that prefs my foul; from now reveal
A gracious beam of light; from now inspire
My tongue to fing, my hand to touch the lyre;
My open'd thought to joyous profpects raise,
And for thy mercy let me fing thy praise :

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Or, if thy will ordains, I still shall wait

Some new hereafter and a future state,

Permit me strength my weight of woe to bear,

And raise my mind fuperior to my care.

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Let me, howe'er unable to explain

The fecret lab'rinths of thy ways to man,
With humble zeal confefs thy awful pow'r,
Still weeping hope, and wond'ring, still adore:
So in my conqueft be thy might declar'd,
And for thy justice be thy name rever'd.

My pray'r fcarce ended, a ftupendous gloom
Darkens the air; loud thunder fhakes the dome :
To the beginning miracle fucceed

700

An awful filence and religious dread.

705

Sudden breaks forth a more than common day;

The facred wood, which on the altar lay

Untouch'd, unlighted glows

Ambrofial odour, fuch as never flows
From Arab's gum or the Sabean rofe,
Does round the air evolving fcents diffufe:
The holy ground is wet with heav'nly dews :
Celestial mufic (fuch Jeffides' lyre,

Such Miriam's timbrel would in vain require)
Strikes to my thought thro' my admiring ear,
With ecftaly too fine, and pleature hard to bear:
And, lo! what fees my ravifh'd eye? what feels
My wond'ring foul? an op'ning cloud reveals
An heav'nly form embody'd and array'd
With robes of light. I heard; the angel faid,
Ceafe, Man, of woman born, to hope relief
From daily trouble and continu'd grief.
Thy hope of joy deliver to the wind:
Supprefs thy paffions, and prepare thy mind.
Free and familiar with misfortune grow;
Be us'd to forrow, and inur'd to woe.
By weak'ning toil and hoary age o'ercome,
See thy decreafe, and hafting to thy tomb.
Leave to thy children tumult, ftrife, and war,
Portions of toil, and legacies of care:

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