In haste for Paradise

I stretch the pinions of a bolder thought:

Scarce had I will'd, but I was past

Deserts of trackless light and all th' etherial waste, And to the sacred borders brought;

There on the wing a guard of cherubs lies,

Each waves a keen flame as he flies,

And well defends the walls from sieges and suprise.

With pleasing rev'rence I behold

The pearly portals wide unfold:
Enter, my soul, and view th' amazing scenes;
Supported by the flying muse,

Now let thy roving wonder loose

O'er all the empy real plains.

Noon stands eternal here: here may thy sight
Drink in the rays of primogenial light;
Here breathe immortal air:

Joy must beat high in ev'ry vein,
Pleasure through all thy bosom reign;
The laws forbid that stranger, pain,
And banish every care.

See how the bubbling springs of love
Beneath the throne arise;

The streams in crystal channels move,
Around the golden streets they rove,
And bless the mansions of the upper skies.
There a fair grove of knowledge grows,
Nor sin nor death infects the fruit ;
Young life hangs fresh on all the boughs,
And springs from ev'ry root;

Here may thy greedy senses feast

While ecstacy and health attends on every taste. With the fair prospect charm'd I stood;

Fearless I feed on the delicious fare,

And drink profuse salvation from the silver flood, Nor can excess be there.

In sacred order rang'd along,

Saints new-releas'd by death

Join the bold seraph's warbling breath,
And aid th' immortal song.

Each has a voice that tunes his strings
To mighty sounds and mighty things,
Things of everlasting weight,
Sounds like the softer viol, sweet,
And, like the trumpet strong.
Divine attention held my soul,
I was all ear!

Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll,
I long'd and wish'd my Bradbury there;
"Could he but hear these notes," I said,
"His tuneful soul would never bear

The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread,
But burst the vital cords to reach the happy dead."

And now my tongue prepares to join
The harmony, and with a noble aim
Attempts th' unutterable name,

But faints confounded by the notes divine:
Again my soul th' unequal honour sought,

Again her utmost force she brought,

And bow'd beneath the burden of the unwieldly thought.
Thrice I essay'd, and fainted thrice;

The immortal labour strained my feeble frame,
Broke the bright vision, and dissolv'd the dream
I sunk at once and lost the skies:

In vain I sought the scenes of light
Rolling abroad my longing eyes,

For all around them stood my curtains and the night.

STRICT RELIGION VERY RARE.

I'M borne aloft, and leave the crowd,
I sail upon a morning cloud
Skirted with dawning gold:
Mine eyes beneath the opening day
Command the globe with wide survey,
Where ants in busy millions play,
And tug and heave the mould.

"Are these the things (my passion cried)
That we call men? Are these allied
To the fair worlds of light?

They have ras'd out their Maker's name,
Grav'n on their minds with pointed flame
In strokes divinely bright.

"Wretches! they hate their native skies; If an ethereal thought arise,

Or spark of virtue shine,

With cruel force they damp its plumes,
Choke the young fire with sensual fumes,
With business, lust, or wine.

"Lo! how they throng with panting breath The broad descending road

That leads unerrring down to death,

Nor miss the dark abode."

Thus while I drop a tear or two
On the wild herd, a noble few
Dare to stray upward, and pursue

The unbeaten way to God.

I meet Myrtilo mounting high,
I know his candid soul afar:

Here Dorylus and Thyrsis fly
Each like a rising star,

Charin I see and Fidea there,

I see them help each other's flight,
And bless them as they go;

They soar beyond my lab'ring sight,
And leave their loads of mortal care,
But not their love below.

On heav'n, their home, they fix their eyes,
The temple of their God:

With morning incense up they rise

Sublime, and through the lower skies

Spread their perfumes abroad.

Across the road a seraph flew,

"Mark (said he) that happy pair,
Marriage helps devotion there:

When kindred minds their God pursue
They break with double vigour through
The dull incumbent air."

Charm'd with the pleasure and surprise
My soul adores and sings,

"Blest be the pow'r that springs their flight,
That streaks their path with heavenly light,
That turns their love to sacrifice,

And joins their zeal for wings."

TO MR. C. AND MR. S. FLEETWOOD.

FLEETWOODS, young generous pair,

Despise the joys that fools pursue;
Bubbles are light and brittle too,

Born of the water and the air.

Tried by a standard bold and just,
Honour and gold, and paint and dust;
How vile the last is, and as vain the first!
Things that the crowd call great and brave,
With me how low their value's brought!
Titles and names, and life and breath,
Slaves to the wind, and born for death;
The soul's the only thing we have
Worth an important thought.

The soul! 'tis of th' immortal kind,

Nor form'd of fire, or earth, or wind,

Outlives the mould'ring corpse, and leaves the globe be

hind.

In limbs of clay though she appears,

Array'd in rosy skin, and deck'd with ears and eyes,

The flesh is but the soul's disguise,

There's nothing in her frame, kin to the dress she wears:

From all the laws of matter free,

From all we feel, from all we see

She stands eternally distinct, and must for ever be.

Rise then, my thoughts, on high, Soar beyond all that's made to die; Lo! on an awful throne

Sits the Creator and the Judge of souls,

Whirling the planets round the poles,

Winds off our threads of life, and brings our periods on. Swift the approach, and solemn is the day

When this immortal mind,

Script of the body's coarse array,

To endless pain or endless joy

Must be at once consigned.

Think of the sands run down to waste,

None we possess of all the past,