Lie close, unmindful of their former feuds.
The lawn-robed prelate, and plain presbyter,
Erewhile that stood aloof as shy to meet,
Familiar mingle here, like sister-streams
That some rude interposing rock had split.
Here is the large-limb'd peasant; here the child
Of a span long, that never saw the sun,

Nor press'd the nipple, strangled in life's porch :
Here is the mother with her sons and daughters;
The barren wife; the long-demurring maid,
Whose lonely unappropriated sweets
Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff,
Not to be come at by the willing hand.
Here are the prude severe, and gay coquette,
The sober widow, and the young green virgin,
Cropp'd like a rose before 'tis fully blown,
Or half its worth disclosed. Strange medley here!
Here garrulous old age winds up his tale;
And jovial youth, of lightsome vacant heart,
Whose every day was made of melody,

Hears not the voice of mirth: the shrill-tongued

shrew,

Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding.
Here are the wise, the generous, and the brave;
The just, the good, the worthless, the profane,
The downright clown, and perfectly well-bred;
The fool, the churl, the scoundrel, and the mean,
The supple statesman, and the patriot stern;
The wrecks of nations, and the spoils of time,
With all the lumber of six thousand years.

Poor man! how happy once in thy first state, When yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand, He stamp'd thee with his image, and well-pleased Smiled on his last fair work! Then all was well.

Sound was the body, and the soul serene;
Like two sweet instruments, ne'er out of tune,
That play their several parts. Nor head, nor heart,
Offer'd to ache; nor was there cause they should,
For all was pure within: no fell remorse,
Nor anxious castings up of what may be,
Alarm'd his peaceful bosom: summer seas
Show not more smooth when kiss'd by southern
winds,

Just ready to expire. Scarce importuned,
The generous soil with a luxuriant hand
Offer'd the various produce of the year,
And every thing most perfect in its kind.
Blessed, thrice blessed days! but, ah, how short!
Bless'd as the pleasing dreams of holy men,
But fugitive, like those, and quickly gone.
O slippery state of things! What sudden turns,
What strange vicissitudes, in the first leaf
Of man's sad history! to-day most happy;
And, ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject!
How scant the space between these vast extremes !
Thus fared it with our sire: not long he enjoy'd
His paradise; scarce had the happy tenant
Of the fair spot due time to prove its sweets,
Or sum them up, when straight he must be gone,
Ne'er to return again. And must he go?
Can naught compound for the first dire offence
Of erring man? Like one that is condemn'd,
Fain would he trifle time with idle talk,
And parley with his fate. But 'tis in vain.
Not all the lavish odours of the place
Offer'd in incense can procure his pardon,
Or mitigate his doom. A mighty angel
With flaming sword forbids his longer stay,

And drives the loiterer forth; nor must he take One last and farewell round. At once he lost His glory and his God. If mortal now,

And sorely maim'd, no wonder! Man has sinn'd :
Sick of his bliss, and bent on new adventures,
Evil he would needs try; nor tried in vain.
(Dreadful experiment! destructive measure!
Where the worst thing could happen, is success.)
Alas! too well he sped: the good he scorn'd
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or, if it did, its visits

Like those of angels, short, and far between :
Whilst the black dæmon, with his hell-'scaped train,
Admitted once into its better room,

Grew loud and mutinous, nor would be gone;
Lording it o'er the man, who now too late
Saw the rash error which he could not mend;
An error fatal not to him alone,

But to his future sons, his fortune's heirs.
Inglorious bondage! human nature groans
Beneath a vassalage so vile and cruel,

And its vast body bleeds through every vein.

What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, Sin! Greatest and first of ills! the fruitful parent Of woes of all dimensions! but for thee Sorrow had never been. All noxious things Of vilest nature, other sorts of evils, Are kindly circumscribed, and have their bounds. The fierce volcano, from its burning entrails That belches molten stone and globes of fire, Involved in pitchy clouds of smoke and stench, Mars the adjacent fields for some leagues round, And there it stops. The big-swoln inundation, Of mischief more diffusive, raving loud,

Buries whole tracts of country, threatening more;
But that too has its shore it cannot pass.

More dreadful far than these, sin has laid waste,
Not here and there a country, but a world;
Dispatching at a wide-extended blow
Entire mankind, and for their sakes defacing
A whole creation's beauty with rude hands;
Blasting the foodful grain, the loaded branches,
And marking all along its way with ruin.
Accursed thing! O where shall fancy find
A proper name to call thee by, expressive
Of all thy horrors? pregnant womb of ills!
Of temper so transcendently malign,
That toads and serpents of most deadly kind
Compared to thee are harmless. Sicknesses
Of every size and symptom, racking pains,
And bluest plagues are thine! See how the fiend
Profusely scatters the contagion round;

Whilst deep-mouth'd slaughter, bellowing at her heels,

Wades deep in blood new-spilt; yet for to-morrow Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring, And inly pines till the dread blow is struck.

But hold! I've gone too far; too much discover'd My father's nakedness, and nature's shame. Here let me pause! and drop an honest tear, One burst of filial duty, and condolence, O'er all those ample deserts Death hath spread, This chaos of mankind. O great man-eater, Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet! Unheard-of epicure! without a fellow ! The veriest gluttons do not always cram; Some intervals of abstinence are sought To edge the appetite: thou seekest none.

Methinks the countless swarms thou hast devour'd,
And thousands that each hour thou gobblest up,^
This, less than this, might gorge thee to the full.
But, ah! rapacious still, thou gapest for more:
Like one, whole days defrauded of his meals,
On whom lank Hunger lays his skinny hand,
And whets to keenest eagerness his cravings.
(As if Diseases, Massacre, and Poison,
Famine, and War, were not thy caterers!)

But now that thou must render up thy dead, And with high interest too! they are not thine; But only in thy keeping for a season,

Till the great promised day of restitution;
When loud diffusive sound from brazen trump
Of strong-lung'd cherub shall alarm thy captives,
And rouse the long, long sleepers into life,
Day-light, and liberty.-

Then must thy gates fly open, and reveal

The mines that lay long forming under ground,
In their dark cells immured; but now full ripe,
And pure as silver from the crucible,

That twice has stood the torture of the fire,
And inquisition of the forge. We know

The illustrious Deliverer of mankind,

The Son of God, thee foil'd. Him in thy power
Thou couldst not hold: self-vigorous he rose,
And, shaking off thy fetters, soon retook
Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent.

(Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!)
Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth,
And show'd himself alive to chosen witnesses
By proofs so strong, that the most slow-assenting
Had not a scruple left. This having done,
He mounted up to heaven. Methinks I see him