A world, that shall survive the fall

Of all his wonders here,

Survive, when funs ten thousand drop,
And leave a darken'd sphere.

Yon matter grofs, how bright it shines !
For time how great his care!

Sure fpirit and eternity

Far richer glories fhare;

Let thofe our hearts imprefs, on those
Our contemplation dwell;

On thofe my thoughts how juftly thrown,
By what I now shall tell :

When backward with attentive mind
Life s labyrinth I trace,

I find him far myself beyond

Propitious to my peace:

Through all the crooked paths I trod
My folly he pursued ;
My heart aftray to quick return
Importunately woo'd;

Due Refignation home to prefs
On my capricious will,
How many rescues did I meet,
Beneath the mask of ill!
How many foes in ambush laid
Beneath my foul's defire!
The deepest penitents are made
By what we most admire.
Have I not fometimes (real good
So little mortals know!)
Mounting the fummit of my wish,
Profoundly plung'd in woe?
I rarely plann'd, but cause I found
My plan's defeat to blefs :
Oft I lamented an event;

It turn'd to my fuccefs.

By fharpen'd appetite to give
To good intenfe delight,
Through dark and deep perplexities
He led me to the right.

And is not this the gloomy path,
Which you are treading now?
The path most gloomy leads to light,
When our proud paffions bow:
When labouring under fancy'd ill,
My fpirits to fustain,

He kindly cur'd with fovereign draughts

Of unimagin❜d pain.

Pain'd fenfe from fancy'd tyranny

Alone can fet us free;

A thousand, miferies we feel,

Till funk in mifery.

VOL. VII.

Cloy'd with a glut of all we wish,
Our with we relifh lefs;
Succefs, a fort of fuicide,
Is ruin'd by fuccefs :

Sometimes he led me near to death,
And, pointing to the grave,
Bid terror whifper kind advice;
And taught the tomb to saye:

To raife my thoughts beyond where worlds
As fpangles o'er us shine,
One day he gave, and bid the next
My foul's delight refign.

We to ourselves, but through the means
Of mirrors, are unknown;

In this my fate can you defcry
No features of your own?
And if you can, let that excufe
Thefe felf-recording lines;

A record, modesty forbids,

Or to fmall bounds confines :
In grief why deep ingulph'd? You fee
You fuffer nothing rare ;

Uncommon grief for common fate!
That wifdom eannot bear.

When ftreams flow backward to their fource,
And humble flames defcend,

And mountains wing'd shall fly aloft,
Then human forrows end;

But human prudence too must ceafe,
When forrows domineer,
When fortitude has loft its fire,

And freezes into fear:

The pang moft poignant of my life
Now heightens my delight;

I fee a fair creation rife

From chaos, and old night.

From what feem'd horror, and defpair,
The richest harvest rofe;

And gave me in the nod divine

An abfolute repofe.

Of all the plunders of mankind,
More grofs, or frequent, none,
Than in their grief and joy mifplac'd,
Eternally are shown.

But whither points all this parade?
It fays, that near you lies

A book, perhaps, yet unperus'd,
Which you should greatly prize :

Of felf-perufal, science rare!

Few know the mighty gain;
Learn'd Prelates, felf-unread, may read
Their Bibles o'er in vain :

Self-knowledge, which from heaven itself

(Sa fages tell us) came

What is it, but a daughter fair

Of my maternal theme?

Unletter'd and untravel'd men

An oracle might find,

Would they confult their own contents,
The Delphos of the mind.

Enter your bofom; there you'll meet

A revelation new,

A revelation perfonal;

Which none can read but you.
There will you clearly read reveal'd

In your enlighten'd thought,
By mercies manifold, through life,
To fresh remembrance brought,
A mighty Being! and in Him
A complicated friend,

A father, brother, fpoufe; no dread
Of death, divorce, or end:
Who fuch a matchlefs friend embrace,
And lodge him in their heart,
Full well, from agonies exempt,
With other friends may part:
As when o'erloaded branches bear
Large clusters big with wine,
We fcarce regret one falling leaf
From the luxuriant vine.

My fhort advice to you may found

Obfcure or fomewhat odd,

Though 'tis the best that man can give,—

"Ev'n be content with God."

Through love he gave you the deceas'd,
Through greater took him hence;
This reafon fully could evince,

Though murmur'd at by fenfe.
This friend, far past the kindest kind,
Is paft the greatest great;
His greatness let me touch in points
Not foreign to your state';

His eye, this inftant, reads your heart;
4 truth lefs obvious hear;

This inftant its most fecret thoughts
Are founding in his ear:

Difpute you this? Oh! ftand in awe,
And ceafe your forrow; know,
That tears now trickling down, He saw
Ten thousand years ago;

And twice ten thoufand hence, if you
Your temper reconcile
To reafon's bound, will he behold
Your prudence with a fmile;
A fmile, which through eternity
Diffufes fo bright rays,
The dimmeft deifies e'en guilt,
If guilt, at laft, obeys:
Your guilt (for guilt it is to mourn,
When fuch a fovereign reigns)
Your guilt diminish; peace purfue;
How glorious peace in pains!

>

Here, then, your forrows ceafe; if not,
Think how unhappy they,
Who guilt increafe by ftreaming tears,
Which guilt hould wash away;
Of tears that gufh profuse restrain;
Whence burft thofe difmal fighs?
They from the throbbing breast of one
Strange truth!) moft happy rife;

}

Not angels (hear it, and exult!)
Enjoy a larger fhare

Than is indulg'd to you, and yours,
'Of God's impartial care;
Anxious for each, as if on each
His care for all was thrown;'
For all his care as abfolute,

As all had been but one,

And is He then fo near! fo kind!-
How little then, and great,
That riddle, man! O! let me gaze
At wonders in his fate;
His fate, who yesterday did crawl
A worm from darknefs deep,
And fhall, with brother-worins, beneath
A turf, to-morrow fleep;

How mean!-And yet, if well obey`d
His mighty Mafter's call,

The whole creation for mean man

Is doom'd a boon too fmall:

Too fmall the whole creation deem'd
For emmets in the daft!
Account amazing! yet most true;
My fong is bold, yet juft :
Man born for infinite, in whom

Nor period can destroy

The power, in exquifite extremes,
To fuffer, or enjoy;

Gihim earth's empire (if no more)
He's beggar'd, and undone !
Imprifon'd in unbounded space!
Benighted by the fun!

For what the fun's meridian's blaze
To the most feeble ray

Which glimmers from the diftant dawn
Of uncreated day?

'Tis not the Poet's rapture feign'd
Swells here, the vain to please ;'
The mind moft fober kindles moft
At truths fublime as these;

They warm e'en me.-I dare not say,
Divine ambition Arove

Not to blefs only, but confound,
Nay, fright us with its love;
And yet fa frightful what, or kind,
As that the ending rock,
The darken'd fun, and rifing dead,
So formidable fpoke?

And are we darker than that fun?

Than rocks more hard, and blind?
We are? if not to fuch a God

In agonies refign'd.
Yes, e'en in agonies forbear
To doubt almighty love;
Whate'er endears eternity,
Is mercy from above;

What most embitters time, that moft

Eternity endears,

And thus, by plunging in distress, Exalts us to the fpheres:

Joy's fountain head! where blifs o'er blifs

O'er wonders wonders rife,
And an Omnipotence prepares
Its banquet for the wife:

Ambrofial banquet! rich in wines
Nectareous to the foul!

What tranfports fparkle from the stream,
As angels fill the bowl!

Fountain profufe of every blifs!
Good-will immenfe prevails;
Man's line can't fathom its profound;
An angel's plummet fails.

Thy love and might, by what they know,
Who judge, nor dream of more;
They afk a drop, how deep the fea!
One fand, how wide the hore!
Of thy exuberant good-will,
Offended Deity!

The thoufandth part who comprehends,
A deity is He.

How yonder ample azure field

With radiant worlds is fown!
How tubes aftonifh us with those
More deep in æther thrown!

And thofe beyond of brighter worlds
Why not a million more ?-

In lieu of anfwer, let us all

Fall proftrate, and adore.

Since thou art infinite in power,

Nor thy indulgence lefs;

Since man, quite impotent and blind,
Oft drops into diftrefs;

Say, what is Refignation? "Tis
Man's weakness understood;
And wisdom grafping, with an hand
Far ftronger, every good.
Let rash repiners stand appall'd,
In Thee who dare not truft;
Whofe abject fouls, like demons dark,
Are murmuring in the duft;
For man to murmur, or repine
At what by Thee is done,

No lefs abfurd, than to complain
Of darkness in the fun.

Who would not, with an heart at ease,

Bright eye, unclouded brow,

Wifdom and goodness at the helm,
The rougheft ocean plough?

What, though I'm fwallow'd in the deep?
Though mountains o'er me roar?

Jehovah reigns as Jonah fafe,

I'm landed, and adore:

Thy will is welcome, let it wear

Its most tremendous form;

Not lefs compell'd by Reason's call,
To Thee our fouls afpire,
Than to thy fkies, by nature's law,
High mounts material fire;

To Thee afpiring they exult,
I feel my fpirits rise,

I feel myself thy fon, and pant
For patrimonial skies;

Since ardent thirst of future good,
And generous fenfe of paft,
To Thee man's prudence strongly ties,
And binds affection fast;

Since great thy love, and great our want,
And men the wifeft blind,

And blifs our aim; pronounce as all
Distracted, or refign'd;

Refign'd through duty, interest, shame;
Deep fhame! dare I complain,

When (wondrous Truth!) in heaven itself
Joy ow'd its birth to pain?

And pain for me! for me was drain'd
Gall's overflowing bowl;

And shall one drop to murmur bold
Provoke my guilty foul?

If pardon'd this, what cause, what crime
Can indignation raise ?

The fun was lighted up to fhine,

And man was born to praise;

And when to praife the man fhall ceafe,
Or fun to ftrike the view;

A cloud dishonours both; but man's
The blacker of the two:

For oh! Ingratitude how black!
With must profound amaze

At love, which man belov'd o'erlooks,
Aftonish'd angels gaze,

Praife chears, and warms, like generous wine
Praife, more divine than prayer;
Prayer points our ready path to heaven;
Praife is already there,

Let plaufive Refignation rife,
And banish all complaint;
All virtues thronging into one,
It finishes the faint;

Makes the man blefs'd, as man dan be;
Life's labours renders light;

Darts beams through fate's incumbent gloom,
And lights our fun by night;

'Tis nature's brightest ornament,
The richest gift of grace,
Rival of angels, and fupreme
Proprietor of peace;

Nay, peace beyond, no fmall degree

Of rapture 't will impart ;

Can't fave me by a storm.

From Thee immortal fpirits born, To Thee, their fountain, flow.

If wife; as curl'd around to theirs Meandring ftreams below:

"All heaven is in your heart."

But who to heaven their hearts can raise?

Deny'd'divine support,

All virtue dies; fupport divine

The wife with ardour court;

When

When prayer partakes the feraph's fire,

'Tis mounted on his wing,

Burits through heaven's cryital gates, and gains Sure audience of its King:

The labouring foul from fore diftrefs

That blefs'd expedient frees;

I fee you far advanc'd in peace;
I fee you on your knees:

How on that pofture has the beam

Divine for ever fhone!

An humble heart, God's other feat!
The rival of his throne:

And stoops Omnipotence fo low!
And condefcends to dwell,
Eternity's inhabitant,

Well pleas'd, in fuch a cell?
Such honour how fhall we repay?
How treat our guest divine?
The facrifice fupreme be flain!
Let felf-will die: Refign.
Thus far, at large, on our disease ;
Now let the cause be shown,
Whence rifes, and will ever rife,
The difmal human groan:
What our fole fountain of distress?
Strong paffion for this scene;
That trifies make important, things
Of mighty moment mean:

When earth's dark maxims poison shed

On our polluted fouls,

Our hearts and interefts fly as far

Afunder, as the poles;

Like princes in a cottage nurs'd,
Unknown their royal race,
With abject aims, and fordid joys,
Our grandeur we difgrace;
O! for an Archimedes new,

Of moral powers poffefs'd,
The world to move, and quite expel
That traitor from the breast.

No fmall advantage may be reap'd

From thought whence we defcend; From weighing well, and prizing weigh'd Our origin, and end:

From far above the tifing fun

To this dim fcene we came; And may, if wife, for ever balk,

In great Jehovah's beam :

Let that bright beam on Reafon rouz'd
In aweful luftre rife,
Earth's giant-ills are dwarf'd at once,
And all difquiet dies.
Earth's glories too their splendour lose,
Thofe phantoms charm no more;
Empire's a feather for a fool,

And Indian mines are poor:
Then levell'd quite, whilst yet alive,
The monarch and his flave;
Not wait enlighten'd minds to learn
That leffon from the grave:
*Ifaiah, Ivii. 15.

A George the Third would then be low
As Lewis in renown,

Could he not boast of glory more
Than fparkles from a crown.
When human glory rifes high
As human glory can ;

When, though the King is truly great,
Still greater is the Man;

The man is dead, where virtue fails;
And though the Monarch proud
In grandeur fhines, his gorgeous robe
Is but a gaudy fhroud.

Wisdom! where art thou? None on earth,
Though grafping wealth, fame, power,
But what, O death! through thy approach,
Is wifer every hour;

Approach how swift, how unconfin'd!
Worms feast on viands rare,
Thofe little epicures have kings
To grace their bill of fare:

From kings what refignation due

To that almighty will,

Which thrones beftows, and, when they fail, Can throne them higher still?

Who truly great? The good and brave,

The mafters of a mind

The will divine to do refolv'd,

To fuffer it refign'd.

Madam! if that may give it weight,
The trifle you receive

Is dated from a folemn scene,
The border of the grave;

Where strongly frikes the trembling soul
Eternity's dread power,

As burfling on it through the thin
Partition of an hour;

Hear this, Voltaire! but this from me,
Runs hazard of your frown;
However, fpare it; ere you die
Such thoughts will be your own.
In mercy to yourself forbear
My notions to chaflife,
Left unawares the gay Voltaire
Should blame Voltaire the wife:
Fame's trumpet rattling in your ear,
Now, makes us difagree;
When a far louder trumpet sounds,
Voltaire will close with me:

How fhocking is that modefty,

Which keeps fome honest men
From urging what their hearts fuggeft,
When brav'd by folly's pen
Affaulting truths, of which in all

Is fown the facred feed!

Our conftitution's orthodcx,

And clofes with our creed:

What then are they, whofe proud conceits Superior wildom boast?

Wretches, who fight their own belief,

And labour to be lost!

Though

Though Vice, by no fuperior joys

Her heroes keeps in pay;
Through pure difinterested love
Of ruin they obey!

Strict their devotion to the wrong,
Though tempted by no prize;

Hard their commandments, and their creed
A magazine of lyes

From fancy's forge: gay fancy fmiles
At reafon plain, and cool;
Fancy, whofe curious trade it is
To make the finest fool.

Voltaire! long life's the greatest curfe
That mortals can receive,
When they imagine the chief end
Of living is to live;

Quite thoughtless of their day of death,
That birth-day of their forrow!

Knowing, it may be distant far,

Nor crush them till-to-morrow.

There are cold, northern thoughts, conceiv'd
Reneath an humble cot;

Not mine, your genius, or your fate,
No caftle is my lot:

But foon, quite level fhall we lie;
And, what pride moft bemoans,
Our parts, in rank fo distant now,
As level as our bones;

Hear you that found? Alarming found!
Prepare to meet your fate!,
One, who writes Finis to our works,
Is knocking at the gate;

Far other works will foon be weigh'd;
Far other judges fit;

Far other crowns be loft or won,
Than fire ambitious wit:

Their wit far brighteft will be prov'd,
Who funk it in good fenfe;

And veneration most profound
Of dread Omnipotence.

'Tis that alone unlocks the gate
Of bleft Eternity;

0! may'st thou thou never, never lofe
That more than ‡ golden key!
Whate'er may feem too rough excuse,
Your good I have at heart :
Since from my foul I wish you well;
As yet we must not part:
Shall you, and Is in love with life,
Life's future fchemes contrive,
The world in wonder not unjust,
That we are ftill alive?

What have we left? How mean in man

A fhadow's fhade to crave!

When life, fo vain! is vainer ftill, 'Tis time to take your leave:

Letter to Lord Lyttelton, Alluding to Pruffia.

Happier, than happieft life, is death,
Who falling in the field
Of conflict with his rebel will,
Writes Vici, on his fhield;

So falling man, immortal heir
Of an eternal prize;
Undaunted at the gloomy grave,
Defcends into the skies.

O! how diforder'd our machine,

When contradictions mix!

When nature ftrikes no less than twelve,
And folly points at fix!

To mend the moments of your heart,
How great is my delight

Gently to wind your morals up,-
And fet your hand aright!

That hand, which fpread your wisdom wide
To poifon diftant lands: -
Repent, recant; the tainted age
Your antidote demands;

To Satan dreadfully refign'd,
Whole herds rush down the fleep
Of fally, by lewd wits poffefs'd,
And perish in the deep.
Men's praife your vanity pursues ;
'Tis well, purfue it ftill;
But let it be of men deceas'd,
And you'll refign the will;
And how fuperior they to thofe
At whofe applause you aim;
How very far fuperior they

In number, and in name!

POSTSCRIPT.

THUS bave I written, when to write
No mortal fhould prefume;
Or only write, what none can blame,
Hic jacel-for his tomb:

The public frowns, and cenfures loud
My puerile employ;

Though just the cenfure, if you fmile,
The fcandal I enjoy ;

But fing no more-no more I fing
Or leaffume the lyre,

Unlefs vouchfaf'd an hamble part
Where Raphael leads the choir:
What myriads fwell the concert loud!
Their golden harps refound
High, as the footftool of the throne,
And deep, as hell profound;

Hell (horrid contraft!) chord and fong
Of raptur'd angels drowns

In felf-will's peal of blafphemies,

And hideous burst of groans;

But drowns them not to me; I hear
Harmonious thunders roll

(In language low of men to speak)
From echoing pole to pole !

While