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in states, 't is dangerous; in religion, death: | The clotted hair! gor'd breast! blaspbeming eye! Shall wit turn Christian, when the dull believe ? Its impious fury still alive in death! Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume;

Shut, shut the shocking scene.—But Heaven denies The plume exposes, 't is our helmet saves.

A cover to such guilt; and so should man. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; Look round, Lorenzo! see the reeking blade, When cut by uit, it casts a brighter beam;

Th' envenom'd phial, and the fatal ball ;
Yet, uit apart, it is a diamond still.

The strangling cord, and sufiocating stream;
Wit, widow'd of good sense, is worse than nought; The loathsome ruttendess, and foul decays
It boists more sail to run against a rock.

From raging riot (slower suicides!)
Thus, a half-Chesterfield is quite a fool;

And pride in these, more execrable still ! Whom dull fools scorn, and bless their want of wit. How horrid all to thought !--But horreurs, these, How ruinous the rock I warn thee, shun,

That vouch the truth; and aid my feeble song. Where Syrens sit, to sing thee to thy fate!

From vice, sense, fancy, po inan can be blest: A joy, in which our reason bears no part,

Bliss is leo great, to lodge within an hour : Is but a sorrow tickling, ere it stings.

When an imuortal being aims at bliss, Let not the cooings of the world allure thee; Duration is essential to the name. Which of her lovers ever found ber true ?

O for a joy from reason! joy from that, Happy ! of this bad world who little know?

Which makes man man; and, exercisid aright, And yet, we much must know her, to be safe. Will make him more: a bounteous joy! that gives, To know the world, not love her, is thy point; | And promises ; that weaves, with art divine, She gives but little, nor that little, long.

The richest prospect into present peace : There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse;

A joy ambitious! Joy in common beld A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy,

With thrones ethereal, and their greater far; Our thoughtless agitation's idle child,

A joy high-privileg'd from chance, time, death! That mantles high, that sparkles and expires, A joy, which death sball double, judgment crown! Leaving the soul more vapid than before.

Crown'd higher, and still bigher, at each stage, An animal oration such as holds

Through blest eternity's long day: yet still, No commerce with our reason, but subsists

Not more remote from sorrow, than from him, Onjuices, through the well-ton'd tubes, well strain'd; Whose lavish band, whose love stupendous, pours A nice machine! scarce ever tun'd aright;

So much of Deity on guilty dust. And when it jars--thy Syrens sing no more,

There, O my Lucia may I meet thee there, Thy dance is dope: the demi-god is thrown

1 Where not thy presence can improve my bliss! (Sbort apotheosis!) beneath the man.

Affects not this the sages of the world? In coward gloom immers'd, or fell despair. Can nought affect them, but what fools them too?

Art thou yet dull enough despair to dread, Eternity, depending on an hour, And startle at destruction? If thou art,

Makes serious thought man's wisdom, joy, and praise. Accept a buckler, take it to the field;

Nor need you blush (though sometimes your designs (A field of battle is this mortal life!)

May shun the light) at your designs on Heaven : Whep danger threatens, lay it on thy heart; Sole point! where over-bashful is your blame. A single sentence proof against the world;

Are you not wise ? —You know you are: yet hear Soul, body, fortune! every good pertain

One truth, amid your numerous schemes, mislaid, To one of these; but prize not all alike;

Or overlook'd, or thrown aside, if seen; The goods of fortune to the body's health,

“ Our schemes to plan by this world, or the nert, Bully to soul, and soul submit to God.”

Is the sole diiference between wise and fool.” Woukist thou build lasting happiness? Do this; All worthy men will weigh you in this scale; Tb' inverted pyramid can never stand.

What wonder then, if they pronounce you light? Is this truth doubtful > It outsbines the Sun; Is their esteem alone not worth your care? Nay the Sun shines not, but to show us this, Accept my simple scheme of common sense: Cosa. The single lesson of mankind on Earth.

Thus, save your fame, and make two worlds your And yet--yet, what? No news! mankind is mad; The world replies not ;-but the world persists; Such mighty numbers list against the right,

And puts the cause off to the longest day, (And what can't numbers, when bewitch'd, achieve!) Planning evasions for the day of doom. They talk themselves to something like belief, So far, at tbat re-hearing, from redress, That all Earth's joys are theirs : as Athens' fool They then turn witnesses against themselves : Grinn'd from the port, on every sail his own. Hear that, Lorenzo ! nor be wise to inortow. They grin; but wherefore? and how long the Haste, Haste! A man, by nature, is in hasie; laugh!

For who shall answer for another hour? Half ignorance, their mirth; and half, a lie; | 'T is highly prudent, to make one sure friend; Tocheat the world, and cheat themselves, they smile. And that thou canst not do, this side the skies. Hard either task! The most abandon's own,

Ye sons of Earth! (nor willing to be more !) That others, if abandon'd, are undone :

Since verse you think from priestcraft somewbat free, Then for themselves, the moment reason wakes, Thus, in an age so gay, the Muse plain truths (And Providence denies it long repose)

(Truths, which, at church, you might have beard O how laborious is their gaiety!

in prose) They scarce can swallow their ebollient spleen, Has veptur'd into light; well-pleas'd the verse Scarce muster patience to support the farce, Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ; And pump sad laughter till the curtain falls. And crown her with your welfare, not your praise. Scarce, did I say? Some cannot sit it out;

But praise she need not fear: I see my fate; Oft their own daring hands the curtain draw, And headlong leap, like Curtius, down the gulf. And show us what their joy, by their despair. Since many an ample volume, nighty tome,

ONE OF HIS

Must die ; and die unwept ; 0 thou minute, And tell me, hast thou cause to triumph still? Devoted page! go forth among thy foes;

I think, thou wilt forbear a boast so bold. Go nobly proud of martyrdom for truth,

But if, beneath the favour of mistake, And die a double death : mankind, incens'd, Thy smile's sincere; not more sincere can be Denies thee long to live: nor shalt thou rest Lorenzo's smile, than my compassion for him. When thou art dead; in Stygian shades arraign'd The sick in body call for aid ; the sick By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne,

In mind are covetous of more disease; [uell. And bold blasphemer of bis friend--the world; And when at worst, they dream themselves quite The world, whose legions cost him slender pay, To know ourselves diseas'd, is half our cure. And volunteers around his banner swarm;

When nature's blush by custoin is wip'd off, Prudent, as Prussja. iu her zeal for Gaul!

And conscience, deaden'd by repeated strokes, “ Are all, then, fools ?” Lorenzo cries-Yes, all, Has into manners naturaliz'd our crimes; But such as hold this doctrine (new to thee); The curse of curses is, our curse to love; “ The mother of true wisdom is the will ;" To triumph in the blackness of our guilt The noblest intellect, a fool without it.

(As Indians glory in the deepest jet), World-wisdom much baz done, and more may do, And throw aside our senses with our peace. In arts and sciences, in wars and peace ;

But grant no guilt, no shame, no least a Noy; But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee, Grant joy and glory quite unsully'd shone; And make thee twice a beggar at hy death. Yet, still, it ill deserves Lorenzo's heart. This is the most indulgence can afford;

No joy, no glory, glitters in thy sight, “ Thy wisdom all can do, but-make thee uise." But, through the thin partition of an hour, Nur think this censure is severe on thee:

I see its sables wove by destiny ;
Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce.

And that in sorrow buried; this, in shame;
While howling furies ring the doleful knell;

And conscience, now so soft thou scarce canst hear
NIGHT THE NINTH AND LAST. Her whisper, echoes her eternal peal.

Where, the priine actors of the last year's scene; THE CONSOLATION.

Their port so proud, their buskin, and their plume? CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS,

How many sleep, who kept the world awake 1. A Moral Survey of the NOCTURNAL Heavens.

With lustre, and with noise! has Death proclaim'd

A truce, and hung his sated lance on high? II. A NIGHT-ADDress to the DEITY.

'Tis brandish'd still; nor shall the present year HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO

Be more tenacious of her human leaf,

Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall.
HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE,
MAJESTY'S PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE.

But needless monuments to wake the thought;
Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality,

Though in a style more florid, full as plain,
Fatis contraria fata rependens.—VIRG. As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs.

What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths As when a traveller, a long day past

Turn'd fatterers of life, in paint or marble, In p:inful search of what he cannot find,

The well-stained canvass, or the featur'd stone ? At night's approach, content with the next cot, Our fathers grace, or rather baunt, the scene. There ruminatıs, a while, his labour lost; Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords, Profest diversions -cannot these escape ?". And chants his sopne to deceive the time,

Far from it: these present us with a shroud; Till the due season calls him to rep se:

And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. Thus I, long-travellid in the ways of men,

As some bold plunderers, for bury'd wealth, And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze, We ransack tombs for pastime; from the dust Where disappointment smiles at hope's career ; Call up the sleeping hero; bio him tread Warn’d by the languor of life's evening ray, The scene for our amusement: how like gods At length have bous'd me in an humble shed; We sit; and, wrapt in immortality, Where, future wandering banish'd from my thought, Shed generous tears on wretches born to die; And waiting, patient, the sweet bour of rest, Their fate deploring, to forget our own! I chase the moments with a serious song.

What all the pomps and triumphs of our lives, Song sooths our pains; and age bas pains to sooth. But legacies in blossom? Our lean soil, When age, care, crime, and friends embrac'd at Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities, heart,

From friends interr'd beneath; a rich manure! Torn from my bleeding breast, and death's dark Like other worms, we banquet on the dead; shade,

Like other worms, shall we crawl on, nor know Whicb hovers o'er me, quench th' ethereal fire ; Our present frailties, or approaching fate? Canst thou, O Night ! indulge one labour more? ' Lorenzo! such the glories of the world! One labour more indulge! then sleep, my strain! What is the world itself? Thy world—a grave. Till, baply, wak'd by Raphael's golden lyre, Where is the dust that has not been alive? Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow, The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors; To bear a part in everlasting lays; [cease; From human mould we reap our daily bread. Though far, far bigher set, in aim, I trust, The globe around Earth's hollow surface shakes, Symphonious to this humble prelude here. And is the cieling of her sleeping sons.

Has not the Muse asserted pleasures pure, O'er devastation we blind revels keep; Like those above; exploding other joys?

Whole bury'd towns support the dancer's heel. Weigh what was urg'd, Lorenzo! fairly weigh; The moist of human frame the Sun exhales ;

Winds scatter through the mighty void the dry; Par other firmament than e'er was seen.
Earth repossesses part of what she gave,

Than e'er was thought by man! far other stars!
And the freed spirit mounts on wings of fire; Stars animate, that govern these of fire;
Each element partakes our scatter'd spoils ; Far other sun !-A sun, O how unlike
As Nature, wide, our ruins spread : man's death The babe at Bethlem ! how unlike the man,
Inhabits all things, but the thought of man. That groan'd on Calvary !-Yet he it is;

Nor man alone; his breathing bust expires, That Man of Sorrows ! Ó how chang'd! what pomp! His tomb is mortal; empires die: where now, In grandeur terrible, all Heaven descends! The Roman? Greek? They stalk, an empty name! And gods, ambitious, triumph in his train. Yet few regard them in this useful light;

A swift archangel, with his golden wing, Though half our learning is their epitaph.

As blots and clouds, that darken and disgrace When down thy vale, unlock'd by midnight thought, The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. That loves to wander in tby sunless realms, And now, all dross remov'd. Heaven's own pure day, O Death! I stretch my view: what visions rise ! Full on the confines of our ether, fames. What triumphs ! toils imperial ! arts divine ! While (dreadful contrast !) far, how far beneath ! In wither'd laurels glide before my sight!

Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, What lengths of far-fam'd ages, billow'd high And storms sulphureous; her voracious jaws. With human agitation, roll along

Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. In unsubstantial images of air !

Lorenzo ! welcome to this scene; the last The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,

Nature's course; the first in wisdom's thought. Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause, This strikes, if aught can strike thee; this auakes With penitential aspect, as they pass,

The most supine; this snatches man from death. All point at Earth, and hiss at buman pride, Rouse, rouse, Lorenzo, then, and follow me, The wisdom of the wise, and prancings of the great. Where truth, the most momentous man can hear, But, O Lorenzo ! far the rest above,

Loud calls my soul, and ardour wings her flight. Of ghastly nature, and enormous size,

I find my inspiration in my theme; One forin assaults my sight, and chills my blood, The grandeur of my subject is my Muse. And shakes my frame. Of one departed world At midnight, when mankind is wrapt in peace, I see the mighty shadow : oozy wreath

And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams; And dismal sea-weed crown her; o'er her urn To give more dread to man's most dreadful hour, Reclin’d, she weeps her desolated realms,

At midnight, 't is presum'd this pomp will burst And bloated sons; and, weeping, prophesies From tenfold darkness; sudden as the spark Another's dissolution, soon, in flames.

From smitten steel; from nitrous grain, the blaze. But, like Cassandra, propbesies in vain;

Man, starting from bis couch,'shall sleep no more! In vain, to many; not, I trust, to thee.

T'he day is broke, which never more shall close! For, know'st thou not, or art thou loth to knou, Above, around, beneath, amazement all! The great decree, the counsel of the skies? Terrour and glory join'd in their extremes ! Deluge and conflagration, dreadful powers ! Our God in grandeur, and our world on fire ! Prime ministers of vengeance! cbain'd in caves All Nature struggling in the pangs of death! Disiinct, apart the giant furies roar;

Dost thou not hear her? Dost thou not deplore Apart; or, such their horrid rage for ruin, Her strong convulsions, and her final gruan? In mutual conflict would they rise, and wage Where are we now? Ab me! the ground is gone Eternal war, till one was quite devour'd.

Op which we stood; Lorenzo! while tbou may'st, But not for this, ordain'd their boundless rage; Provide more firm support, or sink for ever! When Heaven's inferior instruments of wrath, Where? How? From whence? Vaio hope! it is War, famine, pestilence, are found too weak

too late! To scourge a world for her enormous crimes, Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, These are let loose, alternate : down they rush, Whea consternation turns the good man pale ? Swift and tempestum, from th' eternal throne, Great day! for which all other days were made; Wi h irresistible commission arm'd,

For which Earth rose from chaos, man from Earth; The world, in vain corrected, to destroy,

And an eternity, the date of Gods, And ease creation of the shocking scene.

Descended on poor earth-created man ! Seest thou, Lorenzo! what depends on man? Great day of dread, decision, and despair! The fate of Nature; as for man, her birth.

At thought of thee, each sublunary wish Earth's actors change Earth's transitory scenes, Lets go its eager grasp, and drops the world; And make creation groan with human guilt. And catches at each reed of hope in Heaven. How must it groan, in a new deluge whelm'd, At thought of thee !--and art thou alsent then? But not of waters! at the destin'd hour,

Lorenzo ! no; 't is here; it is begun ;-
By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge, Already is begun the grand assize,
See, all the formidable sons of fire,

In thee, in all: deputed conscience scales Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom; Their various engines; all at once disgorge Forestalls; and, by forestalling, proves it sure. Their blazing magazines; and take, by storm, Why on himself should man void judgment pass? This poor terrestrial citadel of man.

Is idle Nature laughing at her sons ? Amazing period ! when each mountain-height Who conscience sent, her sentence will support, Out-burns Vesuvius; rocks eternal pour

And God above assert that god in man. Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd; Tbrice happy they! that enter now the court Stars rush ; and final ruin fiercely drives

Heaven opens in their bosoms : but, how rare, Her plowshare o'er creation !—while aloft, Ah me! that magnanimity, how rare ! • More than astonishment! if piore can be ! What hero, like the man who stands bimself,

Who dares to meet his naked heart alone;

He falls on his own scythe; nor falls alone ; Who hears intrepid, the full charge it brings, His greatest foe falls with him; Time, and be Resolvid to silence future murmurs there? Who murder'd all Time's offspring, Death, expire. The coward Alies; and, Aying, is undone.

Time was! Eternity now reigns alone! (Art thou a coward ? No:) the coward flies; Awful Eternity! offended queen! Thinks, but thinks slightly; asks, but fears to know ; And her resentment to mankind, how just! Asks, "What is truth ?» with Pilate; and retires; With kind intent, soliciting access, Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng; How often has she knock'd at human hearts! Asylum sad! from reason, hope, and Heaven! Rich to repay t'. r hospitality,

Shall all, but man, look out with ardent eye, How often call'd! and with the voice of God ! For that great day, which was ordain'd for man? Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat! O day of consummation! mark supreme

A dream ! while foulest foes found welcome there ! (If men are wise) of human thought! nor least, A dream, a cheat, now, all things, but her smile. Or in the sight of angels, or their King !

For, lo! her twice ten thousand gates thrown wide, Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height, As thrice from Indus to the frozen pole, Order o'er order, rising, blaze o'er blaze,

With banners streaming as the comet's blaze, As in a theatre, surround this scene,

And clarions, louder than the deep in storms, Intent on man, and anxious for his fate.

Sonorous as immortal breath cau blow, Angels look out for thee; for thee, their Lord, Pour forth their myriads, potentates, and powers, To vindicate bis glory; and for thee,

Of light, of darkness ; in a middle field, Creation universal calls aloud,

Wide, as creation ! populous, as wide ! To dis-involve the moral world, and give

A neutral region ! there to mark th' event To Nature's renovation brighter charms.

Of that great drama, whose preceding scenes Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate, Detain'd

them close spectators, through a length Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought? Of ages, ripening to this grand result; I think of nothing else; I see! I feel it!

Ages, as yet unnumber'd, but by God;
All Nature, like an earthquake, trembling round ! Who now pronouncing sentence, vindicates
All deities, like summer's swarms, on wing! The rights of virtue, and his own renown.
All basking in the full meridian blaze !

Eternity, the various sentence past,
I see the Judge enthron'd! the flaming guard ! Assigns the sever'd throng distinct abodes,
The volume open'd! open'd every heart !

Sulphureous, or ambrosial : what ensues
A sun-beam pointing out each secret thought; The deed predominant ! the deed of deeds!
No patron! intercessor none ! now past

Which makes a Hell of Heil, a Heaven of Heaven.
The sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour! The goddess, with determin’d aspect, turns
For guilt no plea! to pain, no pause! no bound ! Her adamantine key's enormous size
Inexorable, all! and all, e treme!

Through destiny's inextricable wards, Nor man alone; the foe of God and man, Deep driving every bolt, on both their fates. From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, Then, from the crystal battlements of Heaven, And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd: Down, down, she hurls it through the dark profound, Receives his sentence, and begins his hell.

Ten thousand thousand fathom; there to rust, All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace: And ne'er unlock her resolution more. Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll

The deep resounds; and Hell, through all her glooms, His baleful eyes; he curses whom he dreads; Returns, in groans, the melancholy roar. And deems it the first moment of his fall.

O how unlike the chorus of the skies ! 'Tis present to my thought!—and yet where is it? O how uplike those shouts of joy, that shake Angels can't tell me; angels cannot guess

The whole ethereal! How the concave rings!
The period; from created beings lock'd

Nor strange' when deities their voice exalt;
In darkness. But the process, and the place, And louder far, than when creation rose,
Are less obscure; for these may man inquire. To see creation's godlike aim, and end,
Say, thou great close of human hopes and fears! So well accomplish'd! so divinely clos'd!
Great key of hearts ! great finisher of fates! To see the mighty dramatist's last act
Great end ! and great beginning! say, Where art (As meet) in glory rising o'er the rest.
Art thou in time, or in eternity ?

[thou? No fancy'd god, a god indeed, descends, Nor in eternity, nor time, I find thee.

To solve all knots; to strike the morcl home; These, as two monarchs, on their borders meet, To throw full day on darkest scenes of time; (Monarchs of all elaps'd, or unarriv'd!)

To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. As in debate, how best their powers ally'd, Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise, May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath, The charm'd spectators thunder tbeir applause! Of him, whom both their monarchies obey. And the vast void beyond, applause resounds.

Time, this fast fabric for him built (and doom'd What then am 13With him to fall) now bursting o'er his head;

Amidst applauding worlds, His lamp, the Sun, extinguish’d; from bepeath And worlds celestial, is there found on Earth, The frown of hideous darkness, calls his sons A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, From their long slumber; from Earth's heaving Which jars on the grand chorus, and complains ? womb,

Censure on thee, Lorenzo! I suspend, To second birth! contemporary throng!

And turn it on myself ; how greatly due ! Rous'd at one call, upstarted from one bed, All, all is right, by God ordain'd or done; Prest in one crowd, appall’d with one amaze,

And who, but God, resum'd the friends he gave?. He turns them o'er, Eternity! to thee.

And have I been complaining, then, so long? Then (as a king depos'd disdains to live)

Complaining of his favours, pain, and death?

Who, without pain's advice, would e'er be good ? Ills? there are none :-Au-gracious! none frorn
Who, without death, but would be good in vain? From man full many ! numerous is the race (thee ;
Pain is to save from pain; all punishment, Of blackest ills, and those immortal too,
To make for peace; and death to save from death; Begot by madness on fair liberty;
And second death, to guard immortal life; Heaven's daughter, Hell-debauch'd! her hand alone
To rouse the careless, the presumptuous awe, Unlocks destruction to the sons of men,
And turn the tide of souls another way;

First barr'd by thine : high-wall'd with adamant, By the same tenderness divine ordain'd,

Guarded with terrours reaching to this world,
Tbat planted Eden, and higb-bloom'd for man, And cover'd with the thunders of thy law;
A fairer Eden, endless, in the skies.

Whose threats are mercies, whose injunctions, guides,
Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene; Assisting, not restraining, reason's choice;
Resumes them, to prepare us for the next.

Whose sanctions, unavoidable results All evils natural are moral goods;

From Nature's course, indulgently reveal'd; All discipline, indulgence, on the whole.

If unreveal'd, more dangerous, nor less sure. None are unhappy : all have cause to smile, Thus, an indulgent father warns his sons, But such as to themselves that cause deny. “Do this; fly that”—nor always tells the cause; Our faults are at the bottom of our pains ;

Pleas'd to reward, as duty to his will, Errour, in acts, or judgment, is the source

A conduct needful to their own repose. Of endless sighs : we sin, or we mistake;

Great God of wonders ! (if, thy love survey'd, And Nature tax, when false opinion stings.

Aught else the name of wonderful retains) Let impious grief be banish'd, joy indulg'd; What rocks are these, on wbich to build our trust! But chiefly then, when grief puts in her claim, Thy ways'admit no blemish ; none I find; Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays,

Or this alone-" That none is to be found.” Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe.

Not ove, to soften censure's hardy crime; Joy, amidst ills, corroborates, exalts;

Not one, to palliate peevish grief's complaint, Tis joy and conquest; joy, and virtue too.

Who like a demon, murmuring from the dust, A noble fortitude in ills, delights

Dares into judgment call her Judge.- Supreme! Heaven, Earth, ourselves; 't is duty, glory, peace. For all I bless thee; most, for the severe; Affliction is the good man's shining scene;

Her 12 death-my own at hand-the fiery gulf, Prosperity conceals his brightest rav;

That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent ! As night to stars, woe lustre gives to inan.

It thunders ;-but it thunders to preserve; Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm,

It strengthens what it strikes; its wholesome dread And virtue in calamities, admire;

Averts the dreaded pain; its hideous groans The crown of manhood is a winter-joy ;

Join Heaven's sweet hallelujahs in thy praise, An evergreen, that stands the northern blast, Great source of good alone! How kind in all ! And blossoms in the rigour of our fate.

In vengeance kind! pain, death, gehenna, save. T is a prime part of happiness, to know

Thus, in thy world material, Mighty Mind ! How much unhappiness must prove our lot ;

Not that alone which solaces, and shines, A part which few possess! I'll pay life's tax, The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise. Without one rebel murmur, from this hour, The winter is as needful as the spring ; Nor think it misery to be a man;

The thunder, as the Sun ; a stagnant mass
Who thinks it is, shall never be a God.

Of vapours breeds a pestilential air :
Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live. Nor more propitious the Favonian breeze
What spoke proud passion " Wish my being To Nature's health, than purifying storms;
losti?"

The dread volcano ministers to good. Presumptuous ! blasphemous ! absurd! and false! Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. The triumph of my soul is That I am ;

Loud Ætnas fulminate in love to man;
And therefore that I may be what? Lorenzo! Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd;
Look inward, and look deep; and deeper still; And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine.
Unfathomably deep our treasure runs

Man is responsible for ills receiv'd;
In golden veins, through all eternity!

Those we call uretched are a chosen band, Ages, and ages, and succeeding still

Compell’d to refuge in the right, for peace. New ages, where the phantom of an hour,

Amid my list of blessings infinite, Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repair, Stand this the foremost, “That my heart has bled." Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise. 'Tis Heaven's last effort of good-will to man; And fly through infinite, and all unlock;

When pain can't bless, Heaven quits us in despair. And (if deserv'd) by Heaven's redundant love, Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, Made half-adorable itself, adore;

Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest; And find, in adoration, endless joy!

Inhuman, or effemir:ate, his heart; Where thou, not master of a moment here,

Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends. Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale,

May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness, May'st boast a whole eternity, enrich'd

Till it bas taught him how to bear it well, With all a kind Omnipotence can pour.

By previous pain; and made it safe to smile! Since Adam fell, no mortal, uninspird,

Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain; Has ever yet conceiv'd, or ever shall,

Nor hazard their extinctions, from excess. How kind is God, how great (if good) is man. My change of heart a change of style demands; No man too largely from Heaven's love can hope, The consolation cancels the complaint, If what is hop'd he labours to secure.

And makes a convert of my guilty song.

u Referring to the First Night.

12 Lucia

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