Is liberty; a flight into his arms, Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way, Chains are the portion of revolted man, 580 585 Careless of their Creator. And that low And sordid gravitation of his pow'rs To a vile clod, so draws him, with such force Resistless from the centre he should seek, 590 That he at last forgets it. All his hopes Tend downward; his ambition is to sink, To reach a depth profounder still, and still 595 600 Fortune, and dignity; the loss of all That can ennoble man and make frail life, Short as it is, supportable. Still worse, Far worse than all the plagues with which his sins 606 Ages of hopeless mis'ry. Future death, And death still future. Not a hasty stroke, Like that which sends him to the dusty grave: 610 Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears: What none can prove a forgery, may be true; What none but bad men wish exploded, must. Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst 615 Falls first before his resolute rebuke, And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd. Peace ensues, But spurious and short liv'd: the puny child 621 Of self-congratulating Pride, begot On fancied innocence. Again he falls, And fights again; but finds, his best essay Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now 625 630 "Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, 635 And stor❜d the earth so plenteously with means To gratify the hunger of his wish; And doth he reprobate, and will he damn And gesture, they propound to our belief? Nay-Conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice 640 645 651 The unequivocal, authentick deed, We find sound argument, we read the heart." Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong T'excuses in which reason has no part) Serve to compose a spirit well inclin'd To live on terms of amity with vice, Often urg'a, (As often as, libidinous discourse Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes 656 660 Of theological and grave import,) They gain at last his unreserv'd assent; Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge 665 He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing moves, Or nothing much, his constancy in ill; Vain tamp'ring has but foster'd his disease; 'Tis desp❜rate, and he sleeps the sleep of death. Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear 670 How lovely, and the moral sense how sure, Directly to the first and only fair. 675 Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the pow'rs 680 685 690 As if, like him of fabulous renown, They had indeed ability to smooth The shag of savage nature, and were each Is work for Him that made him. He alone, 695 Trivial and worthy of disdain, achieves 700 In the lost kind, extracting from the lips Of asps their venom, overpow'ring strength Patriots have toil'd, and, in their country's cause Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, 705 Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historick muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 710 715 The sweets of liberty and equal laws; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed In confirmation of the noblest claim 720 Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies. Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown, 725 And chas'd them up to Heaven. Their ashes flew And history, so warm on meaner themes, He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, green withes. 730 735 740 His are the mountains, and the valleys his, But who, with filial confidence inspir'd, 745 Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say-"My Father made them all!” Are they not his by a peculiar right, And by an emphasis of int'rest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 750 Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love, That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world 755 So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man? *Sec Hume. 760 |