O THOU, whofe word from folid darkness ftruck
That fpark, the fun; ftrike wisdom from my foul;
My foul, which flies to Thee, her truft, her treasure,
As mifers to their gold, while others reft.

Thro' this opaque of Nature, and of Soul,
This double night, tranfmit one pitying ray,
To lighten, and to chear. O lead my mind,
(A mind that fain would wander from its woe)
Lead it thro' various feenes of Life and Death;
And from each fcene, the nobleft truths infpire.
Nor less inspire my Conduct, than my Song ;
Teach my beft reason, reason; my best will
Teach rectitude; and fix my firm refolve
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear:
Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd
On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.

+

The bell ftrikes One. We take no note of time, But from its lofs. To give it then a tongue,

Is wife in man. As if an angel spoke,

I feel the folemn found. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours:

Where are they? With the years beyond the flood,
It is the fignal that demands difpatch:

How much is to be done? My hopes and fears
Start up alarm`d, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down-On what? A fathomless abyfs;
A dread eternity! how furely mine!
And can eternity belong to me,

Poor penfioner on the bounties of an hour?
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,

B 3

How

How complicate, how wonderful, is man?
How paffing wonder HE, who made him fuch?
Who centred in our make such strange extremes ?
From diff'rent natures marveloufly mixt,
Connexion exquifite of diftant worlds!
Diftinguifht link in being's endless chain !
Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
A beam ethereal, fully'd, and abforpt!-
Tho' fully'd, and dishonour'd, ftill divine!
Dim miniature of greatness abfolute !
An heir of glory! a frail child of duft!
Helpless immortal! infect infinite!

A worm! a god -I tremble at myself,
And in myself am loft! at home a stranger,
Thought wanders up and down, furpriz'd, aghaft,
And wond'ring at her own: How reafon reels?
O what a miracle to man is man,

Triumphantly diftrefs'd! what joy, what dread!
Alternately transported, and alarm'd!

What can preserve my life! or what destroy!
An angel's arm can't fnatch me from the grave;
Legions of angels can't confine me there.

'Tis paft conjecture; all things rife in proof:
While o'er my limbs fleep's foft dominion spread,
What tho' my foul phantaftic measures trod
O'er fairy fields; or mourn'd along the gloom
Of pathlefs woods; or down the craggy fteep
Hurl'd headlong, fwam with pain the mantled pool;
Or fcal'd the cliff; or danc'd on hollow winds,
With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain?

Her

Her ceafelefs flight, tho' devious, fpeaks her nature
Of fubtler effence than the trodden clod;
Active, aëreal, tow'ring, unconfin'd,
Unfetter'd with her grofs companion's fall.
Ev'n filent night proclaims my foul immortal:
Ev'n filent night proclaims eternal day.

For human weal, heav'n husbands all events;
Dull fleep inftructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain.
Why then their lofs deplore, that are not loft?
Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around,
In infidel diftrefs? Are Angels there?
Slumbers, rak'd up in duft, ethereal fire?

They live! they greatly live a life on earth
Unkindled, unconceiv'd; and from an eye
Of tenderness, let heav'nly pity fall
On me, more juftly number'd with the dead.
This is the defart, this the folitude:
How populous, how vital, is the grave!
This is creation's melancholy vault,
The vale funereal, the fad cyprefs gloom;
The land of apparitions, empty shades!
All, all on earth, is Shadow, all beyond
Is Subftance; the reverfe is folly's creed:
How folid all, where change fhall be no more?
This is the bud of being, the dim dawn,
The twilight of our day; the vestibule;
Life's theatre as yet is fhut, and death,

Strong death, alone can heave the maffy bar,
This grofs impediment of clay remove,
And make us embryos of existence free.

From real life, but little more remote

Is he, not yet a candidate for light,
The future embryo, flumb'ring in his fire.
Embryos we muft be, till we burft the shell,
Yon ambient azure fhell, and spring to life,
The life of gods, O tranfport! and of man.

Yet man, fool man! bere buries all his thoughts;
Interrs celeftial hopes without one figh.

Pris'ner of earth, and pent beneath the moon,
Here pinions all his wifhes; wing'd by heav'n
To fly at infinite; and reach it there,
Where Seraphs gather immortality,

On life's fair tree, faft by the throne of God.
What golden joys ambrofial cluft'ring glow,
In HIS full beam, and ripen for the juft,
Where momentary ages are no more!

Where time, and pain, and chance, and death expire!
And is it in the flight of threefcore years,
To push eternity from human thought,
And fmother fouls immortal in the duft?
A foul immortal, fpending all her fires,
Wafting her ftrength in ftrenuous idleness,
Thrown into tumult, raptur'd, or alarm'd,
At aught this fcene can threaten or indulge,
Refembles ocean into tempeft wrought,
To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Where falls this cenfure? It o'erwhelms myself;
How was my heart incrusted by the world!
O how felf-fetter'd was my grov'ling foul!
How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round

In filken thought, which reptile Fancy spun,
Till darken'd Reafon lay quite clouded o'er
With foft conceit of endless comfort here,
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!
Night-vifions may befriend (as fung above) ::
Our waking dreams are fatal. How I dreamt
Of things impoffible? (Could fleep do more ?),
Of joys perpetual in perpetual change?
Of ftable pleafures on the toffing wave?
Eternal funfhine in the ftorms of life?
How richly were my noon-tide trances hung
With gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys?
Joy behind joy, in endless perfpective! ·
Till at death's toll, whofe reflefs iron tongue:
Calls daily for his millions at a meal,
Starting I woke, and found myself undone.
Where now my phrenzy's pompous furniture
The cobweb'd cottage, with its ragged wall
Of mould'ring mud, is royalty to me!
The Spider's most attenuated thread
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie

On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze
O ye bleft fcenes of permanent delight!
Full, above measure! lafting, beyond bound?:
A perpetuity of bliss is blifs.

Could you, fo rich in rapture, fear an end,
That ghaftly thought would drink up all your joy,
And quite unparadife the realms of light.
Safe are you lodg'd above these rolling fpheres, .
The baleful influence of whofe giddy dance