I R'D nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep!

He, like the world, his ready vifit

pays

Where Fortune fmiles; the wretched he
forfakes:

Swift on his downy pinion flies from Woe,
And lights on lids unfully'd with a Tear.

From fhort (as ufual) and difturb'd Repose, I wake: How happy they who wake no more! Yet that were vain, if Dreams infeft the Grave. I wake, emerging from a fea of Dreams

Tumul

Tumultuous; where my wreck'd,defponding thought

From wave to wave of fancy'd Misery,

At random drove, her helm of Reason lost;

Tho' now restor'd, 'tis only Change of pain,
A bitter change; severer for severe :

The Day too fhort for my distress! and Night
Even in the Zenith of her dark Domain,
Is Sunshine, to the colour of my Fate.

Night, fable Goddess! from her Ebon throne, In raylefs Majefty, now ftretches forth

Her leaden Scepter o'er a flumbering world:
Silence, how dead? and Darkness how profound?

Nor Eye, nor lift'ning Ear an Object finds;
Creation fleeps. 'Tis, as the general Pulse
Of Life ftood still, and Nature made a Pause

An aweful paufe! prophetic of her End.
And let her prophecy be foon fulfill'd;

Fate! drop the Curtain; I can lofe no more.

Silence,

Silence, and Darkness! folemn Sifters! Twins From antient Night, who nurse the tender Thought

To Reafon, and on Reafon build Refolve,

(That column of true Majefty in Man)

Affift me: I will thank you in the Grave;

The grave, your Kingdom: There this frame fhall

A victim facred to your dreary fhrine.

But what are Ye? Thou, who didit put to flight Primæval Silence, when the Morning-Stars

Exulting, fhouted o'er the rifing Ball;

fail

O thou! whofe Word from folid Darkness ftruck That fpark, the Sun; ftrike Wisdom from my foul; My foul which flies to thee, her Trust, 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

Lead it thro' various scenes of Life and Death,

And from each scene, the nobleft Truths inspire:
Nor less infpire my Conduct, than my Song;
Teach my best Reason, Reafon; my best Will
Teach Rectitude; and fix my firm Refolve
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long Arrear.
Nor let the Vial of thy Vengeance pour'd

On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.

The Bell strikes 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 Sound. If heard aright,

It is the Knell of my departed Hours ;
Where are they? with the Years beyond the Flood:
It is the Signal that demands Dispatch;

How Much is to be done? my Hopes and Fears

1

Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow Verge

Look down-----on what? a fathomlefs Abyss;

A

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 auguft? How complicate? how wonderful is man?

How paffing wonder He, who made him fuch? Who center'd in our make fuch strange Extremes? From different Natures, marvelously mixt, Connection exquifite of distant Worlds! Distinguisht Link in Being's endless Chain! Midway from Nothing to the Deity!

A Beam etherial fully'd, and absorpt!

Tho' fully'd, and dishonour'd, ftill Divine!

Dim Miniature of Greatness abfolute !

An Heir of Glory! a frail Child of Dust!
Helpless Immortal! Infect infinite!

A Worm! a God! I tremble at myself,
And in myself am loft! At home a Stranger,

Thought