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What mean 1 by thy Fall?—Thou'lt shortly see, While Pleasure's Nature is at large display'd; Already sung her Origin, and Ends. Those glorious Ends, by Kind, or by Degree, When Pleasure viclates, 'tis then a Vice, And Vengeance too ; it hastens into Pain. From due Reireshment, Life, Health, Reason, Joy ; From wild Excess, Pain, Grief, Distraction, Death; Heav'n's Justice this proclaims, and that her Love. What greater Evil can I wish my Foe, Than his full Draught of Pleasure, from a Cask Unbroach'd by just Authority, ungaug’d By Temperance, by Reefon unrefin’d? A thousand Lemons lurk within the Lee. Heav'n, Others, and Ourselves ! Uninjur’d These, Drink deep; the deeper, then, the more Diviné; Angels are Angels from Indulgence there ; 'Tis Unrepenting Pleasure makes a God.

Doft think thyself a God from other Joys ? A Victim rather! shortly sure to bleed. The Wrongmust mourn: Can Heav'n's Appointment fail? Can Man outwit Omnipotence ? strike out A Self-wrought Happiness unmeant by Him Who made Us, and the World we would enjoy ? Who forms an Instrument, ordains from whence Its Diffonance, or Harmony, shall rise. Heav'n bid the Soul this mortal Frame inspire ;


Bid Virtue's Ray divine inspire the Soul
With unprecarious Flows of vital Joy ;
And, without Breathing, Man as well might hope
For Life, as, without Piety, for Peace.

“ Is Virtue, then, and Piety the same ?”.. No; Piety is more ; 'tis Virtue's Source; Mother of ev'ry Worth, as That of Joy. Men of the World this Doctrine ill digest; They smile at Piety ; yet boast aloud Good-Will to Men; nor know, they strive to part What Nature joins; and thus confute Themselves. With Piety begins all Good on Earth ; 'Tis the First-born of Rationality Conscience, her first Law broken, wounded lies; Enfeebled, Lifeless, Impotent to Good; A feign'd Affection bounds her utmost Power. Some we can't love, but for th’ Almighty's Sake;' A Foe to God was ne'er true Friend to Man; Some sinister Intent taints all he does, And, in his Kindest Actions, he's Unkind.

On Piety, Humanity is built ; And, on Humanity, much Happiness ; And yet still more on Piety itself. A Soul in Commerce with her God, is Heaven; Feels not the Tumults and the Shocks of Life ; The Whirls of Passions, and the Strokes of Heart... A Deity believ'd, is Joy begun;

A Deity

A Deity ador'd, is Joy advanc’d;
A Deity belov’d, is Joy matur'd.
Each Branch of Piety Delight inspires; .
Faith builds a Bridge from This World to the Next,
O’er Death's dark Gulph, and all its Horror hides;
Praise, the sweet Exhalation of our Jov, .
That Joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
Pray'r ardent opens Heav'n, lets down a Stream
Of Glory on the confecrated Hour
Of Man, in Audience with the Deity."
Who worships the Great God, that Instant joins
The First in Heav'n, and fets his Foot on Hell,

Lorenzo! when wait Thou at Church before? Thou think'st the Service Long : But is it Just? Tho' Tust, Unwelcome: Thou hadft rather tread Unhallow'd Ground; the Muse, to win thine Ear, Must take an Air less Solemn : She complies. Good Conscience ! at the Sound the World retires; Verse disaffects it, and LORENZO smiles; Yet has she her Seraglio full of Charms; And such as Age shall Heighten, not Impair. Art thou dejected ? Is thy Mind o'ercast ? Amid her Fair Ones, thou the Fairest chuse, To chase thy Gloom.—“Go, fix fome weighty Trutb; « Chain down fome Passion ; do some genrous Good; “ Teach Ignorance to fee, or Grief to smile ; “ Correct thy Friend; befriend thy greatest Foe; « Or, with warm Heart, and Confidence divine,

. “ Spring


“Springup,and lay strongholdon Him who made Thee.”-Thy Gloom is scatter'd, sprightly Spirits flow; Tho’ wither'd is thy Vine, and Harp unstrung.

Doft call the Bowl, the Viol, and the Dance,
Loud Mirth, mad Laughter ? Wretched Comforters !
Physicians! more than Half of thy Disease.
Laughter, tho’ never censur’d yet as Sin
(Pardon a Thought that only seems severe),
Is half-immoral: Is it much indulg'd ? ..
By venting Spleen, or disipating Thought,
It shews a Scorner, or it makes a Fool; .
And fins, as hurting Others, or Ourselves.
'Tis Pride, or Emptiness, applies the Straw,
That tickles Little Minds to Mirth effuse;
Of Grief as impotent, portentous Sign!
The House of Laughter makes a House of Woe."
A Man triumphant is a Monstrous Sight;
A Man dejeeted is a Sight as Mean.
What Cause for Triumph, where such Ills abound?
What for Deje£tion, where presides a Power,
Who call’d us into Being to be Blest?
So grieve, as conscious Grief may rise to Joy;
So joy, as conscious Joy to Grief may fall.
Most true, a wise Man never will be sad;
But neither will sonorous, bubbling Mirth,
A shallow Stream of Happiness betray :
Too Happy to be Sportive, He's Serene.


· Yet wouldst thou laugh (but at thy own Expence),
This Counsel strange should I presume to give
“ Retire, and read thy Bible, to be Gay.”
There Truths abound of sov’reign Aid to Peace;
Ah! do not prize them less, because Inspir'd,
As Thou, and Thine, are apt and proud to do.
If not inspir'd, that pregnant Page had stood,
Time's Treasure ! and the Wonder of the Wise!
Thou think'st, perhaps, Thy Soul alone at Stake;
Alas !-Should Men mistake thee for a Fool;
What Man of Taste for Genius, Wisdom, Truth,
Tho' tender of thy Fame, could interpose ?
Believe me, Sense, here, acts a double Part,
And the true Critic is a Christian too.

But These, thou think'st, are gloomy Paths to Joy.True Joy in Sunshine ne'er was found at first ; They, first, Themselves offend, who greatly please; And Travel only gives us sound Repose. Heav'n sells all Pleasure; Effort is the Price; The Joys of Conquest, are the Joys of Man; And Glory the victorious Laurel spreads Oer Pleasure's pure, perpetual, placid Stream.

There is a Time, when Toil must be preferr'd,
Or Joy, by mis-tim'd Fondness, is undone.
A Man of Pleasure is a Man of Pains.
Thou wilt not take the Trouble to be Bleft,


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