Thought wanders up and down, furpriz'd, aghaft,
And wond'ring at her own: How Reason reels?
O what a Miracle to man is Man,

Triumphantly diftrefs'd? what Joy, what Dread?
Alternately tranfported and alarm'd!

What can preserve my Life? or what deftroy?
An Angel's arm can't snatch 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 Sleep's foft dominion spread,
What, tho' my Soul phantastic Measures trod,
O'er Fairy Fields; or mourn'd along the gloom
Of pathlefs Woods: or down the craggy Steep
Hurl'd headlong, wam 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 ceafelef Flight, tho' devious, fpeaks her Nature
Of fubtler Effence than the trodden Clod;
Active, aërial, tow'ring, unconfin'd,
Unfetter'd with her grofs Companion's fall:
Ev'n filent Night proclaims my Soul immortal:
Ev'n filent Night proclaims eternal Day:
For human weal, Heav'n hufbands all events,
Dull fleep inftructs, nor fport vain Dreams in vain.
Why then their Lofs deplore, that are not lost?
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 Defert, this the Solitude:
How populous? how vital, is the Grave?
This is Creation's melancholy Vault,
The Vale funereal, the fad Cypress gloom;

The

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 shall 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 Sire..
Embryos we must be, till we burst the Shell,,
Yon ambient, azure fhell, and spring to Life,
The life of Gods: O Transport! and of Man.

:

Yet man, fool man! here burys all his Thoughts; Inters celeftial Hopes without one Sigh:

Pris'ner of Earth, and pent beneath the Moon,
Here pinions all his Wishes; 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 ought this scene can threaten, or indulge,,
Refembles Ocean into Tempeft wrought,
To waft a Feather, or to drown a Fly.
A 5

Where

Where falls this Cenfure? It o'erwhelms myself.
How was my Heart encrufted by the World?
O how self-fetter'd was my groveling Soul?
How, like a Worm, was I wrapt round and round
In filken thought, which reptile Fancy fpun,
Till darken'd Reafon lay quite clouded o'er
With foft conceit of endlefs 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 Sleep do more ?)
Of Joys perpetual in perpetual Change?
Of stable Pleasures on the toffing Wave?
Eternal Sunshine in the Storms of life?
How richly were my noon-tide Trances hung
With gorgeous Tapestries of pictur'd joys?
Joy behind joy, in endless perspective!
Till at Death's Toll, whose restless Iron tongue
Calls daily for his Millions at a meal,
Starting I woke, and found myself undone.
'Where's now my Frenzy'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 Bliís; it breaks at every Breeze.
O ye bleft scenes of permanent Delight!
Full, above meafure! lafting, beyond bound?
A Perpetuity of Blifs, 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 Spheres;
The baleful influence of whose giddy Dance
Sheds fad Viciffitude on all beneath.

Here teems with Revolutions every Hour ;

And

And rarely for the better; or the best,

More mortal than the common births of Fate.
Each Moment has its Sickle, emulous

Of Time's enormous Scythe, whofe ample Sweep
Strikes Empires from the root; each Moment plays
His little weapon in the narrower sphere

Of sweet domeftick Comfort, and cuts down
The fairest bloom of fublunary Blifs.

Blifs fublunary Blifs! proud words! and vain: Implicit Treason to divine Decree!

A bold invafion of the rights of Heaven!
I clafp'd the Phantoms, and I found them.Air.
O had I weigh'd it e'er my fond Embrace!
What darts of Agony had mifs'd my heart?
Death! Great Proprietor of all! 'tis thine

To tread out Empire, and to quench the Stars;
The Sun himself by thy permiffion shines ;

And, one day, thou fhalt pluck him from his sphere
Amid fuch mighty plunder, why exhauft

Thy partial Quiver on a mark fo mean?
Why, thy peculiar Rancor wreck'd on me?
Infatiate Archer! could not One fuffice?

Thy shaft flew thrice; and thrice my peace was flain ;
And thrice, e'er thrice yon Moon had fill'd her Horn
O Cynthia! why fo pale? Doft thou lament

Thy wretched Neighbour? Grieve, to fee thy wheel
Of ceafelefs change outwhirl'd in human Life?
How wanes my borrow'd bliss? from Fortune's fmile,
Precarious Courtefy! not Virtue's fure,
Self-given, folar, ray of found Delight.

In every vary'd Pofture, Place, and Hour,
How widow'd every Thought of every Joy!'
Thought, bufy Thought! too bufy for my Peace!
Thro' the dark Postern of Time long elaps'd,
Led foftly, by the ftillness of the Night,
Led, like a Murderer, (and fuch it proves!)

Strays,

Strays, wretched Rover! o'er the pleafing Pafts
In queft of wretchedness perversely strays;
And finds all Defert now; and meets the Ghosts
Of my departed Joys, a numerous Train!
I rue the Riches of my former Fate ;
Sweet Comfort's blafted Clufters I lament;
I tremble at the Bleffings once fo dear;
And every Pleasure pains me to the Heart.
Yet why complain? or why complain for One?
Hangs out the Sun his Luftre but for Me?
The fingle Man? are Angels all befide ?
I mourn for Millions: 'tis the common Lot;
In this fhape, or in that, has Fate entail'd
The Mother's throes on all of woman born,
Not more the Children, than fure Heirs of Pain.
War, Famine, Peft, Volcano, Storm, and Fire,
Inteftine Broils, Oppreffion, with her heart
Wrapt up in triple Brafs, befiege mankind:
God's Image, difinherited of Day,

Here, plung'd in Mines, forgets a Sun was made;
There, Beings deathless as their haughty Lord,
Are hammer'd to the galling Oar for life;
And plough the Winter's wave, and reap Defpair:
Some, for hard Mafters, broken under Arms,
In battle lopt away, with half their limbs,
Beg bitter bread thro' realtas their Valour fav'd,
If fo the Tyrant, or his Minion, doom:
Want, and incurable Disease, (fell Pair !)
On hopeless Multitudes remorfeless seize
At once; and make a Refuge of the Grave:
How groaning Hofpitals eject their Dead?
What numbers groan for fad Admiffion there?
What numbers once in Fortune's lap high-fed,
Solicit the cold hand of Charity?

To fhock us more, folicit it in vain ?
Ye filken Sons of Pleafure! fince in Pains

You