Or Man the Grave furmounts, or Gain is Lofs,
And Worth exalted humbles us the more.

Thou wilt not patronize a Scheme that makes
Weakness, and Vice, the Refuge of Mankind.
"HAS Virtue, then, no Joys?" Yes, Joys dear-
bought.

Talk ne'er fo long, in this imperfect State,
Virtue, and Vice, are at eternal War ;

Virtue's a Combat; and who fights for Nought?
Or for precarious, or for small, Reward?
Who Virtue's felf-reward fo loud refound,
Would take Degrees Angelic here below,
And Virtue, while they compliment, betray,
feeble Motives, and unfaithful Guards;
The Crown, th' unfading Crown, her Soul inspires;
'Tis That, and That alone, can countervail

By

The Body's Treach'ries, and the World's Affaults:
On Earth's poor Pay, our famish'd Virtue dies.
Truth incontestable! In spite of all

A BAYLE has preach'd, or a V-E Believ'd.
IN Man the more we dive, the more we fee
Heav'n's Signet stamping an immortal Make.
Dive to the Bottom of his Soul, the Base
Sustaining all; what find we? Knowledge, Love:
As Light, and Heat, effential to the Sun,
Thefe, to the Soul. And why, if Souls expire?
How little Lovely here? How little Known?
Small Knowledge we dig up with endless Toil;
And Love, unfeign'd, may purchase perfect Hate.
Why ftarv'd, on Earth, our Angel-Appetites ;
While Brutal are indulg'd their fulfome Fill?
Were then Capacities divine conferr'd,
As a Mock-diadem, in falvage Sport,
Rank Infult of our pompous Poverty,

Which reaps but Pain, from feeming Claims fo fair?
In future Age lies no Redrefs? And fhuts

Eternity

Eternity the Door on our Complaint?

If so, for what strange Ends were Mortals made!
The Worft to wallow, and the Beft to weep;
The Man, who Merits moft, muft moft Complain :
Can we conceive a Difregard in Heaven,
What the Worst perpetrate, or Best endure ?

This cannot be. To Love, and Know, in Man
Is boundless Appetite, and boundless Pow'r ;
And these demonftrate boundless Objects too.
Objects, Pow'rs, Appetites, Heav'n fuits in all
Nor, Nature thro', e'er violates this fweet,
Eternal Concord, on her tuneful String.
Is Man the fole Exception from her Laws?
Eternity ftruck off from human Hope,
(I speak with Truth, but Veneration too)
Man is a Monster, the Reproach of Heav'n,
A Stain, a dark impenetrable Cloud

On Nature's beauteous Afpect; and deforms,
(Amazing Blot!) deforms her with her Lord.
If fuch is Man's Allotment, what is Heav'n?
Or, own the Soul Immortal, or Blafpheme.

OR own the Soul Immortal, or invert
All Order. Go, mock-Majefty! go, Man!
And bow to thy Superiors of the Stall;
Thro' ev'ry Scene of Senfe fuperior far:

They graze the Turf untill'd; they drink the Stream
Unbrew'd, and ever full, and un-embitter'd

With Doubts, Fears, fruitless Hopes, Regrets, Defpairs,
Mankind's Peculiar! Reafon's precious Dow'r !
No foreign Clime They ranfack for their Robes;
Nor Brothers cite to the litigious Bar;
Their Good is Good entire, unmix'd, unmarr’d;
They find a Paradise in ev'ry Field,

On Boughs forbidden, where no Curses hang;
Their Ill, no more than ftrikes the Sense; unftretcht
By previous Dread, or Murmur in the Rear;

When

When the Worft comes, it comes unfear'd; one Stroke *
Begins, and ends, their Woe: They die but once ; ·
Bleft, incommunicable Privilege! for which,
Proud Man, who rules the Globe, and reads the Stars,
Philofopher, or Hero, fighs in vain.

ACCOUNT for this Prerogative in Brutes,

No Day, no Glimpse of Day to folve the Knot,
But what beams on it from Eternity.

O fole, and sweet Solution! that unties
The Difficult, and softens the Severe ;

The Cloud on Nature's beauteous Face difpels;
Reftores bright Order; cafts the Brute beneath;
And re-inthrones us in Supremacy.

Of Joy, ev'n Here: Admit immortal Life,
And Virtue is Knight-errantry no more;
Each Virtue brings in Hand a golden Dow'r,
Far richer in Reversions: Hope exults;
And tho' much Bitter in our Cup is thrown,
Predominates, and gives the Taste of Heav'n.
O wherefore is the DEITY fo kind?
Aftonishing beyond Aftonishment!

Heav'n our Reward-for Heav'n enjoy'd below.
STILL unfubdu'd thy ftubborn Heart? For there
The Traitor lurks, who doubts the Truth I fing.
Reafon is guiltless; Will alone rebels.
What, in that ftubborn Heart, if I fhould find
New, unexpected Witneffes against thee?
Ambition, Pleafure, and the Love of Gain!

Can'ft thou fufpect that Thefe, which make the Soul
The Slave of Earth, should own her Heir of Heav'n ?

Can't thou fufpect, what makes us difbelieve

Our Immortality, fhould prove it fure?
FIRST, then, Ambition summon to the Bar,
Ambition's Shame, Extravagance, Difguft,
And inextinguishable Nature, fpeak.

Each much depofes; hear them in their Turn.

ΤΗΣ

THY Soul, how paffionately fond of Fame?"
How anxious, that fond Paffion to conceal?
We blush detected in Designs and Praise,
Tho' for beft Deeds, and from the beft of Men;
And why? Because Immortal. Art divine
Has made the Body Tutor to the Soul ;-
Heav'n kindly gives our Blood a moral Flow;
Bids it afcend the glowing Cheek, and there
Upbraid that little Heart's inglorious Aim,
Which floops to court a Character from Man;
While o'er us, in tremendous Judgment, fit

Far more than Man, with endless Praise, and Blame.
AMBITION's boundless Appetite out-speaks

The Verdict of its Shame. When Souls take Fire
At high Prefumptions of their own Defert,
One Age is poor Applause; the mighty Shout,.

The Thunder by the living Few begun,

Late Time muft echo; Worlds unborn, refound:-
We wish our Names eternally to live.

Wild Dream! which ne'er had haunted human Thought,
Had not our Natures been eternal too.

Inftinct points out an Int'rest in Hereafter ;
But our blind Reason fees not where it lies ;
Or, seeing, gives the Subftance for the Shade.
Fame is the Shade of Immortality,

And in itself a Shadow. Soon as caught,..
Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the Grafp.
Confult th' Ambitious; 'tis Ambition's Cure.
"And is this all?" cry'd Cæfar at his Height,
Difgufted. This Third Proof Ambition brings.
Of Immortality. The firft in Fame,
Observe him near, your Envy will abate:
Sham'd at the Difproportion vaft, between
The Paffion, and the Purchase, he will figh
At fuch Succefs, and blush at his Renown.
And why? Because far richer Prize invites

His Heart; far more illustrious Glory calls;
It calls in Whispers, yet the Deafeft hear.

AND can Ambition a Fourth Proof supply?
It can, and ftronger than the former Three;
Yet quite o'erlook'd by fome reputed Wife.
Tho' Difappointments in Ambition pain,
And tho' Succefs difgufts, yet ftill, LORENZO !
In vain we strive to pluck it from our Hearts;
By Nature planted for the nobleft Ends.
Abfurd the fam'd Advice to Pyrrhus giv'n,
More prais'd than ponder'd, specious, but unfound:
Sooner that Hero's Sword the World had quell'd,
Than Reason his Ambition. Man must foar;
An obftinate Activity within,

An infuppreffive Spring, will tofs him up
In fpite of Fortune's Load. Not Kings alone,
Each Villager has his Ambition too,

No Sultan prouder than his fetter'd Slave.
Slaves build their little Babylons of Straw,
Echo the proud Affyrian, in their Hearts,
And cry,-"

"Behold the Wonders of my Might." And why? Because immortal as their Lord; And Souls immortal must for ever heave

At fomething Great; the Glitter, or the Gold;
The Praise of Mortals, or the Praise of Heav'n.
NOR abfolutely vain is Human Praise,

When Human is fupported by Divine.
I'll introduce LORENZO to Himself ;

Pleasure, and Pride, (bad Masters!) Share our Hearts.
As Love of Pleasure is ordain'd to guard,

And feed our Bodies, and extend our Race;
The Love of Praise is planted to protect,

And propagate, the Glories of the Mind.
What is it but the Love of Praise inspires,
Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts,

Earth's Happiness? From that, the Delicate,

The