Has not each Element, in Turn, fubfcrib'd

The Soul's high Price, and sworn it to the Wife? ·
Has not Flame, Ocean, Ether, Earthquake, ftrove.
To ftrike this Truth, thro' adamantine Man ?
If not All-adamant, LORENZO! hear;
All is Delufion; Nature is wrapt up

In tenfold Night, from Reafon's keenest Eye;
There's no Confistence, Meaning, Plan, or End,.
In all beneath the Sun,, in all above,
(As far as Man can penetrate) or Heav'n
Is an Immenfe, Ineftimable Prize;

Or All is Nothing, or that Prize is All.

And shall each Toy be ftill a Match for Heav'n?
And full Equivalent for Groans Below ?
Who would not give a Trifle to prevent,

What He would give a Thousand Worlds to cure?
LORENZO! Thou haft feen (if Thine, to fee)
All Nature, and her GoD, (by Nature's Course,
And Nature's Course controul'd) declare for me :-
The Skies Above proclaim "Immortal Man !?"
And, "Man Immortal!" all Below refounds.
The World's a Syftem of Theology,

Read, by the greatest Strangers to the Schools;
If Honeft, Learn'd; and Sages o'er a Plough.
Is not, LORENZO ! then, impos'd on Thee,
This hard Alternative; or, to renounce
Thy Reason, and thy Senfe; or, to Believe?
What then is Unbelief? 'Tis an Exploit ;
A ftrenuous Enterprize; To gain it, Man
Must burst thro' ev'ry Bar of common Senfe,
Of common Shame, magnanimously wrong;
And what rewards the sturdy Combatant?
His Prize, Repentance; Infamy, his Crown.
BUT wherefore, Infamy ?-For Want of Worth.
Down the steep Precipice of Wrong He flides,
There's nothing to support him in the Right

Faith in the Future wanting, is, at least
In Embryo, ev'ry Weakness, ev'ry Guilt;
And strong Temptation ripens it to Birth.
If this Life's Gain invites him to the Deed,
Why not his Country fold, his Father flain?
'Tis Virtue to pursue our Good Supreme;
And his Supreme, his only Good is Here.
Ambition, Av'rice, by the Wife difdain'd,
Is perfect Wisdom, while Mankind are Fools,
And think a Turf, or Tombstone, covers All;
These find Employment, and provide for Sense
A richer Pafture, and a larger Range;

And Senfe by Right Divine afcends the Throne,
When Reason's Prize, and Profpect is no more;
Virtue no more we think the Will of Heav'n;
Would Heav'n quite beggar Virtue, if belov'd?
"HAS Virtue Charms?"-I grant Her heav'nly
Fair;

But if un-portion'd, all will Int'reft wed;
Tho' That our Admiration, This our Choice.
The Virtues grow on Immortality,

That Root deftroy'd, they wither and expire.
A DEITY believ'd, will nought avail;
Rewards and Punishments make God ador'd;
And Hopes and Fears give Conscience all her Pow'r :
As in the dying Parent dies the Child,

Virtue, with Immortality, expires.

Who tells me He denies his Soul Immortal,
Whate'er his Boaft, has told me, He's a Knave.
His Duty 'tis, to love Himself alone,

Nor care tho' Mankind perish, if He fmiles.
Who thinks ere-long the Man fhall wholly die,
Is dead already; nought but Brute furvives.

AND are there fuch ?-Such Candidates there are For more than Death: for utter Lofs of Being; Being, the Bafis of the DEITY!

AL

Afk you the Caufe?-The Caufe they will not tell;
Nor need they: Oh the Sorceries of Sense !
They work this Transformation on the Soul,
Difmount her from her native Wing, (which foar'd
Ere-while Ethereal Heights) and throw her down,
To lick the Duft, and crawl in fuch a Thought.
Is it in Words to paint you? Oye Fall'n!
Fall'n from the Wings of Reason, and of Hope!
Erect in Stature, Prone in Appetite !
Patrons of Pleasure, posting into Pain!
Lovers of Argument, averfe to Sense !
Boafters of Liberty, faft-bound in Chains!
Lords of the wide Creation, and the Shame!
More Senfeless than th' Irrationals you fcorn!
More Base than those you rule! Than those you pity,
Far more Undone ! Oye moft Infamous

Of Beings, from Superior Dignity!

Deepest in Woe from Means of boundless Blifs.

Ye curft by Bleffings infinite; Because

Moft highly favour'd, most profoundly lost!
Ye motly Mass of Contradiction strong!
And are you, too, convinc'd, your Souls fly off
In Exhalation foft, and die in Air,

From the full Flood of Evidence against you?
In the coarfe Drudgeries, and Sinks of Senfe,
Your Souls have quite worn out the Make of Heav'n,
By Vice new-caft, and Creatures of your own:
But tho' you can deform, you can't deftroy ;.
To curfe, not uncreate, is all your Pow'r.
LORENZO! this black Brotherhood renounce
Renounce St. Evrement, and read St. Paul.
Ere rapt by Miracle, by Reason wing'd
His mounting Mind made long Abode in Heav'n.
This is Free-thinking, unconfin'd to Parts,
To fend the Soul, on curious Travel bent,
Thro' all the Provinces of Human Thought,

From

From First to Laft, (but Laft there none shall be !)*
To dart her Flight, thro' the whole Sphere of Man;
Of this vaft Univerfe to make the Tour;

In each Recefs of Space, and Time, at Home;
Familiar with their Wonders; diving deep;
And, like a Prince of boundless Int'refts There,
Still moft ambitious of the most Remote ;
To look on Truth unbroken, and entire ;
Truth in the Syftem, the full Orb; where Truths
By Truths inlighten'd, and sustain'd, afford
An Arch-like, trong Foundation, to support
Th' incumbent Weight of abfolute, complete
Conviction; Here, the more we prefs, we ftand
More Firm; Who moft Examine, most Believe.
Parts, like Half-fentences, confound; the Whole
Conveys the Senfe, and GoD is understood;
Who not in Fragments writes to Haman Race;
Read his whole Volume, Sceptic! then, Reply.

This, This is Thinking-free, a Thought that grafps-
Beyond a Grain, and looks beyond an Hour.
Turn up thine Eye, survey this Midnight Scene ;
What are Earth's Kingdoms, to yon boundless Orbs,
Of human Souls, one Day, the deftin'd Range?
And what yon
boundless Orbs, to Godlike Man!
Those num'rous Worlds that throng the Firmament,
And afk more Space in Heav'n, can rowl at large
In Man's capacious Thought, and ftill leave Room
For ampler Orbs; for new Creations, There.
Can fuch a Soul contract itself, to gripe
A Point of no Dimenfion, of no Weight?
It can; it does: The World is such a Point,
And, of that Point, how small a Part inflaves?
How small a Part- of Nothing, fhall I say?
Why not?-Friends, our chief Treafure! How they

drop?

LUCIA, NARCISSA fair, PHILANDER, gone!
The Grave, like fabled Cerberus, has op'd
A Triple Mouth; and, in an awful Voice,
Loud calls my Soul, and utters All I fing.
How the World falls to-pieces round about us,
And leaves us in a Ruin of our Joy?

What fays, This Transportation of my Friends?
It bids me love the Place where now they dwell,
And scorn this wretched Spot, they leave. fo Poor.
Eternity's vaft Ocean lies before thee;

There, There, LORENZO! thy CLARISSA fails..
Give thy Mind Sea-room; keep it wide of Earth,
That Rock of Souls immortal; cut thy Cord,
Weigh Anchor; Spread thy Sails; call ev'ry Wind
Eye thy Great Pole-far: Make the Land of Life.

Two Kinds of Life has double-natur'd Man,
And Two of Death; the Laft far more severe.
Life animal is nurtur'd by the Sun ;

Thrives on his Bounties, triumphs in his Beams..
Life rational fubfifts on higher Food,

Triumphant in His Beams, who made the Day..
When we leave that Sun, and are left by this,
(The Fate of all who die in stubborn Guilt)
'Tis utter Darkness; ftri&tly, Double Death..
We fink by no Judicial Stroke of Heav'n,.
But Nature's Courfe; as fure as Plummets fall.
Since GOD, or Man, must alter, ere they meet,
(For Light and Darkness blend not in one Sphere)
"Tis manifeft, LORENZO, who must change.

Ir, then, that Double death fhould prove thy Lot,. Blame not the Bowels of the DEITY;

Man fhall be bleft, as far as Man permits.
Not Man alone, all Rationals, Heav'n arms
With an Illustrious, but Tremendous, Pow'r,
To counter-act Its own moft gracious Ends;
And this, of ftrict Neceffity, not Choice;

That