The Triumph of my Soul is,-That I am;
And therefore that I may be-What? LORENZO
Look Inward, and look Deep; and deeper ftill ;.
Unfathomably deep our Treasure runs
In golden Veins, thro' all Eternity!
Ages, and Ages, and fucceeding ftill
New Ages, where this Phantom of an Hour,
Which courts, each Night, dull Slumber for Repair,
Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise,
And fly thro' Infinite, and All unlock;
;
And (if deferv'd) by Heav'n's redundant Love,
Made half-adorable itself, adore,
And find, in Adoration, endless Joy!
Where Thou, not Master of a Moment here,.
Frail as the Flow'r, and fleeting as the Gale,
May'ft boast a whole Eternity, inrich'd
With All a kind Omnipotence can pour :
Since ADAM fell, no Mortal, un-inspir'd,
Has ever yet conceiv'd, or ever fhall,
How Kind is GOD, how Great (if Good) is MAN.
No Man too largely from His Love can hope,
If what is hop'd he labours to fecure.
ILLS? There are none: All-Gracious! none from
Thee;
From Man full Many! Num'rous is the Race
Of blackest Ills, and thofe Immortal too,
Begot by Madness on fair Liberty;
Heav'n's Daughter, Hell-debauch'd! Her Hand alone
Unlocks Deftruction to the Sons of Men,
Faft barr'd by Thine; high-wall'd with Adamant,
Guarded with Terrors reaching to this World,
And cover'd with the Thunders of Thy Law;
Whofe Threats are Mercies, whose Injunctions, Guides,
Affifting, not restraining, Reason's Choice;
Whofe Sanctions, unavoidable Refults
From Nature's Courfe, indulgently reveal'd ;.
If unreveal'd, more Dang'rous, nor lefs Sure.
Thus, an indulgent Father warns his Son,
"Do This; Fly That"-nor always tells the Caufe; Pleas'd to reward, as Duty to his Will,
A Conduct needful to their own Repose.
GREAT GOD of Wonders! (if, Thy Love furvey'd ̧. Aught elfe the Name of Wonderful-retains) What Rocks are Thefe, on which to build our Truft Thy Ways admit no Blemish; none I find ;
Or This alone- "That none is to be found."
Not One, to foften Cenfure's hardy Crime ;-
Not One, to palliate peevish Grief's COMPLAINT,
Who, like a Dæmon, murm'ring from the Duft,
Dares into Judgment call her Judge.-SUPREME.!!
For All I blefs Thee; Moft, for the Severe;
Her Death my own at Hand-the fiery Gulph,
That flaming Bound of Wrath Omnipotent!
It thunders;-but it thunders to preserve ;-
It strengthens what it ftrikes; its wholefome Dread
Averts the dreaded Pain! Its hideous Groans
Join Heav'n's fweet Halleluiahs in Thy Praife,
Great Source of Good alone! How Kind in All??
In Vengeance, Kind! Pain, Death, Gehenna, SAVE,
THUS, in thy World material, Mighty Mind!
Not That alone which folaces, and shines,
The Rough and Gloomy, challenges our Praise;
The Winter is as needful as the Spring;
The Thunder, as the Sun; a ftagnate Mass
Of Vapours breeds a peftilential Air;
Nor more propitious the Favonian Breeze:
To Nature's Health, than purifying Storms;;
The dread Volcano ministers to Good,
Its fmother'd Flames might undermine the World ;-
Loud Etnas fulminate in Love to Man ;-
Comets good Omens are, when duly scann'd;
And, in their Ufe, Eclipfes learn to shine.
MAN is refponfible for Ills receiv'd;
Those we call wretched are a chosen Band,
Compell'd to refuge in the Right, for Peace.
Amid my Lift of Bleffings infinite,
Stand This the foremost," That my Heart has bled :"
'Tis Heav'n's last Effort of Good-will to Man ;
When Pain can't blefs, Heav'n quits us in Defpair.
Who fails to grieve, when juft Occafion calls,
Or grieves too much, deserves not to be bleft,
Inhuman, or Effeminate, his Heart;
Reason abfolves the Grief which Reason ends.
May Heav'n ne'er truft my Friend with Happiness,
Till it has taught him how to bear it well,
By previous Pain; and made it safe to smile :
Such Smiles are mine, and such may they remain;
Nor hazard their Extinction, from Excess.
My Change of Heart a Change of Style demands;
The CONSOLATION cancels the COMPLAINT,
And makes a Convert of my guilty Song.
As when o'er-labour'd, and inclin'd to breathe, A panting Traveller, fome rifing Ground,
Some small Afcent, has gain'd, he turns him round,
And measures with his Eye the various Vale,
The Fields, Woods, Meads, and Rivers he has paft;
And, fatiate of his Journey, thinks of Home,
Endear'd by Distance; nor affects more Toil:
Thus I, though small, indeed, is that Afcent
The Mufe has gain'd, review the Paths fhe trod;
Various, extenfive, beaten but by Few;
And, confcious of her Prudence in Repose,
Paufe; and with Pleafure meditate an End,
Though ftill remote; so fruitful is my Theme.
Thro' many a Field of Moral, and Divine,
The Mufe has ftray'd; and much of Sorrow feen,
In human Ways; and much of Falfe and Vain;
Which none, who travel this bad Road, can miss:
O'er Friends deceas'd full heartily fhe wept;
Of Love Divine the Wonders fhe display'd;
Prov'd Man immortal; fhew'd the Source of Joy;
The grand Tribunal rais'd; affign'd the Bounds
Of human Grief: In few, to close the Whole,
The moral Mufe has fhadow'd out a Sketch,
Though not in Form, nor with a Raphael-Stroke,
Of Moft our Weaknefs needs believe, or do,
In this our Land of Travel, and of Hope,
For Peace on Earth, or Profpect of the Skies.
WHAT then remains ?-Much! much! a mighty
To be discharg'd: Thefe Thoughts, O NIGHT! are
From Thee they came, like Lovers fecret Sighs,
While Others flept: So, CYNTHIA (Poets feign)
In Shadows veil'd, foft-fliding from her Sphere,
Her Shepherd chear'd; of Her enamour'd lefs,
Than I of Thee.-And art Thou ftill unfung,
Beneath whofe Brow, and by whose Aid, I fing?
Immortal Silence!-Where fhall I begin?
Where end? Or how fteal Mufick from the Spheres,
To footh their Goddefs ?
O majestick NIGHT!
Nature's great Ancestor! Day's Elder-born!
And fated to furvive the tranfient Sun!
By Mortals, and Immortals, seen with Awe!
A ftarry Crown thy Raven-Brow adorns,
An azure Zone, thy Waift; Clouds, in Heav'n's Loom
Wrought thro' Varieties of Shape and Shade,
In ample Folds of Drapery divine,
Thy flowing Mantle form, and, Heav'n throughout,
Voluminously pour thy pompous Train:
Thy gloomy Grandeurs (Nature's most auguft,
Infpiring Afpect!) claim a grateful Verse ;
And, like a fable Curtain ftarr'd with Gold,
Drawn o'er my Labours paft, fhall close the Scene.
AND what, O Man! fo worthy to be fung?
What more prepares us for the Songs of Heav'n
Creation of Archangels is the Theme!
What, to be fung, fo needful? What so well
Celestial Joys prepares us to fuftain?
The Soul of Man, HIS Face defign'd to fee,
Who gave thefe Wonders to be seen by Man,
Has here a previous Scene of Objects great..
On which to dwell; to ftretch to that Expanse:
Of Thought; to rife to that exalted Height
Of Admiration; to contract that Awe,
And give her whole Capacities that Strength,.
Which beft may qualify for final Joy:
The more our Spirits are inlarg'd on Earth,
The deeper Draught fhall they receive of Heav'n.
HEAV'N'S KING! whofe Face unveil'd confum-
mates Blifs;
(Redundant Blifs!) which fills that mighty Void,
The whole Creation leaves in human Hearts!
THOU, who didft touch the Lip of JESSE's Son,
Wrapt in fweet Contemplation of these Fires,
And fet his Harp in Concert with the Spheres!
While of Thy Works Material the Supreme
I dare attempt, affift my daring Song;
Loose me from Earth's Inclosure, from the Sun's
Contracted Circle fet my Heart at large;
Eliminate my Spirit, give it Range,
Through Provinces of Thought yet unexplor'd;
Teach me, by this ftupendous Scaffolding,
Creation's golden Steps, to climb to THEE:
Teach me with Art great Nature to controul,
And spread a Luftre o'er the Shades of Night.
|