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Of Worlds, that laugh at Earth, immensely Great!
Immensely distant from each other's Spheres !

What, then, the wond'rous Space thro' which they roll?
At once it quite ingulphs all human Thought;
Tis Comprehenfion's abfolute Defeat.

Nor think thou feeft a wild Disorder here;
Thro' this illuftrious Chaos, to the Sight,
Arrangement neat, and chastest Order, reign.
The Path prescrib'd, inviolably kept,
Upbraids the lawless Sallies of Mankind:
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere ;
What Knots are ty'd? How foon are they diffolv'd
And fet the feeming marry'd Planets free?
They rove for ever, without Error rove:
Confufion unconfus'd! Nor less admire
This Tumult untumultuous: All on Wing,
In Motion, All! yet what profound Repofe?
What fervid Action, yet no Noife! as aw'd
To Silence, by the Prefence of their LORD;
Or hufh'd, by His Command, in Love to Man,
And bid let fall soft Beams on human Rest,
Restless themselves. On yon cærulean Plain,
In Exultation to Their GOD, and Thine,
They dance, they fing eternal Jubilee,
Eternal Celebration of His Praise :

But, fince their Song arrives not at our Ear,
Their Dance perplex'd exhibits to the Sight
Fair Hieroglyphic of His peerless Power:
Mark, how the Labyrinthian Turns they take,
The Circles intricate, and mystic Maze,
Weave the grand Cypher of Omnipotence ;
To Gods, how Great? how Legible to Man?
LEAVES fo much Wonder greater Wonder ftill?
Where are the Pillars that fupport the Skies?
What More than Atlantean Shoulder props
Th' incumbent Load? What Magick, what ftrange Art,

In fluid Air thefe pond'rous Orbs sustains ?

Who would not think them hung in golden Chains —
And so they are; in the high Will of Heav'n,
Which fixes All; makes Adamant of Air,
Or Air of Adamant; makes All of Nought,
Or Nought of All; if fuch the dread Decree.

IMAGINE from their deep Foundations torn
The most gigantic Sons of Earth, the broad
And tow'ring Alps, all toft into the Sea;
And, light as Down, or volatile as Air,
Their Bulks enormous dancing on the Waves,
In Time, and Measure, exquifite; while all
The Winds, in Emulation of the Spheres,
Tune their fonorous Inftruments aloft;
The Concert fwell, and animate the Ball:
Would this appear amazing? What, then, Worlds,
In a far thinner Element fuftain'd,

And acting the fame Part, with greater Skill,
More rapid Movement, and for nobleft Ends ?
More obvious Ends to pafs, are not these Stars
The Seats majestic, proud imperial Thrones,
On which angelic Delegates of Heav'n,
At certain Periods, as the SOVEREIGN nods,
Discharge high Trufts of Vengeance, or of Love
To cloath, in outward Grandeur, Grand Defign
And Acts moft Solemn, ftill more folemnize?

YE Citizens of Air! what ardent Thanks,
What full Effufion of the grateful Heart,
Is due from Man, indulg'd in fuch a Sight ?
A Sight fo Noble ! and a Sight so Kind!
It drops new Truths at ev'ry new Survey !
Feels not LORENZO Something ftir within,
That sweeps away all Period? As Thefe Spheres
Meafure Duration, they no less inspire

The Godlike Hope of Ages without End:

The boundless Space, thro' which thefe Rovers take

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Theip

Their restless Roam, suggests the Sister-Thought
Of boundless Time. Thus, by kind Nature's Skill,
To Man un-labour'd, that important Guest
ETERNITY, finds Entrance at the Sight :
And an Eternity, for Man-ordain'd,

Or These his deftin'd Midnight Counsellors,
The Stars, had never whisper'd it to Man :
NATURE informs, but ne'er infults, her Sons:
Could the then kindle the most ardent With
To disappoint it?—That is Blasphemy.
Thus, of thy Creed a Second Article,
Momentous, as th' Existence of a GOD,
Is found (as I conceive) where rarely fought;
And thou may'st read thy Soul immortal, Here.

HERE, then, LORENZO! on thefe Glories dwell, Nor want the gilt, illuminated, Roof,

That calls the wretched Gay to dark Delights:
Affemblées ?-This is one divinely bright;
Here, un endanger'd in Health, Wealth, or Fame;
Range thro' the faireft, and the SULTAN fcorn:
He, wife as Thou, no Crefcent holds fo fair,
As That, which on his Turbant awes a World:
And thinks the Moon is proud to copy Him:
Look on her, and gain more than Worlds can give,
A Mind fuperior to the Charms of Power.
Thou muffled in Delufions of this Life!

Can yonder Moon turn Ocean in his Bed,
From Side to Side, in conftant Ebb, and Flow,
And purify from Stench his watry Realms ?
And fails her moral Influence? Wants fhe Power
To turn LORENZO's ftubborn Tide of Thought
From ftagnating on Earth's infected Shore,
And purge from Nuisance his corrupted Heart ?
Fails her Attraction wher. it draws to Heaven?
Nay, and to what thou valueft more, Earth's Joy
Minds elevate, and, panting for Unseen,

And

And defecate from Senfe, alone obtain
Full Relish of Existence un-deflower'd,
The Life of Life, the Zeft of worldly Bliss.
All elfe on Earth amounts-to what? To This,
BAD to be Suffer'd; BLESSINGS to be Left:"
Earth's richeft Inventory boasts no more.

Of higher Scenes be, then, the Call obey'd :
O let me gaze!-Of Gazing there's no End:
O let me think!-Thought too is wilder'd here;
In Mid-way Flight Imagination tires:

Yet foon re-prunes her Wing to foar anew,
Her Point unable to forbear, or gain;

So great the Pleasure, fo profound the Plan!
A Banquet, This, where Men, and Angels, meet,
Eat the fame Manna, mingle Earth, and Heaven:
How diftant fome of these nocturnal Suns?
So diftant (fays the Sage) 'twere not abfurd
To doubt, if Beams, fet out at Nature's Birth,-
Are yet arriv'd at this fo foreign World;
Tho' nothing half fo rapid as their Flight:
An Eye of Awe and Wonder let me roll,
And roll for ever: Who can fatiate Sight
In fuch a Scene! in fuch an Ocean wide

Of deep Aftonishment! Where Depth, Height, Breadth,
Are loft in their Extremes; and where to count
The thick-fown Glories in this Field of Fire,
Perhaps a Seraph's Computation fails.

Now, go, Ambition! boaft thy boundless Might:
In Conqueft, o'er the Tenth Part of a Grain.
AND yet LORENZO calls for Miracles,

To give his tott'ring Faith a folid Bafe:
Why call for Lefs than is already thine ?
Thou art no Novice in Theology;
What is a Miracle ?-'Tis a Reproach,
'Tis an implicit Satire, on Mankind;
And while it fatisfies, it cenfures too :

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То

To Common-Senfe, Great Nature's Courfe proclaims A DEITY: When Mankind falls afleep,

A Miracle is fent, as an Alarm,

To wake the World, and prove Him o'er again,
By recent Argument, but not more strong.
Say, Which imports more Plenitude of Power,
Or Nature's Laws to fix, or to repeal?
To make a Sun, or ftop his Mid-Career?
To countermand his Orders, and fend back
The flaming Courier to the frighted Eaft,
Warm'd, and aftonish'd, at his Evening Ray;
Or bid the Moon, as with her Journey tir'd,
In Ajalon's foft, flow'ry, Vale repofe?

Great Things are These; ftill Greater, to create.
From ADAM'S Bow'r look down thro' the whole Train
Of Miracles;-Refiftlefs is their Power?

They do not, can not, more amaze the Mind,
Than This, call'd un-miraculous Survey,
If duly weigh'd, if rationally feen,

If feen with human Eyes: The Brute, indeed,

Sees nought but Spangles here; the Fool, no more. Sayft thou," The Course of Nature governs AH ?” The Courfe of Nature is the Art of GOD: The Miracles thou call'ft for, This atteft; For, fay, Could Nature Nature's Course controul? BUT, Miracles apart, who fees HIM not, Nature's CONTROULER, AUTHOR, GUIDE, and END? Who turns his Eye on Nature's Midnight Face, But muft inquire-" What Hand behind the Scene, "What Arm Almighty, put these wheeling Globes "In Motion, and wound up the vast Machine ? "Who rounded in his Palm these spacious Orbs? "Who bowl'd them flaming thro' the dark Profound, "Num'rous as glittering Gems of Morning-Dew, "Or Sparks from populous Cities in a Blaze,

"And

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