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To worth maturing, new Strength, Luftre, Fame
While Nature's Circle, like a Chariot-wheel;
Rolling beneath their elevated Aims,
Makes their fair Prospect fairer ev'ry Hour;
Advancing Virtue, in a Line to Bliss:
Virtue, which Christian Motives best inspire !
And Bliss, which Christian Schemes alone enfure.
And shall we then, for: Virtue's fake, commence-
Apoftates ? and turn Infidels for Joy?
A Truth it is, Few doubt, but Fewer trust,
“ He fins against this Life, who flights the next."
What is this Life!: How Few their Fav'rite know
Fond in the dark, and blind in our Embrace,
By passionately loving Life, we make
Lov'd Life unlovely ; hugging her to Death.
We give to Time Eternity's Regard ;
And dreaming take our Passage for our Port.
Life has no Value.as an End, but Means ;
An End deplorable! a Means divine !
When 'tis our All; 'tis Nothing; worse than Nought;
A Neft of Pains when held as Nothing, Much :
Like fome fair Humourists, Life is moft enjoy'd,
When courted leaft; moft worth, when difefteem'di
Then 'tis the Seat of Comfort, rich in Peace;
In Prospect, richer far ; Important! Awful!
Not to be mention'd but with Shouts of Praise ?
Not to be thought on, but with Tides of Joy!
The mighty Basis of eternal Bliss !
Where now the barren Rock ? the painted Skrety? Where now, Lorenzo ! Life's eternal Round? Have I not made my triple Promise good ? Vain is the World, but only to the Vain. To what compare we then this varying Scene, Whose Wörth ambiguous rises, and declines? Waxes and wanes? (In all propitious, Night
Affifts me Here) Compare it to the Moon ;
Dark in herself, and Indigent: but Rich
In borrow'd Luftre from a higher Sphere :
When grofs Guilt interposes, labouring Earth
O'ershadow'd mourns a deep Eclipse of foy;
Her Joys at brightest pallid, to that Font
Of full effulgent Glory, whence they flow.
Nor is that Glory diftant : Oh Lorenzo!
A good Man and an Angel! These between
How thin the Barrier? What divides their Fate?
Perhaps a Moment, or perhaps a Year;
Or if an Age, it is a moment ftill ;
A moment, or Eternity's forgot :
Then be, what once they were, who now are Gods ;
Be what Philander was, and claim the Skies.
Starts timid Nature at the gloomy Pass?
The soft Transition call it; and be chear'd;
Such it is often, and why not to Thee ?
To hope the Best is Pious, Brave, and Wise,
And may Itself procure, what It presumes. .
Life is much fatter'd, Death is much traduc'd ;
Compare the Rivals, and the Kinder crown.
“ Strange Competition"-True Lorenzo ! Strange 1
So little Life can caft into the Scale.
Life makes the Soul Dependent on the Duft ;
Death gives her wings to mount above the Spheres :
Thro' Chinks, ftyl'd Organs, dim Life peeps at Light;
Death bursts th’ Involving Cloud, and all is Day:
All Eye, all Ear, the disembody'd Power.
Death has feign'd Evils, Nature shall not feel ;
Life, Ills fubftantial, Wisdom cannot shun:
Is not the mighty Mind, that Son of Heav'n!
By Tyrant Life dethron’d, imprison’d, pain'd?
By Death enlarg’d, ennobled, deify'd?
Death but entombs the Body Life the Soul.
" Is Death then Guiltless ? How He marks his Way s With dreadful Waste of what deserves to fhine ? “ Art, Genius, Fortune, elevated Pow'r ! « With various Lastres These light up the World, “ Which Death puts out and darkens human Race." I grant, Lorenzo ! this Indictment juft: The Sage, Peer, Potentate, King, Conqueror ! Death humbles These; more barbarous Life, the max: Life is the Triumph of our mould'ring Clay ; Deatb, of the Spirit Infinite! Divine ! Death has no dread but what frail Life imparts ; Nor Life true Joy, but what kind Death improves. No Bliss has Life to boaft, till Death can give Far greater ; Life's a Debtor to the Grave, Dark Lattice ! letting in Eternal Day.
Lorenzo ! blush at Fondnefs for a Life, Which sends celestial Souls on errands vile, To cater for the Sense ; and serve at Boards, Where ev'ry Ranger of the Wilds, perhaps, Each Reptile juftly claims our upper Hand ; Luxurious Feaft! a Soul, à Soui immortal, In all the Dainties of a Brute bemir'd! Lorenzo! blush at Terror for a Death, Which gives thee to repose in feftive Bow'rs, Where Nectars fparkle, Angels minifter, And more than Angels share, and raife, and crown, And eternize, the Birth, Bloom, Bursts of Bliss! O Feast indeed Luxurious! Earth, vile Earth! In all the Glories of a God array'd; And beaming inextinguishable Bliss, What need I more! O Death, the Palm is thine.
Then welcome, Death! thy dreaded Harbingers Age, and Disease ; Disease, tho' long my Guest; That plucks my Nerves, those tender Strings of Life, Which pluck'd a little more, will toll the Bell
That calls my few Friends to my Funeral ;
Where feeble Nature drops, perhaps, a Tear,
While Reason and Religion, better taught,
Congratulate the Dead, and crown his tomb
With wreath triumphant. Death is Victory
It binds in chains the raging Ills of Life :
Luft and Ambition, Wrath and Avarice,
Dragg'd at his chariot wheel, applaud his Power.
That Ills corrosive, Cares importunate,
Are not Immortal too, O Death! is Thine.
Our Day of Diffolution ?-Name it right;
'Tis our great Pay-day ; 'Tis our Harvest, rich
And ripe ; what tho' the Sickle, sometimes keen,
Juft scars us, as we reap the golden Grain,
More than thy Balm, 0 Gilead! heals the Wound.
Birth's feeble Cry, and Death's deep dismal Groan,
Are slender Tributes low-tax'd Nature
For mighty Gain : The Gain of each, a Life!
But O, the Last the Former so transcends,
Life dies, Compar'd: Life lives beyond the Grave.
And feel I, Death! no joy from thought of Thee
Death, the great Counsellor, who-Man inspires,
With ev'ry nobler Thought, and fairer Deed !
Death, the Deliverer, who rescues man!
Death, the Rewarder, who the rescued crowns !
Death, that absolves my Birth, a curse without it!
Rich Death, that realizes all my Cares,
Toils, Virtues, Hopes ; without it, a Chimera !
Death, of all Pain the Period, not of Joy ;
Joy's Source, and Subject, still subfift unhurt,
One in my Soul; and One, in her great Sire,
Tho' the four Winds were warring for my
Yes, and from Winds, and Waves, and central Night,
Tho' prison'd there, my Duft too I reclaim,
(To Duft when drop proud Nature's proudet Spheres)
And live Entire. Death is the Crown of Life ;
Was Death deny'd, poor Man would live in vain
Was Death deny'd, to live would not be Life;
Was Death denyd, ev'n Fools would wish to die.
Death wounds, to cure: We fall ;-we rise; we reign!
Spring from our Fetters; 'faften in the Skies
Where blooming Eden withers in our Sight;
Death gives us more than was in Eden loft.-
This : King of Terrors is the Prince of Peacę.
When shall I die to Vanity, Pain, Death?
When shall I die ?-When thall I live for ever: