There, freely can refpire, dilate, extend,
In full proportion let loofe all her pow'rs;
And, undeluded, grasp at something great.
Nor, as a stranger, does fhe wander there.
But, wonderful herself, thro' wonder strays;
Contemplating their grandeur, finds ber own;
Dives deep in their economy divine,

Sits high in judgment on their various laws,
And, like a mafter, judges not amifs.

Hence greatly pleas'd, and justly proud, the foul
Grows confcious of her birth celeftial; breathes
More life, more vigour, in her native air;
And feels herfelf at home among the ftars;
And, feeling, emulates her country's praise.
What call we, then, the firmament, LORENZO?
As earth the body, fince, the skies sustain
The foul with food, that gives immortal life,
Call it, The noble pasture of the mind;
Which there expatiates, ftrengthens, and exults,
And riots through the luxuries of thought.
Call it, The garden of the DEity,

Bloffom'd with ftars, redundant in the growth
Of fruit ambrofial; moral fruit to man.
Call it, The breaft-plate of the true High-prieft,
Ardent with gems oracular, that give,
In points of higheft moment, right response;
And ill-neglected, if we prize our peace.
Thus, have we found a true astrology;
Thus, have we found a new, and noble sense,
In which alone ftars govern human fates.
O that the stars (as fome have feign'd) let fall
Bloodfhed, and havock, on embattled realms,
And refcu'd monarchs from fo black a guilt!
Bourbon! this with how gen'rous in a foe!
Wouldst thou be great, wouldft thou become a god,
And stick thy deathlefs name among the stars,
For mighty conquefts on a needle's point?
Inftead of forging chains for foreigners,
Bastile thy tutor, Grandeur all thy aim?

As yet thou know'st not what it is: How great,
How glorious, then appears the mind of man,
When in it all the ftars, and planets, roll!
And what it seems it is: Great objects make
Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge;
Those ftill more godlike, as these more divine.

And more divine than these, thou can'ft not fee. Dazzled, o'erpower'd with the delicious draught Of miscellaneous fplendours, how I reel

From thought to thought, inebriate, without end! An Eden this! a Paradise unlost!

I meet the DEITY in ev'ry view,

And tremble at my nakedness before Him!
O that I could but reach the tree of life!
For here it grows unguarded from our taste :
No flaming sword denies our entrance bere ;
Would man but gather, he might live for ever.
LORENZO! much of moral haft thou feen.
Of curious arts art thou more fond? then mark
The mathematic glories of the skies,

In number, weight, and meafure, all ordaind'd.
LORENZO'S boasted builders, Chance and Fate,
Are left to finish his ærial tow'rs;

Wisdom, and Choice, their well-known characters
Here deep imprefs; and claim it for their own.
Tho' fplendid all, no fplendor void of use.
Use rivals Beauty: Art contends with Pow'r ;
No wanton wafte, amid effufe expence ;
The Great Economist adjusting all
To prudent pomp, magnificently wife.
How rich the profpect! and for ever new!
And newest to the man that views it most;
For newer ftill in infinite fucceeds.

Then, these ærial racers, O how swift!
How the fhaft loiters from the ftrongest string!
Spirit alone can distance the career.
Orb above orb afcending without end!
Circle in circle, without end, inclof'd!

Wheel within wheel: Ezekiel, like to thine!

X

Like thine, it seems a vifion, or a dream ;
Tho' feen, we labour to believe it true!

What involution! what extent! what fwarms
Of worlds, that laugh at earth! immensely great!
Immenfely diftant from each other's fpheres!
What then, the wondrous space thro' which they roll?
At once it quite ingulphs all human thought;
'Tis comprehenfion's abfolute defeat.

Nor think thou feest a wild disorder here;
Thro' this illuftrious chaos to the fight,
Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign.
The path prefcrib'd, inviolably kept,
Upbraids the lawlefs fallies of mankind.
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere;
What knots are ty'd! how foon are they diffolv❜d,
And fet the feeming married 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 filence, by the prefence of their LORD;
Or hufh'd by His command, in love to man,
And bid let fall foft beams on human reft,
Reftlefs themselves. On yon cærulean plain,
In exultation to their GOD, and thine,
They dance, they fing eternal jubilee,
Eternal celebration of His praife.

But, fince their song arrives not at our ear,
Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the fight
Fair hieroglipbic of His peerlefs pow'r.
Mark, how the labirinthian turns they take,
The circle intricate, and myftic maze,
Weave the grand cypher of Omnipotence;
To Gods, how great! how legible to man!
Leaves fo much wonder greater wonder still?
Where are the pillars that fupport the skies?
What more than Atlantean fhoulder props

Th' incumbent load? What magic, what strange art,

In fluid air thefe pond'rous orbs fuftains?

Who would not think them hung in golden chains?—-
And fo 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 such the dread decree.
Imagine from their deep, foundations torn
The moft gigantic fons 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 meafure, exquifite; while all
The winds, in emulation of the spheres,
Tune their fonorious 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 noblest ends?
More obvious ends to pass-Are not these stars
The feats majestic, proud imperial thrones,
On which angelic delegates of Heav'n,
At certain periods, as the Sov'REIGN nods,
Discharge high trufts of vengeance, or of love,
To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design,
And acts more folemn 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 fight!
A fight fo noble! and a fight fo kind!
It drops new truths at ev'ry new furvey!
Feels not LORENZO fomething ftir within,
That fweeps away all period? As these spheres
Measure duration, they no lefs infpire

The godlike hope of ages without end:

The boundlefs space thro' which these rovers take
Their reftlefs roam, fuggefts the fifter-thought
Of boundless time. Thus, by kind Nature's kill,
To man unlabour'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 insults her fons.
Could fhe then kindle the most ardent wifhe
To disappoint it? That is blafphemy.
Thus, of thy creed a fecond article,
Momentous, as th' existence of a God,,
Is found (as I conceive) where rarely fought;
And thou may'ft 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.
Assemblies!this is one divinely bright;
Here, un-endanger'd in health, wealth, or fame,
Range through the fairest, and the Sultan feorn.
He, wife as thou, no crescent 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 pow'r.
Thou, muffled in delufions of this life!
Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed,
From fide to fide, in conftant ebb and flow,
And purify from stench his wat'ry realms?
And fails her moral influence? Wants fhe pow'r
To turn LORENZO's stubborn tide of thought,
From stagnating on earth's infected fhore,
And purge from nuilance his corrupted heart?
Fails her attraction, when it draws to Heav'n?
Nay, and to what thou valu'st more, earth's joy?
Minds elevate, and panting for unseen,
And defecate from sense, alone obtain
Full relith of exiftence un-deflower'd,
The life of life, the zest of worldly blifs.
All elfe on earth amounts-to what? to this;
"Bad to be suffer'd; blessings to be left :"
Earths richest inventory boasts no more.