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*Then farewel Night! Of darkness, now no more : Joy breaks, fhines, triumph; 'tis eternal day. Shall that which rifes out of nought complain Of a few evils, paid with endless joys? My foul! henceforth in sweetest union join The two fupports of human happiness, Which fome, erroneous, think can never meet; True taste of life, and constant thought of death; The thought of death, fole victor of its dread! Hope be thy joy; and probity thy skills Thy patron, He, whofe diadem has dropp'd Yon gems of Heav'n; Eternity thy prize: And leaves the races of the world their own, Their feather, and their froth, for endlefs toils. They part with all for that which is not bread; They mortify, they starve, on wealth, fame, pow'r; And laugh to fcorn the fools that aim at more. How muft a fpirit, late efcap'd from earth, Suppofe PHILANDER'S, LUCIA's, or NARCISSA's, The truth of things new blazing in its eye, Look back, aftonifh'd, on the ways of men, Whofe lives' whole drift is to forget their graves ! And when our present privilege is past, To fcourge us with due fenfe of its abuse, The same aftonifhment will feize us all. What then muft pain us, would preferve us now. LORENZO! 'tis not yet too late: LORENZO! Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wife; That is, feize wisdom, ere she feizes thee. For what, my fmal philofopher, is hell? Tis nothing, but full knowledge of the truth, When truth, refifted long, is fworn our foe; And calls Eternity to do her right.

Thus, Darkness aiding intellectual light, And facred Silence whifp'ring truths divine, And truths divine converting pain to peace, My fong the midnight raven has outwing'd, And shot, ambitious of unbounded fcenes,

Beyond the flaming limits of the world,
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?
Virtue abounds in flatterers, and foes:

"Tis pride to praife her; penance, to perform.
To more than words, to more than worth of tongue,
LORENZO! rife, at this aufpicious hour;

An hour, when Heav'ns moft intimate with man,
When, like a falling ftar, the ray divine
Glides fwift into the bofom of the just;
And juft are all determin'd to reclaim;
Which fets that title high, within thy reach.
Awake, then; thy PHILANDER calls; Awake!
Thou, who fhalt wake when the creation fleeps:
When, like a taper, all these funs expire;
When time, like him of Gaza in his wrath,
Plucking the pillars that fupport the world,
In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd;
And Midnight, universal Midnight! reigns.

FINIS.

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