Amid fuch hourly Wrecks of Being fair,
Is there no central, all-fuftaining Bafe,
All-realizing, all-connecting Power,
Which, as it call'd forth all Things, can recall,
And force Destruction to refund her Spoil?
Command the Grave reftore her taken Prey?
Bid Death's dark Vale its Human Harvest yield,
And Earth and Ocean, pay their Debt of Man,
True to the grand Depofit trusted There?
Is there no Potentate, whofe out-ftretcht Arm,
When rip'ning Time calls forth th' appointed Hour,
Pluckt from foul Devastation's famifht Maw,
Binds Prefent, Paft, and Future, to his Throne?
His Throne, how glorious, thus divinely grac'd,
By germinating Beings cluft'ring round!
A Garland worthy the Divinity!
A Throne, by Heav'n's Omnipotence in Smiles,
Built (like a Pharos tow'ring in the Waves)
Amidft immenfe Effufions of his Love!
An Ocean of communicated Blifs!
An all-prolific, all preferving God!
This were a GoD indeed.And fuch is Man,
As here prefum'd: He rifes from his Fall.
Thinkft Thou Omnipotence a naked Root,
Each Bloffom fair of DEITY deftroy'd?
Nothing is dead; nay, Nothing fleeps; each Soul,
That ever animated human Clay,
Now wakes; is on the Wing: And where, O where,
Will the Swarm fettle ?-When the Trumpet's Call,
As founding Brafs, collects us, round Heav'n's Throne
Conglob'd, we bask in everlasting Day,
(Paternal Splendor!) and adhere for ever.
Had not the Soul this Outlet to the Skies,
In this vaft Veffel of the Universe,
How fhould we gafp, as in an empty Void!
How in the Pangs of famifht Hope expire!
How bright This Profpect fhines! How gloomy, Thine! A trembling World! and a devouring GOD!
Earth, but the Shambles of Omnipotence!
Heav'n's Face all ftain'd with cauflefs Maffacres
Of countless Millions, born to feel the Pang
Of Being loft. LORENZO! can it be?
This bids us fhudder at the Thoughts of Life:
Who would be born to fuch a Phantom World,
Where nought Subftantial, but our Misery ?
Where Joy (if Joy) but heightens our Distress,
So foon to perish, and revive no more?
The greater fuch a Joy, the more It pains.
A World, where dark, myfterious Vanity
Of Good, and Ill, the distant Colours blends,
Confounds all Reafon, and all Hope destroys;
Reason, and Hope, our fole Afylum Here!
A World, fo far from Great (and yet how Great
It shines to Thee!) there's nothing Real in it;
Being, a Shadow! Confcioufness, a Dream!
A Dream, how dreadful! Universal Blank
Before it, and Behind! Poor Man, a Spark
From Non-existence ftruck by Wrath divine,
Glitt'ring a Moment, nor that Moment fure,
'Midft Upper, Nether, and Surrounding Night,
His Sad, Sure, Sudden, and Eternal Tomb!
LORENZO! doft Thou feel thefe Arguments?
Or is there nought but Vengeance can be felt?
How haft Thou dar'd the DEITY dethrone ?
How dar'd indict Him of a World like This?
If fuch the World, Creation was a Crime;
For what is Crime, but Cause of Mifery?
Retract, Blafphemer! And unriddle This,
Of endless Arguments above, below,
Without us, and avithin, the fhort Refult-
"IF Man's Immortal, there's a GOD in Heaven."
But wherefore fuch Redundancy? Such Waste
Of Argument? One fets my Soul at Reft;
One obvious, and at Hand, and, Oh !-at Heart.
So just the Skies, PHILANDER'S Life fo pain'd,
His Heart fo pure; that, or fucceeding Scenes
Have Palms to give, or ne'er had He been born.
"What an old Tale is This!" LORENZO cries.-
I grant this Argument is old; but Truth
No Years impair; and had not This been True,
Thou never hadft defpis'd it for its Age.
Truth is Immortal as thy Soul; and Fable
As fleeting as thy Joys: Be wife, nor make
Heav'n's highest Bleffing, Vengeance; O be wife!
Nor make a Curfe of Immortality.
Say, know'ft Thou what It is? Or what Thou art? Know'ft Thou th' Importance of a Soul Immortal? Behold this Midnight Glory; Worlds on Worlds! Amazing Pomp! Redouble this Amaze;
Ten thoufand add; add twice Ten thousand more; Then weigh the Whole; One Soul outweighs them All; And calls th' aftonishing Magnificence
Of unintelligent Creation poor.
For This, believe not me; no Man believe;
Truft not in Words, but Deeds; and Deeds no lefs
Than thofe of the SUPREME; nor His, a Few ;
Confult them All; confulted, All proclaim
Thy Soul's Importance: Tremble at Thyfelf;
For whom Omnipotence has wak'd fo long:
Has wak'd, and work'd, for Ages; from the Birth
Of Nature to this Unbelieving Hour.
In this fmall Province of His vaft Domain
(All Nature bow, while I pronounce his Name!)
What has GoD done, and not for this fole End,
To rescue Souls from Death? The Soul's high Price
Is writ in all the Conduct of the Skies.
The Soul's high Price is the Creation's Key,
Unlocks its Myfteries, and naked lays
The genuine Cause of ev'ry Deed divine :
That, is the Chain of Ages, which maintains
Their obvious Correfpondence, and unites
Moft diftant Periods in One bleft Defign:
That, is the mighty Hinge, on which have turn'd
All Revolutions, whether we regard
The Natral, Civil, or Religious, World;
The Former Two, but Servants to the Third:
To That their Duty done, they Both expire,
Their Mafs new caft, forgot their Deeds renown'd;
And Angels afk, "Where once they shone so fair?
To lift us from this Abject, to Sublime;
This Flux, to Permanent; this Dark to Day;
This Foul, to Pure; this Turbid, to Serene;
This Mean, to Mighty!-for this glorious End
Th' ALMIGHTY, rifing, his long Sabbath broke;
The World was Made; was Ruin'd; was Reftor'd;
Laws from the Skies were Publifh'd; were Repeal'd;
On Earth Kings, Kingdoms, rofe; Kings, Kingdoms, fell;
Fam'd Sages lighted up the Pagan World;
Prophets from Sion darted a keen Glance
Thro' diftant Age; Saints travell'd; Martyrs bled;
By Wonders facred Nature ftood controul'd;
The Living were Tranflated; Dead were Rais'd;
Angels, and more than Angels, came from Heaven;
And, oh! for This, defcended lower ftill;
Gilt was Hell's Gloom; astonisht at his Guest,
For one fhort Moment LUCIFER ador'd:
LORENZO and wilt Thou do lefs?-For This,
That Hallow'd Page, Fools fcoff at, was infpir'd,
Of all these Truths thrice-venerable Code!
Deifts! perform your Quarentine; and then,
Fall proftrate, ere you touch it, left you die.
Nor lefs intenfely bent Infernal Powers
To mar, than thofe of Light, this End to gain.
O what a Scene is Here!-LORENZO! wake;
Rife to the Thought; exert, expand, thy Soul
To take the vaft Idea: It denies
All else the Name of Great. Two warring Worlds!
Not Europe against Afric; Warring Worlds,
Of more than Mortal! mounted on the Wing!
On ardent Wings of Energy, and Zeal,
High-hov'ring o'er this little Brand of Strife!
This fublunary Ball-But Strife, for what?
In their own Cause conflicting? No; in Thine,
In Man's. His fingle Int'reft blows the Flame;
His the fole Stake; His Fate the Trumpet founds,
Which kindles War Immortal. How It burns!
Tumultuous Swarms of Deities in Arms!
Force Force oppofing, till the Waves run high,
And tempeft Nature's univerfal Sphere.
Such Oppofites Eternal, Stedfaft, Stern,
Such Foes Implacable, are Good, and Ill;
Yet Man, vain Man, would mediate Peace between them.
"There was War in Heaven."
From Heav'n's high crystal Mountain were It hung,
Th' ALMIGHTY's outftretcht Arm took down his Bow:
And fhot His Indignation at the Deep:
Re-thunder'd Hell, and darted all her Fires.--
And feems the Stake of little Moment ftill?
And flumbers Man, who fingly caus'd the Storm?
He fleeps. And art Thou fhockt at Myfteries?
The Greatest, Thou. How dreadful to reflect,
What Ardor, Care, and Counsel, Mortals cause
In Breafts Divine! How little in their own!
Where-e'er I turn, how new Proofs pour upon me! How happily This wond'rous View fupports My Former Argument! How ftrongly frikes Immortal Life's full Demonftration, Here! Why this Exertion? Why this ftrange Regard From Heav'n's Omnipotent indulg'd to Man ?Because, in Man, the glorious, dreadful Power, Extremely to be Pain'd, or Bleft, for Ever. Duration gives Importance; fwells the Price. An Angel, if a Creature of a Day,
What would He be? A Trifle of no Weight;
Or Stand, or Fall; no Matter which; He's gone.
Becaufe IMMORTAL, therefore is indulg'd
This ftrange Regard of Deities to Dust.
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