They are thy witneffes, who speak thy power
And goodness infinite, but speak in ears,
That hear not, or receive not their report.
In vain thy creatures teftify of thee,

Till thou proclaim thy felf. Their's is indeed
A teaching voice; but 'tis the praise of thine,
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn,
And with the boon gives talents for its use.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain.
Poffefs the heart, and fables false as hell;
Yet, deemed oracular, lure down to death
The uninformed and heedlefs fouls of men.
We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind,
The glory of thy work; which yet appears
Perfect and unimpeachable of blame,
Challenging human scrutiny, and proved
Then fkilful moft when moft feverely judged.
But chance is not; or is not where thou reigneft:
Thy providence forbids that fickle power

(If power she be that works but to confound)
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws.
Yet thus we dote, refufing while we can
Inftruction, and inventing to ourfelves

Gods fuch as guilt makes welcome; gods that fleep,

Or difregard our follies, or that fit
Amufed fpectators of this buftling stage.
Thee we reject, unable to abide

Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure,

Made fuch by thee, we love thee for that cause

For which we fhunned and hated thee before. Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the foul, and by a flash from heaven

Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.

A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not
Till thou haft touched them; 'tis the voice of fong
A loud Hofanna fent from all thy works;
Which he that hears it with a fhout repeats,
And adds his rapture to the general praife.
In that bleft moment Nature, throwing wide
Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile
The author of her beauties, who, retired
Behind his own creation, works unseen
By the impure, and hears his power denied.
Thou art the fource and centre of all minds,
Their only point of reft, eternal Word!
From thee departing they are loft, and rove
At random without honour, hope, or peace.
From thee is all, that fooths the life of man,

His high endeavour, and his glad fuccefs,
His ftrength to fuffer, and his will to serve.
But oh thou bounteous Giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyfelf the crown!
Give what thou canft, without thee we are poor;
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

THE TA S K.

BOOK VI.

ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

Bells at a difiance.-Their effect.-A fine noon in

winter-heltered walk.-Meditation better than books. Our familiarity with the courfe of nature makes it appear less wonderful than it is.— The transformation that Spring effects in a shrubbery defcribed. A miftake concerning the course of nature corrected.-God maintains it by an unremitted act.-The amusements fashionable at this hour of the day reproved.—Animals happy, a delightful fight.-Origin of cruelty to animals.-That it is a great crime proved from Scripture.—That proof illuftrated by a tale.-A line drawn between the lawful and unlawful deftruction of them.— Their good and useful properties infifted on.— Apology for the encomiums bestowed by the author on animals.-Inftances of man's extravagant praise of man.- -The groans of the creation shall have an end.-A view taken of the refloration of all things. -An invocation and an invitation of him who fall bring it to pafs.-The retired man vindicated from the charge of uselessness.-Conclufion.