"Before thy feebleft beam--Look down--down--down, "On a poor breathing particle in duft,

"Or, lower, an immortal in his crimes.

2315

"His crimes forgive! forgive his virtues, too! "Thofe fmaller faults, half-converts to the right. "Nor let me close these eyes, which never more "May fee the fun (though night's defcending fcale "Now weighs up morn), unpity'd, and unbleft! 2320 “In Thy displeasure dwells eternal pain; "Pain, our averfion; pain, which strikes me now; "And, fince all pain is terrible to man,

Though tranfient, terrible; at Thy good hour, "Gently, ah gently, lay me in my bed,

"My clay-cold bed! by nature, now, so near;
"By nature, near; ftill nearer by disease!
"Till then, be this, an emblem of my grave:
"Let it out-preach the preacher; every night
"Let it out-cry the boy at Philip's ear;

2325

2330

"That tongue of death! that herald of the tomb ! "And when (the shelter of thy wing implor'd)

2335

My fenfes, footh'd, shall sink in soft repose, “O fink this truth still deeper in my soul, "Suggested by my pillow, fign'd by fate, "First, in fate's volume, at the page of man--"Man's fickly foul, though turn'd and tofs'd for ever, “From fide to fide, can rest on nought but Thee : "Here, in full truft; bereafter, in full joy; "On Thee, the promis'd, fure, eternal down "Of fpirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. "Nor of that pillow shall my foul despond ;

2340

"For

"For---Love almighty! Love almighty! (fing, « Exult, creation !) Love almighty, reigns! "That death of death! that cordial of despair! 2345 "And loud Eternity's triumphant fong!

"Of whom, no more::--For, O Thou Patron-God! "Thou God and Mortal! Thence more God to man! "Man's theme eternal! man's eternal theme! "Thou canst not 'scape uninjur'd from our praise. 2350

re

Uninjur'd from our praise can He escape,

"Who, difembofom'd from the Father, bows

"The heaven of heavens, to kifs the distant earth! "Breathes out in agonies a finless foul!

Against the Cross, Death's iron fceptre breaks ! 2355 "From famifh'd ruin plucks her human prey! "Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes! "Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt, "Deputes their fuffering brothers to receive! «And, if deep human guilt in payment fails "As deeper guilt prohibits our despair! "Injoins it, as our duty, to rejoice! ̧ "And (to close all) omnipotently kind, "* Takes his delights among the sons of men.”

2360

What words are thefe---And did they come from

heaven ?

And were they spoke to man? to guilty man?
What are all myfteries to love like this?
The fongs of angels, all the melodies
Of choral gods, are wafted in the found;
Heal and exhilarate the broken heart;

*Prov. chap. viii.

2365

2370

Though

Though plung'd, before, in horrors dark as night:
Rich prelibation of confummate joy!

Nor wait we diffolution to be bleft.

This final effort of the moral Muse,
How juftly* titled? nor for me alone :
For all that read; what spirit of support,
What heights of Confolation, crown my fong!

2375

Then, farewel Night! of darkness, now, no more :
Joy breaks; fhines; triumphs; 'tis eternal day.
Shall that which rifes out of nought complain

2380

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;

2394

True taste of life, and constant thought of death! 2385
The thought of death, fole victor of its dread!
Hope, be thy joy; and probity thy skill;
Thy patron He, whofe diadem has dropp'd
Yon gems of heaven; Eternity, thy prize :
And leave the racers 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, power
And laugh to fcorn the fools that aim at more.
How muft a fpirit, late escap'd from earth,
Suppofe Philander's, Lucia's, or Narciffa's,
The truth of things new-blazing in its eye,
Look back, aftonish'd, on the ways of men,
VOL. III.

G

*The Confolation,

2395

Whole

1

Whofe lives whole drift is to forget their graves!
And when our present privilege is past,
To fcourge us with due sense of its abuse,
The fame astonishment will seize us all.
What then must pain us, would preferve us now.
Lorenzo! 'tis not yet too late; Lorenzo!
Seize wifdom, ere 'tis torment to be wife;
That is, feize wisdom, ere she seizes thee.
For what, my small 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 filence whispering truths divine,
And truths divine converting pain to peace,
My fong the midnight raven has outwing'd,
And fhot, ambitious of unbounded scenes,
Beyond the flaming limits of the world,

Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight
Of fancy, when our hearts remain below?

2400

2405

2410

2415

Virtue abounds in flatterers and foes;

"Tis pride, to praise her; penance to perform.

2420

To more than words, to more than worth of tongue,

Lorenzo rife, at this aufpicious hour;

2425

An hour, when heaven 's most intimate with man ;

When, like a falling ftar, the divine

ray

Glides fwift into the bosom of the just;
And just are all, determin'd to reclaim ;
Which fets that title high within thy reach.

Awake,

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 intomb'd;

And Midnight, Univerfal Midnight! reigns.

2430

END OF THE NIGHT-THOUGHTS.

G 2

RESIG