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O'er juft, o'er facred, all-forbidden ground,

Drunk with the burning fcent of place or power, 980
Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die.

Or, if for men you take them, as I mark
Their manners, thou their various fates furvey.
With aim mif-measur'd, and impetuous speed,
Some darting, ftrike their ardent with far off,
Through fury to poffefs it: Some fucceed,
But ftumble, and let fall the taken prize.
From fome, by fudden blafts, 'tis whirl'd away,
And lodg'd in bofoms that ne'er dreamt of gain.
To fome it fticks fo clofe, that, when torn off,
Torn is the man, and mortal is the wound.
Some, o'er-enamour'd of their bags, run mad,
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread.
Together fome (unhappy rivals!) feize,
And rend abundance into poverty;

Loud croaks the raven of the law, and fmiles:
Smiles too the goddess; but smiles most at those,
(Juft victims of exorbitant defire!)

Who perish at their own request, and, whelm'd
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire.
Fortune is famous for her numbers flain,
The number (mall, which happiness can bear.
Though various for a while their fates
One curse involves them all: at death's approach,
All read their riches backward into lofs,
And mourn, in just proportion to their store.

at laft

And death's approach (if orthodox my song)

Is haften'd by the lure of fortune's smiles.

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And

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And art thou still a glutton of bright gold?
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin?
Death loves a fhining mark, a signal blow;
A blow, which, while it executes, alarms;
And ftartles thousands with a fingle fall.
As when some stately growth of oak, or pine,
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her fhade, 1015
The fun's defiance, and the flock's defence;

By the strong strokes of labouring hinds fubdued,
Loud groans her laft, and, rushing from her height,
In cumbrous ruin, thunders to the ground:

The confcious foreft trembles at the shock,
And hill, and stream, and distant dale, refound.

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These high-aim'd darts of death, and these alone, Should I collect, my quiver would be full.

A quiver, which, fufpended in mid air,

Or near heaven's archer, in the zodiack, hung, 1025 (So could it be) should draw the public eye,

The

gaze and contemplation of mankind!

A constellation awful, yet benign,

To guide the gay through life's tempeftuous wave;
Nor fuffer them to ftrike the common rock,

"From greater danger to grow more fecure,
“And, wrapt in happiness, forget their fate.”
Lyfander, happy past the common lot,

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Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear.

He woo'd the fair Afpafia: fhe was kind:

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In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bleft:

All who knew, envy'd; yet in envy lov'd:

Can fancy form more finisht happiness ?

Fixt

Fixt was the nuptial hour.

Rofe on the founding beach.

Her stately dome

The glittering spires 1040
Float in the wave, and break against the shore :
So break thofe glittering fhadows, human joys.
The faithless morning fmil'd: he takes his leave,
To re-embrace, in ecftafies, at eve.

The rifing ftorm forbids. The news arrives :
Untold, fhe faw it in her fervant's eye.
She felt it feen (her heart was apt to feel);
And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid,
In fuffocating forrows, fhares his tomb.

Now, round the sumptuous, bridal monument,
The guilty billows innocently roar;

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And the rough failor paffing, drops a tear.

A tear? Can tears fuffice?-But not for me.

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How vain our efforts! and our arts how vain!

The diftant train of thought I took to shun,
Has thrown me on my fate-Thefe died together;
Happy in ruin! undivorc'd by death!

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Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace-
Narciffa! Pity bleeds at thought of thee.
Yet thou waft only near me; not myself.
Survive myself?-That cures all other wce.
Narciffa lives; Philander is forgot.

O the foft commerce! O the tender tyes,
Clofe-twifted with the fibres of the heart!

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Which, broken, break them; and drain off the foul 1065
Of human joy; and make it pain to live-
And is it then to live? When fuch friends part,
"Tis the furvivor dies-My heart, no more.

NIGHT THE SIXTH.

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED.

IN TWO PARTS.

Containing the NATURE, PROOF, and IMPORTANCE, of IMMORTALITY.

PART THE FIRST.

Where, among other Things, GLORY and RICHES are particularly confidered.

то

THE RIGHT HON. HENRY PELHAM,

FIRST LORD COMMISSIONER OF THE TREASURY, AND CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.

FE

PREFACE.

EW ages have been deeper in difpute about religion than this. The dispute about religion, and the practice of it, feldom go together. The fhorter, therefore, the difpute the better. I think it may be reduced to this fingle queftion, Is man immortal, or is be not? If he is not, all our difputes are mere amuseinents, or trials of skill. In this cafe, truth, reason, religion, which give our difcourfes fuch pomp and folemnity,

folemnity, are (as will be fhewn) mere empty found, without any meaning in them. But if man is immortal, it will behave him to be very serious about eternal confequences; or, in other words, to be truly religious. And this great fundamental truth, unestablished, or unawakened in the minds of men, is, I conceive, the real source and support of all our infidelity; how remote soever the particular objections advanced may feem to be from it.

Senfible appearances affect most men much more than abstract reasonings; and we daily fee bodies drop around us, but the foul is invisible. The power which inclination has over the judgment, is greater than can be well conceived by those that have not had an experience of it; and of what numbers is it the fad interest that fouls fhould not furvive! The heathen world confeffed, that they rather hoped, than firmly believed immortality! And how many heathens have we still amongst us! The facred page affures us, that life and immortality is brought to light by the Gofpel: but by how many is the Gospel rejected, or overlooked! From thefe confiderations, and from my being, accidentally, privy to the sentiments of fome particular persons, I have been long perfuaded that moft, if not all, our infidels (whatever name they take, and whatever scheme, for argument's fake, and to keep themfelves in countenance, they patronize) are supported in their deplorable error, by fome doubt of their immortality, at the bottom. And I am fatisfied, that men once thoroughly convinced of their immortality, are not far from being Chriftians.

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