And ask more space in Heaven, can roll at large
In man's capacious thought, and still leave room
For ampler orbs, for new creations there.
Can such a soul contract itself, to gripe
A point of no dimension, of no weight?
It can; it does: the world is such a point;
And of that point how small a part enslaves!
How small a part-of nothing, shall I say?
Why not?-Friends, our chief treasure, how they
Lucia, Narcissa fair, Philander, gone!
The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has oped
A triple mouth, and in an awful voice
Loud calls my soul, and utters all I sing.
How the world falls to pieces round about us,
And leaves us in a ruin of our joy!

[drop!

What says this transportation of my friends?
It bids me love the place where now they dwell,
And scorn this wretched spot they leave so poor.
Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee;

There, there, Lorenzo! thy Clarissa sails.
Give thy mind sea-room; keep it wide of earth,
That rock of souls immortal; cut thy cord;
Weigh anchor; spread thy sails; call every wind:
Eye thy great Pole-star; make the land of Life!
Two kinds of life has double-natured man,
And two of death; the last far more severe.
Life animal is nurtured by the Sun,

Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams:
Life rational subsists on higher food,
Triumphant in His beams who made the day:
When we leave that Sun, and are left by this,
(The fate of all who die in stubborn guilt)
'Tis utter darkness; strictly double death.
We sink by no judicial stroke of Heaven,

But Nature's course; as sure as plummets fall. Since God or man must alter ere they meet, (Since light and darkness blend not in one sphere) "Tis manifest, Lorenzo, who must change.

If, then, that double death should prove thy lot, Blame not the bowels of the Deity;

Man shall be bless'd, as far as man permits.
Not man alone, all rationals Heaven arms
With an illustrious, but tremendous power,
To counteract its own most gracious ends,
And this of strict necessity, not choice;
That power denied, men, angels, were no more
But passive engines, void of praise or blame.
A nature rational implies the power

Of being bless'd or wretched, as we please;
Else idle Reason would have nought to do,
And he that would be barr'd capacity
Of pain, courts incapacity of bliss.

Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom;
Invites us ardently, but not compels:

Heaven but persuades, almighty man decrees.
Man is the maker of immortal fates.
Man falls by man, if finally he falls;

And fall he must, who learns from death alone
The dreadful secret,—that he lives for ever.

Why this to thee ?-thee yet, perhaps, in doubt Of second life? but wherefore doubtful still? Eternal life is Nature's ardent wish:

What ardently we wish we soon believe:
Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroy'd:
What has destroy'd it?-shall I tell thee what?
When fear'd the future, 'tis no longer wish'd;
And when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve.
Thus Infidelity our guilt betrays.'

Nor that the sole detection! Blush, Lorenzo!

Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt.

The future fear'd?—An infidel, and fear?
Fear what? a dream? a fable?-How thy dread,
Unwilling evidence, and therefore strong,
Affords my cause an undesign'd support!
How Disbelief affirms what it denies!
'It, unawares, asserts immortal life.'-
Surprising! Infidelity turns out

A creed and a confession of our sins:
Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines.
Lorenzo! with Lorenzo clash no more,
Nor longer a transparent vizor wear.
Think'st thou Religion only has her mask?
Our infidels are Satan's hypocrites,

Pretend the worst, and, at the bottom, fail.
When visited by thought, (thought will intrude)
Like him they serve, they tremble and believe.
Is there hypocrisy so foul as this?

So fatal to the welfare of the world?

What detestation, what contempt, their due!
And, if unpaid, be thank'd for their escape,
That Christian candour they strive hard to scorn.
If not for that asylum, they might find
A hell on earth, nor scape a worse below.
With insolence and impotence of thought,
Instead of racking fancy to refute,

Reform thy manners, and the truth enjoy.—
But shall I dare confess the dire result?
Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand?
From purer manners to sublimer faith,

Is Nature's unavoidable ascent.

An honest Deist, where the Gospel shines,
Matured to nobler, in the Christian ends.
When that bless'd change arrives, e'en cast aside
This song superfluous: life immortal strikes