In those who put forth all they had of man
Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher,
But weak in wings, or planets perch'd, and thought
What was their highest must be their ador'd.

But they how weak who could no higher mount?
And are there, then, Lorenzo! those to whom
Unseen, and unexistent are the same?
And if incomprehensible is join'd,

Who dare pronounce it madness to believe?
Why has the mighty Builder thrown aside
All measure in his work? stretch'd out his line
So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole?
Then (as he took delight in wide extremes)
Deep in the bosom of his universe

Dropp'd down that reas'ning mite, that insect, man,
To crawl and gaze, and wonder at the scene ?—
That man might ne'er presume to plead amazement
For disbelief of wonders in himself.

Shall God be less miraculous than what

His hand has form'd? shall mysteries descend
From unmysterious? things more elevate
Be more familiar? uncreated lie

More obvious than created to the grasp
Of human thought? The more of wonderful
Is heard in him, the more we should assent.
Could we conceive him, God he could not be
Or he not God, or we could not be men.

A God alone can comprehend a God:

Man's distance how immense! On such a theme, Know this, Lorenzo! (seem it ne'er so strange) Nothing can satisfy but what confounds;

Nothing but what astonishes is true.

The scene thou seest attests the truth I sing,
And ev'ry star sheds light upon thy creed.
These stars, this furniture, this cost of heaven,
If but reported, thou hadst neʼer believ'd ;
But thine eye tells thee the romance is true.
The grand of Nature is th' Almighty's oath
In Reason's court, to silence Unbelief.

How my mind, op'ning at this scene, imbibes
The moral emanations of the skies,

While nought, perhaps, Lorenzo less admires !
Has the Great Sov'reign sent ten thousand worlds
To tell us he resides above them all
In Glory's unapproachable recess?
And dare earth's bold inhabitants deny
The sumptuous, the magnific embassy

A moment's audience? Turn we, nor will we hear
From whom they come, or what they would impart
For man's emolument, sole cause that stoops
Their grandeur to man's eye? Lorenzo! rouse;
Let thought awaken'd, take the lightning's wing,
And glance from east to west, from pole to pole,
Who sees but is confounded, or convinc'd?

Renounces Reason, or a God adores?
Mankind was sent into the world to see:
Sight gives the science needful to their peace;
That obvious science asks small learning's aid.
Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar?
Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns?
Or travel history's enormous round?
Nature no such hard task enjoins: she gave
A make to man directive of his thought;
A make set upright, pointing to the stars,

As who shall say, " Read thy chief lesson there."
Too late to read this manuscript of heaven,
When, like a parchment-scroll, shrunk up by flames,
It folds Lorenzo's lesson from his sight.
Lesson how various! not the God alone,

I see his ministers; I see, diffus'd
In radiant orders, essences sublime,
Of various offices, of various plume,
In heavenly liveries distinctly clad,

Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold,
Or all commix'd: they stand, with wings outspread,
List'ning to catch the master's least command,
And fly thro' nature ere the moment ends;
Numbers innumerable!-Well conceiv'd

By Pagan and by Christian! O'er each sphere
Presides an angel, to direct its course,

And feed, or fan, its flames; or to discharge

Other high trusts unknown: for who can see
Such pomp of matter, and imagine mind,
For which alone inanimate was made,
More sparingly dispens'd? That nobler son,
Far liker the great Sire!'Tis thus the skies
Informs us of superiors numberless,

As much, in excellence, above mankind,
As above earth, in magnitude, the spheres.
These, as a cloud of witnesses, hang o'er us:
In a throng'd theatre are all our deeds.
Perhaps a thousand demi-gods descend
On ev'ry beam we see, to walk with men.
Awful reflection; strong restraint from ill!

Yet here our virtue finds still stronger aid
From these ethereal glories sense surveys.
Something, like magic, strikes from this blue vault :
With just attention is it view'd? we feel
A sudden succour, unimplor'd, unthought;
Nature herself does half the work of man.
Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks,
The promontory's height, the depth profound
Of subterranean excavated grots,

Black-brow'd, and vaulted high and yawning wide,
From Nature's structure, or the scoop of time;
If ample of dimension, vast of size,

Ev'n these an aggrandizing impulse give;

Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights

Ev'n these infuse.-But what of vast in these?
Nothing-or we must own the skies forgot.
Much less in art.-Vain Art! thou pigmy pow'r!
How dost thou swell, and strut with human pride,
To shew thy littleness! What childish toys,
Thy wat❜ry columns squirted to the clouds!
Thy bason'd rivers and imprison'd seas!
Thy mountains moulded into forms of men!
Thy hundred gated capitals! or those
Where three days' travel left us much to ride;
Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought,
Arches, triumphal, theatres immense,

Or nodding gardens pendent in mid air!
Or temples proud to meet their gods half-way!
Yet these affect us in no common kind:
What then the force of such superior scenes?
Enter a temple, it will strike an awe:
What awe from this the Deity has built?
A good man seen, tho' silent, counsel gives:
The touch'd spectator wishes to be wise.
In a bright mirror his own hands have made,
Here we see something like the face of God.
Seems it not then enough to say, Lorenzo,
To man abandon'd, "Hast thou seen the skies?"
And yet so thwarted Nature's kind design

By daring man, he makes her sacred awe
(That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation