Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of death.
Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut,
Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff,
Eager ambition's fiery chase I see;

I see the circling hunt, of noisy men,

Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right,
Pursuing, and pursu'd, each other's prey;
As wolves, for rapine; as the fox, for wiles ;
Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all.

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?
What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame?
Earth's highest station ends in "Here he lies:"
And "Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song.
If this song lives, posterity shall know

One, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred,
Who thought ev'n gold might come a day too late;
Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme
For future vacancies in Church or State;
Some avocation deeming it-to die,
Unbit by rage canine of dying rich;
Guilt's blunder! and the loudest laugh of hell.
O my coevals! remnants of yourselves!
Poor human ruins, tott'ring o'er the grave!
Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees,
Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling,
Still more enamour'd of this wretched soil?
Shall our pale, wither'd hands, be still stretch'd out,
Trembling, at once, with eagerness and age?
With avarice, and convulsions, grasping hard?
Grasping at air! for what has carth beside?
Man wants but little; nor that little, long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
Years unexperienc'd rush on numerous ills;

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And soon as man, expert from time, has found
The key of life, it opes the gates of death.

When in this vale of years I backward look,
And miss such numbers, numbers too of such,
Firmer in health, and greener in their age,
And stricter on their guard, and fitter far
To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe
I still survive and am I fond of life,
Who scarce can think it possible, I live?
Alive by miracle! or, what is next,
Alive by Mead! if I am still alive,
Who long have buried what gives life to live,
Firmness of nerve, and energy of thought.
Life's lee is not more shallow, than impure,
And vapid; sense and reason show the door,
Call for my bier, and point me to the dust.

O thou great arbiter of life and death!
Nature's immortal, immaterial Sun!
Whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth
From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath
The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow,
To drink the spirit of the golden day,
And triumph in existence; and could know
No motive, but my bliss; and hast ordain'd
A rise in blessing! with the patriarch's joy,
Thy call I follow to the land unknown ;
I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust;
Or life, or death, is equal; neither weighs :
All weight in this-O let me live to thee!

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Though nature's terrors thus may be repress'd; Still frowns grim Death; guilt points the tyrant's spear. And whence all human guilt? From death forgot.

Ah me! too long I set at naught the swarm

Of friendly warnings, which around me flew ;
And smil'd, unsmitten: small my cause to smile!
Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot,
More dreadful by delay, the longer ere

;

They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound
O think how deep, Lorenzo! here it stings:
Who can appease its anguish? How it burns!
What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw?
What healing hand can pour the balm of peace?
And turn my sight undaunted on the tomb?
With joy, with grief, that healing hand I see;
Ah! too conspicuous! it is fix'd on high.

On high? What means my phrensy? I blaspheme;
Alas! how low! how far beneath the skies!

The skies it form'd; and now it bleeds for me—
But bleeds the balm I want-yet still it bleeds;
Draw the dire steel-ah, no! the dreadful blessing
What heart or can sustain, or dares forego?
There hangs all human hope: that nail supports
The falling universe: that gone, we drop;
Horror receives us, and the dismal wish
Creation had been smother'd in her bir-
Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust ;
When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne!
In heav'n itself can such indulgence dwell?
Oh, what a groan was there! a groan not his.
He seiz'd our dreadful right; the load sustain'd;
And heav'd the mountain from a guilty world.
A thousand worlds, so bought, were bought too dear;
Sensations new in angels' bosoms rise;

Suspend their song; and make a pause in bliss.
1 O for their song, to reach my lofty theme!
Inspire me, Night! with all thy tuneful spheres ;
Whilst I with seraphs share seraphic themes,

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And show to men the dignity of man;
Lest I blaspheme my subject with my song.
Shall Pagan pages glow celestial flame,

And Christian languish? On our hearts, not heads,
Falls the foul infamy: my heart! awake.

What can awake thee, unawak'd by this,

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Expended deity on human weal?"

Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night
Of heathen error, with a golden flood
Of endless day to feel, is to be fir'd;
And to believe, Lorenzo! is to feel.

Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Pow'r!
Still more tremendous, for thy wondrous love!
That arms, with awe more awful, thy commands;
And foul transgression dips in sevenfold night;
How our hearts tremble at thy love immense !
In love immense, inviolably just!

Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd,
Didst stain the cross; and work of wonders far
The greatest, that thy dearest far might bleed.

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Bold thought! shall I dare speak it, or repress
Should man more execrate, or boast, the guilt
Which rous'd such vengeance? which such love inflam'd?
O'er guilt (how mountainous !), with outstretch'd arms,
Stern justice, and soft-smiling love embrace,

Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne,
When seem'd its majesty to need support,
Or that, or man, inevitably lost :

What, but the fathomless of thought divine
Could labour such expedient from despair,
And rescue both? Both rescue! both exalt!
Oh, how are both exalted by the deed!
The wondrous deed! or shall I call it more?

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A wonder in omnipotence itself!
A mystery no less to gods than men!

Not, thus, our infidels th' Eternal draw,
A God all o'er, consummate, absolute,

Full-orb'd, in his whole round of rays complete :
They set at odds Heaven's jarring attributes;
And, with one excellence, another wound;
Maim Heaven's perfection, break its equal beams,
Bid mercy triumph over-God himself,
Undeified by their opprobrious praise:
A God all mercy, is a God unjust.

Ye brainless wits! ye baptiz'd infidels !

Ye worse for mending! wash'd to fouler stains!
The ransom was paid down; the fund of heav'n,
Heav'n's inexhaustible, exhausted fund,

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Amazing, and amaz'd, pour'd forth the price,
All price beyond: though curious to compute,
Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum:
Its value vast, ungrasp'd by minds create,
For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme.
And was the ransom paid? It was and paid
What can exalt the bounty more ?) for you.
The sun beheld it-No! the shocking scene,
Drove back his chariot: midnight veil'd his face;
Not such as this; not such as nature makes;
A midnight nature shudder'd to behold;
A midnight new! a dread cclipse (without
Opposing spheres) from her Creator's frown!
Sun! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain? or start
At that enormous load of human guilt,
Which bow'd His blessed head; o'erwhelm'd His cross;
Made groan the centre; burst earth's marble womb,
With pangs, strange pangs! deliver'd of her dead?
Hell howl'd; and heav'n that hour let fall a tear;

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