When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees? 440 Absurd! not rare! so great, so mean, is man. What wealth in senses such as these! what wealth In fancy, fired to form a fairer scene Than sense surveys! in Memory's firm record, Preserve its portrait, and report its fate! What wealth in intellect, that sovereign power! 450 455 The vitals, and the grace of civil life! And manners (sad exception!) set aside, Strikes out, with master-hand, a copy fair 460 Long, long ere Chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss. What wealth in souls that soar, dive, range around Disdaining limit or from place or time; And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear The' Almighty Fiat, and the trumpet's sound ' 465 Bold, on Creation's outside walk, and view What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; Commanding with omnipotence of thought, Creations new, in Fancy's field to rise! Souls that can grasp whate'er the' Almighty made, 470 And wander wild through things impossible! What wealth in faculties of endless growth, In quenchless passions violent to crave, In liberty to chocse, in power to reach, And in duration (how thy riches rise !) Ask you what power resides in feeble man, 475 That bliss to gain? Is Virtue's then, unknown? Its tenure sure, its income is divine. 480 High built abundance, heap on heap! for what' 485 490 495 And richer still what mortal can resist? Thus Wealth (a cruel task-master!) enjoins New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train! And murders Peace, which taught it first to shine. 500 The poor are half as wretched as the rich, Whose proud and painful privilege it is At once to bear a double load of woe, 505 Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease: A competence is all we can enjoy. O be content, where Heaven can give no more 510 More, like a flash of water from a lock, Quickens our spirit's movement for an hour, But soon its force is spent; nor rise our joys 515 The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns, 520 They fail to find what they se plainly see: Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 525 Of Happiness, nor know it is a shade; But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, How few can rescue opulence from want! 530 535 Not worlds possess'd can raise it; worlds destroy'd When thine, O Nature! ends: too bless'd to mourn Creation's obsequies. What treasure this! 540 The monarch is a beggar to the man. Immortal! ages pass'd, yet nothing gone! Morn without eve! a race without a goal! The meanest slave dares then Lorenzo scorn? 550 Man's lawful pride includes humility Stoops to the lowest; is too great to find Proprietors eternal of thy love' 555 Immortal! what can strike the sense so strong, As this the soul? it thunders to the thought, No more we slumber on the brink of Fate; Roused at the sound, the' exulting soul ascends 560 And breathes her native air, an air that feeds Quick kindles all that is divine within us, Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars. 565 Immortal! were but one immortal, how Would others envy! how would thrones adore! How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven! 570 575 Their terror those, and these their lustre lose; Eternity depending all achieves ; 580 Sets earth at distance; casts her into shades; Fortune's dread frowns and fascinating smiles, 585 590 Doubt you this truth? why labours your belief? Enthusiastic this?--then all are weak 595 600 But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height Unraptured, unexalted, uninflamed? What slave unbless'd, who from to-morrow's dawn 610 Expects an empire? he forgets his chain, And, throned in thought, his absent sceptre waves. And what a sceptre waits us! what a throne! Her own immense appointments to compute, 615 Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy: In spite of all the truths the Muse has sung, Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career, 620 625 Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and song? Are there, Lorenzo? Is it possible? Are there on earth (let me not call them men) Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts, Unconscious as the mountain of its ore, Or rock of its inestimable gem? 630 |