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Yet know its title* flatters you, not me;

1390 Yours be the praise to make my title gool; Mine to bless Heaven, and triumph in your praise. But since so pestilential your disease, Though sovereign is the medicine I prescribe, As yet I'll neither triumph nor despair,

1395 But hope, ere long, my midnight dream wili wake Your hearts, and teach your wisdom—to be wise : For why should souls immortal, made for bliss, E’er wish (and wish in vain !) that souls could die ? What ne'er can die, oh! grant to live, and crown 1400 The wish, and aim, and labour of the skies ; Increase, and enter on the joys of Heaven : Thus shall my title paso a sacred seal, Receive an impriinatur from above, While angels shout-an Infide) Reclaim'd! 1405

To close, Lorenzo! spite of all my pains, Still seems it strange that thou shouldst live for ever? Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all ? This is a miracle, and that no more. Who gave beginning can exclude an end. 1410 Deny thou art; then doubt if thou shalt be. A miracle with miracles enclosed Is man ! and starts his faith at what is strange ? What less than wonders from the wonderful ? What less than miracles from God can flow? 1415 Admit a God-that mystery supreme ! That cause uncaused! all other won lors cease : Nothing is marvellous for him to do : Deny nim-all is mystery besides ; Millions of mysteries! each darker far

1420 That that thy wisdom wouid, unwisely shun. If weak thy faith, why choose the harder side ? We nothing know but what is marvellous ; Yet what is inarvellous we can't believe. So weak our reason, and so great our God, 1425

* The lafidel Reclaimed.

What most surprises in the sacred page,
Or full as strange, or stranger, must be true.
Faith is not reason's labour, but repose.

To faith and virtue why so backward, man?
From hence;—the present strongly strikes us all; 1430
The future, faintly : can we, then, be men ?
If men, Lorenzo! the reverse is right.
Reason is man's peculiar; sense the brute's.
The present is the scanty realm of Sense ;
The future, Reason's empire unconfined : 1435
On that expending all her godlike power,
She plans, provides, expatiates, triumphs, there :
There builds her blessings ! there expects her praise ;
And nothing asks of Fortune or of men.
And what is Reason ? be she thus defined ; 1440
Reason is upright stature in the soul.
Oh! be a man,—and strive to be a god.

For what?' (thou say’st) to damp the joys of life?
No; to give heart and substance to thy joys.
That tyrant, Hope, mark how she domineers ; 1445
She bids us quit realities for dreams,
Safety and peace for hazard and alarm.
That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul,
She Lids Ambition quit its taken prize,
Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 1450
Though bearing crowns, to spring at distant game,
And plunge in toils and dangers—for repose.
If hope precarious, and of things, when gain'd,
Of little moment and as little stay,
Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys; 1455
What then that hope which nothing can defeat,
Our leave unask'd ? rich hope of boundless bliss !
Bliss past man's power to paint it, Time's to close

This hope is earth's most estimable prize ;
This is man's portion, while no more than man : 1460
Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here;
Passions of prouder name befriends us less.
Joy has her tears, and transport has her death :

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Hope, like a cordial, innocent though strong,
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes, 1465
Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys :
'Tis all our present state can safely bear,
Health to the frame! and vigour to the mind !
A joy attemper'd! a chastised delight!
Like the fair summer evening, mild and sweet! 1470
'Tis man's full cup, his paradise below!

A bless'd hereafter, then, or hoped or gain’d,
Is all,,our whole of happiness ! full proof
I chose no trivial or inglorious theme.
And know, ye foes to song! (well meaning men, 1475
Though quite forgotten* half your Bible's praise !)
Important truths, in spite of verse, may please :
Grave minds you praise, nor can you praise too much
If there is weight in an eternity,
Let the grave listen,-and be graver still 1480

* The poetic parts of it.


Virtue's Apology:





And has all Nature, then, espoused my part ?
Have I bribed Heaven and Earth to plead against th oe ?
And is thy soul immortal ?-What remains ?
All, all, Lorenzo -make immortal bless'd.
Unbless'd immortals !-what can shock us more ? 5
And yet Lorenzo still affects the world ;
There stows his treasure ; thence his title draws,
Man of the world ! (for such wouldst thou be call'H!
And art thou proud of that inglorious style ?
Proud of reproach ? for a reproach it was,

In ancient days, and Christian,-in an age
When men were men, and not ashamed of Heaven,-
Fired their ainbition, as it crown'd their joy !
Sprinkled with dews from the Castalian font,
Fain would I rebaptize thee, and confer

15 A purer spirit, and a nobler name.

Thy fond attachments, fatal and inflamed, Point out my path, and dictate to my scng. To thee the world how fair ! how strongly strikes Ambitior.! and gay Pleasure stronger still! 20 Thy triple bane! the triple bolt, that lays Thy virtue dead; be these my triple theme ; Nor shall thy wit or wisdom be forgot.

Common the theme ; not so the song, if she

My sung invokes, Urania' deigns to smile. 25
The charm that chains us to the world, her foe,
If she dissolves, the man of earth, at once,
Starts from his trance, and sighs for other scenes ;
Scenes, where these sparks of night, these stars, sliall

Unnumber'd euns (for all things, as they are, 30
The bless'd behold,) and, in one glory, pour
Their blended blaze on man's astonish'd sight;
A blaze—the least illustrious object there.

Lorenzo ! since Eternal is at hand, To swallow Time's ambitions; as the vast 35 Leviathan the bubbles vain that ride High on the foaming billow ; what avail High titles, luigh descent, attainments high, If unattain’d our highest ? O Lorenzo ! What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 40 What towering hopes, what sallies from the Sun, What grand surveys of destiny divine, And pompous presage of unfathom'd fate, Should roll in bosoms where a spirit burns, Bound for Eternity! in bosoms read

45 By Him, who foibles in archangels sees ! On human hearts he bends a jealous eye, And marks, and in Heaven's register enrols, The rise and progress of each option there; Sacred to Doomsday ! that the page unfolds,

50 And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men.

And what an option, O Lorenzo ! thine ! This world ! and this, unrival'd by the skies ! A world where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold, Three demons that divide its realms between them, 55 With strokes alternate buffet to and fro Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball ; Till, with the giddy circle sick and tired, It pants for peace, and drops into despair. Such is the world Lorenzo sets above

60 That glorious promise angels were asteem’d

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