The Pang Most Poignant Of My Life Now Heightens My Delight; I See A Fair Creation Rise From Chaos, And Old Night: From What Seem'D Horror, And Despair, The Richest Harvest Rose; And Gave Me In The Nod Divine An Absolute Repose. Of All The Plunders Of Mankind, More Gross, Or Frequent, None, Than In Their Grief And Joy Misplac'D, Eternally Are Shown. But Whither Points All This Parade? It Says, That Near You Lies A Book, Perhaps Yet Unperus'D, Which You Should Greatly Prize: Of Self-Perusal, Science Rare! Few Know The Mighty Gain; Learn'D Prelates, Self-Unread, May Read Their Bibles O'Er In Vain: Self-Knowledge, Which From Heaven Itself (So Sages Tell Us) Came, What Is It, But A Daughter Fair Of My Maternal Theme? Unletter'D And Untravel'D Men An Oracle Might Find, Would They Consult Their Own Contents, The Delphos Of The Mind. Enter Your Bosom; There You'll Meet A Revelation New, A Revelation Personal; Which None Can Read But You. There Will You Clearly Read Reveal'D In Your Enlighten'D Thought, By Mercies Manifold, Through Life, To Fresh Remembrance Brought, A Mighty Being! And In Him A Complicated Friend, A Father, Brother, Spouse; No Dread Of Death, Divorce, Or End: Who Such A Matchless Friend Embrace, And Lodge Him In Their Heart, Full Well, From Agonies Exempt, With Other Friends May Part: As When O'Erloaded Branches Bear Large Clusters Big With Wine, We Scarce Regret One Falling Leaf From The Luxuriant Vine. My Short Advice To You May Sound Obscure Or Somewhat Odd, Though 'Tis The Best That Man Can Give,-- "E'En Be Content With God." Through Love He Gave You The Deceas'D, Through Greater Took Him Hence; This Reason Fully Could Evince, Though Murmur'D At By Sense. This Friend, Far Past The Kindest Kind, Is Past The Greatest Great; His Greatness Let Me Touch In Points Not Foreign To Your State; His Eye, This Instant, Reads Your Heart; A Truth Less Obvious Hear; This Instant Its Most Secret Thoughts Are Sounding In His Ear: Dispute You This? O! Stand In Awe, And Cease Your Sorrow; Know, That Tears Now Trickling Down, He Saw Ten Thousand Years Ago; And Twice Ten Thousand Hence, If You Your Temper Reconcile To Reason'S Bound, Will He Behold Your Prudence With A Smile; A Smile, Which Through Eternity Diffuses So Bright Rays, The Dimmest Deifies E'En Guilt, If Guilt, At Last, Obeys: Your Guilt (For Guilt It Is To Mourn When Such A Sovereign Reigns), Your Guilt Diminish; Peace Pursue; How Glorious Peace In Pains! Here, Then, Your Sorrows Cease; If Not, Think How Unhappy They, Who Guilt Increase By Streaming Tears, Which Guilt Should Wash Away; Of Tears That Gush Profuse Restrain; Whence Burst Those Dismal Sighs? They From The Throbbing Breast Of One (Strange Truth!) Most Happy Rise; Not Angels (Hear It, And Exult!) Enjoy A Larger Share Than Is Indulg'D To You, And Yours, Of God'S Impartial Care; Anxious For Each, As If On Each His Care For All Was Thrown; For All His Care As Absolute, As All Had Been But One. And Is He Then So Near! So Kind!-- How Little Then, And Great, That Riddle, Man! O! Let Me Gaze At Wonders In His Fate; His Fate, Who Yesterday Did Crawl A Worm From Darkness Deep, And Shall, With Brother Worms, Beneath A Turf, To-Morrow Sleep; How Mean!--And Yet, If Well Obey'D His Mighty Master'S Call, The Whole Creation For Mean Man Is Deem'D A Boon Too Small: Too Small The Whole Creation Deem'D For Emmets In The Dust! Account Amazing! Yet Most True; My Song Is Bold, Yet Just: Man Born For Infinite, In Whom Nor Period Can Destroy The Power, In Exquisite Extremes, To Suffer, Or Enjoy; Give Him Earth'S Empire (If No More) He's Beggar'D, And Undone! Imprison'D In Unbounded Space! Benighted By The Sun! For What The Sun'S Meridian Blaze To The Most Feeble Ray Which Glimmers From The Distant Dawn Of Uncreated Day? 'Tis Not The Poet'S Rapture Feign'D Swells Here The Vain To Please; The Mind Most Sober Kindles Most At Truths Sublime As These; They Warm E'En Me.--I Dare Not Say, Divine Ambition Strove Not To Bless Only, But Confound, Nay, Fright Us With Its Love; And Yet So Frightful What, Or Kind, As That The Rending Rock, The Darken'D Sun, And Rising Dead, So Formidable Spoke? And Are We Darker Than That Sun? Than Rocks More Hard, And Blind? We Are;--If Not To Such A God In Agonies Resigned. Yes, E'En In Agonies Forbear To Doubt Almighty Love; Whate'Er Endears Eternity, Is Mercy From Above; What Most Imbitters Time, That Most Eternity Endears, And Thus, By Plunging In Distress, Exalts Us To The Spheres; Joy'S Fountain Head! Where Bliss O'Er Bliss, O'Er Wonders Wonders Rise, And An Omnipotence Prepares Its Banquet For The Wise: Ambrosial Banquet! Rich In Wines Nectareous To The Soul! What Transports Sparkle From The Stream, As Angels Fill The Bowl! Fountain Profuse Of Every Bliss! Good-Will Immense Prevails; Man'S Line Can't Fathom Its Profound An Angel'S Plummet Fails. Thy Love And Might, By What They Know, Who Judge, Nor Dream Of More; They Ask A Drop, How Deep The Sea! One Sand, How Wide The Shore! Of Thy Exuberant Good-Will, Offended Deity! The Thousandth Part Who Comprehends, A Deity Is He. How Yonder Ample Azure Field With Radiant Worlds Is Sown! How Tubes Astonish Us With Those More Deep In Ether Thrown! And Those Beyond Of Brighter Worlds Why Not A Million More?-- In Lieu Of Answer, Let Us All Fall Prostrate, And Adore. Since Thou Art Infinite In Power, Nor Thy Indulgence Less; Since Man, Quite Impotent And Blind, Oft Drops Into Distress; Say, What Is Resignation? 'T Is Man'S Weakness Understood; And Wisdom Grasping, With A Hand Far Stronger, Every Good. Let Rash Repiners Stand Appall'D, In Thee Who Dare Not Trust; Whose Abject Souls, Like Demons Dark, Are Murmuring In The Dust; For Man To Murmur, Or Repine At What By Thee Is Done, No Less Absurd, Than To Complain Of Darkness In The Sun. Who Would Not, With A Heart At Ease, Bright Eye, Unclouded Brow, Wisdom And Goodness At The Helm, The Roughest Ocean Plough? What, Though I'm Swallow'D In The Deep? Though Mountains O'Er Me Roar? Jehovah Reigns! As Jonah Safe, I'm Landed, And Adore: Thy Will Is Welcome, Let It Wear Its Most Tremendous Form; Roar, Waves; Rage, Winds! I Know That Thou Canst Save Me By A Storm. From The Immortal Spirits Born, To Thee, Their Fountain, Flow, If Wise; As Curl'D Around To Theirs Meandering Streams Below: Not Less Compell'D By Reason'S Call, To Thee Our Souls Aspire, Than To Thy Skies, By Nature'S Law, High Mounts Material Fire; To Thee Aspiring They Exult, I Feel My Spirits Rise, I Feel Myself Thy Son, And Pant For Patrimonial Skies; Since Ardent Thirst Of Future Good, And Generous Sense Of Past, To Thee Man'S Prudence Strongly Ties, And Binds Affection Fast; Since Great Thy Love, And Great Our Want, And Men The Wisest Blind, And Bliss Our Aim; Pronounce Us All Distracted, Or Resigned; Resign'D Through Duty, Interest, Shame; Deep Shame! Dare I Complain, When (Wondrous Truth!) In Heaven Itself Joy Ow'D Its Birth To Pain? And Pain For Me! For Me Was Drain'D Gall'S Overflowing Bowl; And Shall One Drop To Murmur Bold Provoke My Guilty Soul? If Pardon'D This, What Cause, What Crime Can Indignation Raise? The Sun Was Lighted Up To Shine, And Man Was Born To Praise; And When To Praise The Man Shall Cease, Or Sun To Strike The View; A Cloud Dishonors Both; But Man'S The Blacker Of The Two: For Oh! Ingratitude How Black! With Most Profound Amaze At Love, Which Man Belov'D O'Erlooks, Astonish'D Angels Gaze. Praise Cheers, And Warms, Like Generous Wine; Praise, More Divine Than Prayer; Prayer Points Our Ready Path To Heaven; Praise Is Already There. Let Plausive Resignation Rise, And Banish All Complaint; All Virtues Thronging Into One, It Finishes The Saint; Makes The Man Bless'D, As Man Can Be; Life'S Labours Renders Light; Darts Beams Through Fate'S Incumbent Gloom, And Lights Our Sun By Night; 'T Is Nature'S Brightest Ornament, The Richest Gift Of Grace, Rival Of Angels, And Supreme Proprietor Of Peace; Nay, Peace Beyond, No Small Degree Of Rapture 'T Will Impart; Know, Madam! When Your Heart'S In Heaven, "All Heaven Is In Your Heart." But Who To Heaven Their Hearts Can Raise? Denied Divine Support, All Virtue Dies; Support Divine The Wise With Ardour Court: When Prayer Partakes The Seraph'S Fire, 'T Is Mounted On His Wing, Bursts Thro' Heaven'S Crystal Gates, And Sure Audience Of Its King: The Labouring Soul From Sore Distress That Bless'D Expedient Frees; I See You Far Advanc'D In Peace; I See You On Your Knees: How On That Posture Has The Beam Divine For Ever Shone! An Humble Heart, God'S Other Seat!(58) The Rival Of His Throne: And Stoops Omnipotence So Low! And Condescends To Dwell, Eternity'S Inhabitant, Well Pleas'D, In Such A Cell? Such Honour How Shall We Repay? How Treat Our Guest Divine? The Sacrifice Supreme Be Slain! Let Self-Will Die: Resign. Thus Far, At Large, On Our Disease; Now Let The Cause Be Shown, Whence Rises, And Will Ever Rise, The Dismal Human Groan: What Our Sole Fountain Of Distress? Strong Passion For This Scene; That Trifles Make Important, Things Of Mighty Moment Mean: When Earth'S Dark Maxims Poison Shed On Our Polluted Souls, Our Hearts And Interests Fly As Far Asunder, As The Poles. Like Princes In A Cottage Nurs'D, Unknown Their Royal Race, With Abject Aims, And Sordid Joys, Our Grandeur We Disgrace; O! For An Archimedes New, Of Moral Powers Possess'D, The World To Move, And Quite Expel That Traitor From The Breast. No Small Advantage May Be Reap'D From Thought Whence We Descend; From Weighing Well, And Prizing Weigh'D Our Origin, And End: From Far Above The Glorious Sun To This Dim Scene We Came: And May, If Wise, For Ever Bask In Great Jehovah'S Beam: Let That Bright Beam On Reason Rous'D In Awful Lustre Rise, Earth'S Giant Ills Are Dwarf'D At Once, And All Disquiet Dies. Earth'S Glories Too Their Splendour Lose, Those Phantoms Charm No More; Empire'S A Feather For A Fool, And Indian Mines Are Poor: Then Levell'D Quite, Whilst Yet Alive, The Monarch And His Slave; Not Wait Enlighten'D Minds To Learn That Lesson From The Grave: A George The Third Would Then Be Low As Lewis In Renown, Could He Not Boast Of Glory More Than Sparkles From A Crown. When Human Glory Rises High As Human Glory Can; When, Though The King Is Truly Great, Still Greater Is The Man; The Man Is Dead, Where Virtue Fails; And Though The Monarch Proud In Grandeur Shines, His Gorgeous Robe Is But A Gaudy Shroud. Wisdom! Where Art Thou? None On Earth, Though Grasping Wealth, Fame, Power, But What, O Death! Through Thy Approach, Is Wiser Every Hour; Approach How Swift, How Unconfin'D! Worms Feast On Viands Rare, Those Little Epicures Have Kings To Grace Their Bill Of Fare: From Kings What Resignation Due To That Almighty Will, Which Thrones Bestows, And, When They Fail, Can Throne Them Higher Still! Who Truly Great? The Good And Brave, The Masters Of A Mind The Will Divine To Do Resolv'D, To Suffer It Resign'D. Madam! If That May Give It Weight, The Trifle You Receive Is Dated From A Solemn Scene, The Border Of The Grave; Where Strongly Strikes The Trembling Soul Eternity'S Dread Power, As Bursting On It Through The Thin Partition Of An Hour; Hear This, Voltaire! But This, From Me, Runs Hazard Of Your Frown; However, Spare It; Ere You Die, Such Thoughts Will Be Your Own. In Mercy To Yourself Forbear My Notions To Chastise, Lest Unawares The Gay Voltaire Should Blame Voltaire The Wise: Fame'S Trumpet Rattling In Your Ear, Now, Makes Us Disagree; When A Far Louder Trumpet Sounds, Voltaire Will Close With Me: How Shocking Is That Modesty, Which Keeps Some Honest Men From Urging What Their Hearts Suggest, When Brav'D By Folly'S Pen. Assaulting Truths, Of Which In All Is Sown The Sacred Seed! Our Constitution'S Orthodox, And Closes With Our Creed: What Then Are They, Whose Proud Conceits Superior Wisdom Boast? Wretches, Who Fight Their Own Belief, And Labour To Be Lost! Though Vice By No Superior Joys Her Heroes Keeps In Pay; Through Pure Disinterested Love Of Ruin They Obey! Strict Their Devotion To The Wrong, Though Tempted By No Prize; Hard Their Commandments, And Their Creed A Magazine Of Lies From Fancy'S Forge: Gay Fancy Smiles At Reason Plain, And Cool; Fancy, Whose Curious Trade It Is To Make The Finest Fool. Voltaire! Long Life'S The Greatest Curse That Mortals Can Receive, When They Imagine The Chief End Of Living Is To Live; Quite Thoughtless Of Their Day Of Death, That Birthday Of Their Sorrow! Knowing, It May Be Distant Far, Nor Crush Them Till--To-Morrow. These Are Cold, Northern Thoughts, Conceiv'D Beneath An Humble Cot; Not Mine, Your Genius, Or Your State, No Castle Is My Lot:(59) But Soon, Quite Level Shall We Lie; And, What Pride Most Bemoans, Our Parts, In Rank So Distant Now, As Level As Our Bones; Hear You That Sound? Alarming Sound! Prepare To Meet Your Fate! One, Who Writes Finis To Our Works, Is Knocking At The Gate; Far Other Works Will Soon Be Weigh'D; Far Other Judges Sit; Far Other Crowns Be Lost Or Won, Than Fire Ambitious Wit: Their Wit Far Brightest Will Be Prov'D, Who Sunk It In Good Sense; And Veneration Most Profound Of Dread Omnipotence. 'Tis That Alone Unlocks The Gate Of Blest Eternity; O! Mayst Thou Never, Never Lose That More Than Golden Key!(60) Whate'Er May Seem Too Rough Excuse, Your Good I Have At Heart: Since From My Soul I Wish You Well; As Yet We Must Not Part: Shall You, And I, In Love With Life, Life'S Future Schemes Contrive, The World In Wonder Not Unjust, That We Are Still Alive? What Have We Left? How Mean In Man A Shadow'S Shade To Crave! When Life, So Vain! Is Vainer Still, 'Tis Time To Take Your Leave: Happier, Than Happiest Life, Is Death, Who, Falling In The Field Of Conflict With His Rebel Will, Writes Vici, On His Shield; So Falling Man, Immortal Heir Of An Eternal Prize; Undaunted At The Gloomy Grave, Descends Into The Skies. O! How Disorder'D Our Machine, When Contradictions Mix! When Nature Strikes No Less Than Twelve, And Folly Points At Six! To Mend The Moments Of Your Heart, How Great Is My Delight Gently To Wind Your Morals Up, And Set Your Hand Aright! That Hand, Which Spread Your Wisdom Wide To Poison Distant Lands: Repent, Recant; The Tainted Age Your Antidote Demands; To Satan Dreadfully Resign'D, Whole Herds Rush Down The Steep Of Folly, By Lewd Wits Possess'D, And Perish In The Deep. Men'S Praise Your Vanity Pursues; 'Tis Well, Pursue It Still; But Let It Be Of Men Deceas'D, And You'll Resign The Will; And How Superior They To Those At Whose Applause You Aim; How Very Far Superior They In Number, And In Name! Postscript. Thus Have I Written, When To Write No Mortal Should Presume; Or Only Write, What None Can Blame, Hic Jacet--For His Tomb: The Public Frowns, And Censures Loud My Puerile Employ; Though Just The Censure, If You Smile, The Scandal I Enjoy; But Sing No More--No More I Sing Or Reassume The Lyre, Unless Vouchsaf'D An Humble Part Where Raphael Leads The Choir: What Myriads Swell The Concert Loud! Their Golden Harps Resound High As The Footstool Of The Throne, And Deep As Hell Profound: Hell (Horrid Contrast!) Chord And Song Of Raptur'D Angels Drowns In Self-Will'S Peal Of Blasphemies, And Hideous Burst Of Groans; But Drowns Them Not To Me; I Hear Harmonious Thunders Roll (In Language Low Of Men To Speak) From Echoing Pole To Pole! Whilst This Grand Chorus Shakes The Skies-- "Above, Beneath The Sun, Through Boundless Age, By Men, By Gods, Jehovah'S Will Be Done!" 'Tis Done In Heaven; Whence Headlong Hurl'D Self-Will With Satan Fell; And Must From Earth Be Banish'D Too, Or Earth'S Another Hell; Madam! Self-Will Inflicts Your Pains: Self-Will'S The Deadly Foe Which Deepens All The Dismal Shades, And Points The Shafts Of Woe: Your Debt To Nature Fully Paid, Now Virtue Claims Her Due: But Virtue'S Cause I Need Not Plead, 'Tis Safe; I Write To You: You Know, That Virtue'S Basis Lies In Ever Judging Right; And Wiping Error'S Clouds Away, Which Dim The Mental Sight: Why Mourn The Dead? You Wrong The Grave, From Storm That Safe Resort; We Still Are Tossing Out At Sea, Our Admiral In Port. Was Death Denied, This World, A Scene How Dismal And Forlorn! To Death We Owe, That 'Tis To Man A Blessing To Be Born; When Every Other Blessing Fails, Or Sapp'D By Slow Decay, Or, Storm'D By Sudden Blasts Of Fate, Is Swiftly Whirl'D Away; How Happy! That No Storm, Or Time, Of Death Can Rob The Just! None Pluck From Their Unaching Heads Soft Pillows In The Dust! Well Pleas'D To Bear Heaven'S Darkest Frown, Your Utmost Power Employ; 'Tis Noble Chemistry To Turn Necessity To Joy. Whate'Er The Colour Of My Fate, My Fate Shall Be My Choice: Determin'D Am I, Whilst I Breathe, To Praise And To Rejoice; What Ample Cause! Triumphant Hope! O Rich Eternity! I Start Not At A World In Flames, Charm'D With One Glimpse Of Thee: And Thou! Its Great Inhabitant! How Glorious Dost Thou Shine! And Dart Through Sorrow, Danger, Death, A Beam Of Joy Divine! The Void Of Joy (With Some Concern The Truth Severe I Tell) Is An Impenitent In Guilt, A Fool Or Infidel! Weigh This, Ye Pupils Of Voltaire! From Joyless Murmur Free; Or, Let Us Know, Which Character Shall Crown You Of The Three. Resign, Resign: This Lesson None Too Deeply Can Instill; A Crown Has Been Resign'D By More, Than Have Resign'D The Will; Though Will Resign'D The Meanest Makes Superior In Renown, And Richer In Celestial Eyes, Than He Who Wears A Crown; Hence, In The Bosom Cold Of Age, It Kindled A Strange Aim To Shine In Song; And Bid Me Boast The Grandeur Of My Theme: But Oh! How Far Presumption Falls Its Lofty Theme Below! Our Thoughts In Life'S December Freeze, And Numbers Cease To Flow. First! Greatest! Best! Grant What I Wrote For Others, Ne'Er May Rise To Brand The Writer! Thou Alone Canst Make Our Wisdom Wise; And How Unwise! How Deep In Guilt! How Infamous The Fault! "A Teacher Thron'D In Pomp Of Words, Indeed, Beneath The Taught!" Means Most Infallible To Make The World An Infidel; And, With Instructions Most Divine, To Pave A Path To Hell; O! For A Clean And Ardent Heart, O! For A Soul On Fire, Thy Praise, Begun On Earth, To Sound Where Angels String The Lyre; How Cold Is Man! To Him How Hard (Hard, What Most Easy Seems) "To Set A Just Esteem On That, Which Yet He--Most Esteems!" What Shall We Say, When Boundless Bliss Is Offer'D To Mankind, And To That Offer When A Race Of Rationals Is Blind? Of Human Nature Ne'Er Too High Are Our Ideas Wrought; Of Human Merit Ne'Er Too Low Depress'D The Daring Thought.