Their wit far brightest will be prov'd,
Who funk it in good sense;
And veneration most profound
Of dread Omnipotence.
'Tis that alone unlocks the gate
Of bleft Eternity;

O! may'st thou never, never lofe
That more than * golden key!

Whate'er may seem too rough excufe,
Your good I have at heart:
Since from my foul I wish you well;
As yet we must not part:

Shall you, and J, in love with life,
Life's future fchemes contrive,
The world in wonder not unjust,
That we are still alive?

What have we left? How mean in man
A fhadow's fhade to crave!

When life, fo vain! is vainer ftill,
'Tis time to take your leave :
Happier, than happieft 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,

Defcends into the fkies.

Alluding to Prussia.

0!

O! how diforder'd our machine,

When contradictions mix!

When nature strikes no less than twelve,

And folly points at fix !

To mend the moments of your heart,

How great is my delight Gently to wind your morals up,

And fet your hand aright!

That hand, which spread your wisdom wide
To poifon diftant lands:
Repent, recant; the tainted age
Your antidote demands;

To Satan dreadfully refign'd,
Whole herds rush down the steep
Of folly, by lewd wits poffefs'd,
And perish in the deep.

Men's praise your vanity pursues;
'Tis well, pursue it ftill;
But let it be of men deceas'd,
And you 'll resign the will;

And how fuperior they to those
At whofe applause you aim

How very far fuperior they

In number, and in name!

i

POST

POST SCRIPT.

THUS have I written, when to write

No mortal fhould prefume;

Or only write, what none can blame,
Hic jacet-for his tomb :

The public frowns, and cenfures loud
My puerile employ ;

Though just the cenfure, if you smile,
The fcandal I enjoy ;

But fing no more—no more I fing,
Or reaffume the lyre,

Unless vouchfaf'd an humble part
Where Raphael leads the choir :

What myriads fwell the concert loud!
Their golden harps refound
High, as the footstool of the throne,
And deep, as hell profound;

Hell (horrid contrast!) chord and song
Of raptur'd angels drowns
In felf-will's peal of blafphemies,
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 !

While this grand chorus shakes the skies

"Above, beneath the fun,

"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 muft from earth be banish'd too,
Or earth's another hell;

Madam! felf-will inflicts your pains :
Self-will's the deadly foe

Which deepens all the difmal fhades,
And points the shafts of woe:

Your debt to nature fully paid,
Now virtue claims her due:
But virtue's caufe I need not plead,
'Tis fafe; I write to You:

You know, that virtue's bafis lies

We are ftill toffing out at fea,

Our admiral in port.

Was death deny'd, this world, a scene

How difmal and forlorn!

To death we owe, that 'tis to man

A bleffing to be born;

When

When every other bleffing fails,
Or fapp'd by flow decay,

Or, ftorm'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 duft!

Well-pleas'd to bear heaven's darkest frown,
Your utmost power employ ;

'Tis noble chemistry to turn

Neceffity to joy.

Whate'er the colour of my fate,

My fate shall be my choice: Determin'd am I, whilst I breathe, To praife and to rejoice;

What ample caufe! triumphant hope!

O rich eternity!

I ftart not at a world in flames,

Charm'd with one glimpfe of thee:

And thou! its great inhabitant!

How glorious dost thou shine !
And dart through forrow, danger, death,
A beam of joy divine!

The void of joy (with fome concern

The truth fevere I tell)

Is an impenitent in guilt,
A fool or infidel;

3

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