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These doctors ne'er were pension’d to deceive thee; 1000
And Pagan tutors are thy taste.—They taught,
That, narrow views betray to misery:
That, wise it is to comprehend the whole :
That, Virtue, rose from Nature, ponder'd well,
The single base of Virtue built to heaven : 1005
That God, and Nature, our attention claim:
That, Nature is the glass reflecting God,
As, by the Sea, reflected is the Sun,
Too glorious to be gaz'd on in his sphere :
That, Mind immortal loves immortal aims :
That, boundless Mind affects a boundless Space:
That vait surveys, and the sublime of things,
The foul assimilate, and make her great :
That, therefore, heaven her glories, as a fund
Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 1015
Such are their doctrines; such the Night inspir’d.

And what more true? What truth of greater weight?
The foul of man was made to walk the skies;
Delightful outlet of her prison Here!
There, disincumber'd from her chains, the ties
of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large,
There, freely can respire, dilate, extend,
In full proportion let loose all her powers ;
And, undeluded, grasp at something great.
Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there ;
But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays;
Conternplating their grandeur, firds her own;
Dives deep in their æconomy divine,
Sits high in judgment on their various laws,
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And,

1020

1025

And, like a master, judges pot amifs.

1030 Hence greatly pleas'd, and justly proud, the foul Grows conscious of her birth celestial; breathés More life, more vigour, in her native air; And feels herself at home amongst the stars ; And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. 1035

What call we, then, the firmament, Lorenzo As Earth the body, since, the Skies sustain The foul with food, that gives immortal life, Call it, The noble pasture of the Mind; Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, 1040 And riots through the luxuries of thought. Call it, The Garden of the Deity, Blossom’d with stars, redundant in the growth Of fruit ambrosial; moral fruit to man. Call it, The breast-plate of the true High-priest, 1045 Ardent with gems oracular, that give, In points of highest moment, right response ; And ill neglected, if we prize our peace.

Thus, have we found a true astrology ; Thus, have we found a new, and noble fense,

1050
In which alone stars govern human fates.
O that the Stars (as fome have feign’d) let fall
Bloodshed, and havock, on embattled realms,
And rescued Monarchs from so black a guilt !
Bourbon ! this with how

generous
in a foe!

1055
Wouldst thou be great, wouldīt thou become a God,
And stick thy deathless name among the stars,
For mighty conquests on a needle's point?
Instead of forging chains for foreigners,

view,

Bafiile thy Tutor : Grandeur all thy aim ? 1060
As yet thou know'st not what it is: how great,
How glorious, then, appears the Mind of man,
When in it all the stars, and planets, roll !
And what it seems, it is: Great objects make
Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge; 1065
Those still more Godlike, as These more divine.

And more divine than These, thou canst not see.
Dazzled, o'er-power'd, with the delicious draught
Of miscellaneous splendors, how I reel
From thought to thought, inebriate, without end! 1070
An Eden, this! a Paradise unloft!
I meet the Deity in every
And tremble at my nakedness before him !
O that I could but reach the Tree of Life!
For Here it grows, unguarded from our taste ; 1075
No Flaming Sword denies our entrance Here;
Would man but gather, he might live for ever.

Lorenzo ! much of Moral hast thou feen.
Of curious arts art thou more fond ? Then mark
The Mathematic glories of the skies,

108
In number, weight, and measure, all ordain’d.
Lorenzo's boasted builders, Chance, and Fate,
Are left to finish his aërial towers ;
Wisdom and Choice, their well-known characters
Here deep impress; and claim it for their own. 1085
Though splendid all, no fplendor void of use;
Use rivals Beauty; Art contends with Power;
No wanton waste, amid effufe expence;
The great Oeconomist adjusting all

IIOO

To prudent pomp, magnificently wise,

1090 How rich the prospect ! and for ever new ! And newest to the man that views it most; For newer still in infinite fucceeds. Then, these aërial racers, O how swift! How the shaft loiters from the strongest string ! 1095 Spirit alone can distance the career. Orb above orb ascending without end ! Circle in circle, without end, inclos'd! Wheel, within wheel; Ezekiel ! like to thine ! Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream ; Though seen, we labour to believe it true! What involution! what extent! what swarms Of worlds, that laugh at Earth! immensely great ! Immensely distant from each other's spheres ! What, then, the wondrous Space through which they roll ?

I105 At once it quite ingulphs all human thought; 'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat.

Nor think thou feest a wild disorder here; Through this illu trious chaos to the fight, Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. The path prescrib’d, inviolably kept, Upbraids the lawless fallies of mankind. Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere; What knots are ty’d! How soon are they dissolv'd, And set the seeming marry'd planets free! I115 They rove for ever, without error rove ; Confusion unconfus'd! nor less admire This tumult untumultuous; all on wing!

IIIO

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1130

In motion, all! yet what profound repose !
What fervid action, yet no noise ! as aw'd
To filence, by the presence of their Lord;
Or hulh'd by His command, in love to man,
And bid let fall soft beams on human rest,
Restless themselves. On yon cærulean plain,
In exultation to Their God, and Thine,

1125
They dance, they fing eternal jubilee,
Eternal celebration of His praise.
But, since their Song arrives not at our ear;
Their Dance perplex'd exhibits to the fight
Fair Hieroglyphic of His peerless power.
Mark, how the Labyrinthian turns they take,
The circles intricate, and mystic maze,
Weave the grand cypher of Omnipotence;
To Gods, how great! how legible to Man !

Leaves so much wonder greater wonder itill ? 1135 Where are the pillars that support the skies? What more than Atlantean shoulder props Th’incumbent load ? what magic, what strange art, In fluid air these ponderous orbs sustains ? Who would not think them hung in golden chains ?-And so they are; in the high will of heaven, Which fixes all; makes adamant of air, Or air of adamant; makes all of nought, Or nought of all; if such the dread decree.

Imagine from their deep foundations torn 1115 The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad And towering Alps, all tost into the sea ; And, light as down, or volatile as air,

Their

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