Their bulks enormous, dancing on the waves,
In time, and measure, exquifite; while all
The winds, in emulation of the fpheres,
Tune their fonorous inftruments aloft;
The concert fwell, and animate the ball.
Would this appear amazing? What, then, worlds,
In a far thinner element fuftain'd,
And acting the fame part, with greater skill,
More rapid movement, and for noblest ends?
More obvious ends to pafs, are not these stars
The feats majestic, proud imperial thrones,
On which angelic delegates of heaven,
At certain periods, as the Sovereign nods,
Discharge high trufts of Vengeance, or of Love;
To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand defign,
And acts moft folemn still more folemnize?
Ye Citizens of air! what ardent thanks,
What full effufion of the grateful heart,
Is due from man indulg'd in such a sight!
A fight fo noble! and a fight fo kind!
It drops new truths at every new survey!
Feels not Lorenzo fomething ftir within,
That fweeps away all period? As these spheres
Meafure duration, they no less inspire
The Godlike hope of ages without end.
The boundless Space, through which these rovers take
Their reftless roam, fuggests the fifter thought
Of boundless Time. Thus, by kind Nature's skill,
To man un-labour'd, that important guest,
Eternity, finds entrance at the Sight:
And an Eternity, for man ordain'd,
Or these his deftin'd midnight counfellors,
The Stars, had never whisper'd it to man.
Nature informs, but ne'er infults, her fons.
Could fhe then kindle the most ardent with
To difappoint it?-That is blafphemy.
Thus, of thy creed a fecond article,
Momentous, as the existence of a God,
Is found (as I conceive) where rarely fought;
And thou may'st read thy Soul immortal, Here.
Here, then, Lorenzo! on these glories dwell;
Nor want the gilt, illuminated, roof,
That calls the wretched Gay to dark delights.
Affemblies?—This is one divinely bright;
Here, un-endanger'd in health, wealth, or fame,
Range through the faireft, and the Sultan fcorn.
He, wife as Thou, no Crefcent holds fo fair,
As that, which on his turbant awes a world;
And thinks the Moon is proud to copy him.
Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give,
A mind fuperior to the charms of Power.
Thou muffled in delufions of this life!
Can yonder Moon turn ocean in his bed,
From fide to fide, in conftant ebb and flow,
And purify from french his watery realms?
And fails her moral influence? wants the power
To turn Lorenzo's ftubborn tide of thought
From stagnating on Earth's infected shore,
And purge from nuifance his corrupted heart?
Fails her attraction when it draws to heaven.?
Nay, and to what thou valuest more, Earth's joy!
Minds elevate, and panting for Unseen,
And defecate from Senfe, alone obtain
Full relish of exiftence un-deflower'd,
The Life of life, the Zeft of worldly blifs:
All elfe on earth amounts-to what? To This:
"Bad to be Suffer'd; bleffings to be Left:"
Earth's richest inventory boasts no more.
Of higher scenes be, then, the call obey'd.
O let me gaze!-Of gazing there's no end.
O let me think!-Thought too is wilder'd here ;
In mid-way flight imagination tires;
Yet foon re-prunes her wing to foar anew,
Her point unable to forbear, or gain;
So great the pleasure, so profound the plan!
A banquet, this, where men and angels meet,
Eat the fame Manna, mingle earth and heaven.
How diftant fome of thefe nocturnal funs!
So diftant (fays the fage), 't were not abfurd
To doubt, if beams, fet out at Nature's birth,
Are yet arriv'd at this fo foreign world;
Though nothing half fo rapid as their flight.
An eye of awe and wonder let me roll,
And roll for ever: who can fatiate fight
In fuch a fcene? in fuch an ocean wide
Of deep aftonishment? where depth, height, breadth, Are loft in their extremes; and where to count
The thick-fown glories in this field of fire,
Perhaps a Seraph's computation fails.
Now, go, Ambition! boat thy boundless might
In conqueft o'er the tenth part of a grain.
And yet Lorenzo calls for miracles,
To give his tottering faith a folid base.
Why call for lefs than is already thine?
Thou art no novice in theology;
What is a Miracle ?-'Tis a reproach,
'Tis an implicit fatire, on mankind;
And while it fatisfies, it cenfures too.
To common sense, great Nature's course proclaims
A Deity: when mankind falls asleep,
A Miracle is fent, as an alarm;
To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again,
By recent argument, but not more strong:
Say, which imports more plenitude of power,
Or nature's laws to fix, or to repeal?
To make a fun, or frop his mid career?
To countermand his orders, and fend back
The flaming courier to the frighted Eaft,
Warm'd, and aftonish'd, at his evening ray?
Or bid the Moon, as with her journey tir'd,
In Ajalon's foft, flowery vale repofe?
Great things are thefe; ftill greater, to create.
From Adam's bower look down through the whole train
Of miracles;-refiftlefs is their power?
They do not, can not, more amaze the mind,
Than this, call'd un-miraculous furvey,
If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen,
If feen with human eyes. The Brute, indeed,
Sees nought but Spangles here; the Fool, no more.
Say'ft thou," The courie of Nature governs all ?"
The Courfe of Nature is the Art of God. The miracles thou call'ft for, This attest; For fay, could Nature Nature's courfe control? But, miracles apart, who fees Him not, Nature's Controler, Author, Guide, and End! Who turns his eye on Nature's midnight face, But muft inquire- What hand behind the scene, 1275 "What arm Almighty, put these wheeling globes "In motion, and wound up the vast machine? "Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs? "Who bowl'd them flaming through the dark profound, "Numerous as glittering gems of morning-dew, 1280 "Or fparks from populous cities in a blaze, "And fet the bofom of Old Night on fire? "Peopled her defart, and made horror smile ?” Or, if the military style delights thee,
(For ftars have fought their battles, leagu'd with man) "Who marshals this bright hoft? enrolls their names? "Appoints their poits, their marches, and returns, "Punctual, at ftated periods? who disbands "These veteran troops, their final duty done, "If e'er disbanded ?"-He, whofe potent word, 1290 Like the loud trumpet, levy'd first their powers In Night's inglorious empire, where they flept In beds of darkness: arm'd them with fierce flames, Arrang'd, and difciplin'd, and cloath'd in gold; And call'd them out of Chaos to the field, Where now they war with Vice and Unbelief. O let us join this army! joining thefe, Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour,
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