Has nature's Lord inverted nature's plan?
Is man now made for what was made for man?
There must be pleasures past the reach of sense, Some nobler source must happiness dispense: Reason, arise! and vindicate thy claim,
Flash on our minds the joy-infusing flame;
Pour forth the fount of light, whose endless store
Thought drinks insatiate, while it thirsts for more.
And thou, seraphic flame! who could'st inspire
The prophet's voice, and wrap his soul in fire;
Ray of th' eternal beam! who canst pervade
The distant past, and future's gloomy shade:
While trembling reason tempts heav'n's dazzling
Sublime her force, and guide her dubious flight;
Strengthen'd by thee, she bears the streaming blaze,
And drinks new light from truth's immortal rays.
Great, only evidence of things divine!
By thee reveal'd, the mystic wonders shine!
What puzzled sophists vainly would explore,
What humbled pride in silence must adore,
What plainly mark'd in heav'n's deliver❜d page,
Makes the taught hind more wise than Greece's sage.
Yet reason proves thee in her low degree,
And owns thy truths, from their necessity.
Conspicuous now is happiness display'd, Possessing Him for whom alone we're made,
For He alone all human bliss compleats,
To him alone th' expanding bosom beats;
Who fills each faculty, each pow'r can move,
Exerts all thought, and deep absorbs all love;
Whose ceaseless being years would tell in vain,
Whose attributes immense all bounds disdain.
No sickly taste the heav'nly rapture cloys,
Nor wearied senses sink in whelming joys;
While, rais'd above low matter's grosser frame,
Pure spirit blazes in His purer flame.
Such are th' immortal blessings that attend
The just and good, the patriot and the friend.
Nor such alone in distant prospect cheer,
They taste heav'n's joys anticipated here.
These in the smiling cups of pleasure flow,
Or, mingling, sooth the bitter stream of woe;
These pay the loss of honors, and of place,
And teach that guilt alone is true disgrace;
These with the glorious exile cheerful rove,
And, far from courts, fresh bloom in Curio's grove.
Long may such bliss, by such enjoy'd, attest, The greatly virtuous are the greatly blest! Enough there are amidst yon gorgeous train, Who, wretched, prove all other joys are vain.
So shines the truth these humble lines unfold, "Fair virtue ever is unwisely sold.” Too mean a price sublimest fortune brings,
Too mean the wealth, the smiles, the crowns of kings:
For rais'd o'er these, she makes our bliss secure,
The present pleasing, and the future sure.
While prosp❜rous guilt a sad reverse appears,
And in the tasteless now, the future fears.
HEAVEN in the human breast implants
Fit appetites for all our wants;
With hunger prompts to strength'ning food,
With love of praise to public good;
These to their objects strait convey,
While reason winds her tardy way.
Yet in one centre should unite,
Faith, instinct, reason, appetite;
One perfect plan ordain'd to trace,
And nature dignify with grace;
In one great system meant to roll,
To move, support, and guide the whole.
But some there are who rigid blame The mind that thirsts for righteous fame;
And with weak lights presumptuous scan
The springs which move predestin'd man.
And some there are, (accurs'd their art!)
Though all the Nine their charms impart,
Who in false forms of great and just,
Clothe av❜rice, treachery, rage and lust :
As if superior beings suit
Those attributes which sink the brute.
But vainly chime the partial lays,
Chaste Fame rejects all spurious praise.
She, fairest offspring of the skies,
The goddess of the brave and wise,
Whose sacred impulse prompts the best
To succour and preserve the rest,
Is deaf to every private call,
And wakes but at the voice of all.
From heaps of ill-collected gain,
From hecatombs by heroes slain,
From courts, where guilty greatness dwells,
She flies to penury and cells;
With Erskine, pious exile, goes,
To sooth a drooping father's woes;
Or mingling with the orphan-train,
She sings the bounties of Germain.
Nor pow'r, nor policy of state,
Can ever give intrinsic weight:
And should fallacious art display
O'er titled dross a golden ray,
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