Thefe doctors ne'er were penfion'd to deceive thee; 1000
And Pagan tutors are thy tafte.-They taught,
That, narrow views betray to mifery:

That, wife it is to comprehend the whole :
That, Virtue, rofe from Nature, ponder'd well,
The fingle bafe of Virtue built to heaven :
That God, and Nature, our attention claim:
That, Nature is the glafs 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 vaft furveys, and the fublime of things,
The foul affimilate, and make her great:
That, therefore, heaven her glories, as a fund
Of infpiration, thus spreads out to man.
Such are their doctrines; fuch the Night inspir'd.

1005

1010

1015

1020

And what more true? What truth of greater weight? The foul of man was made to walk the skies; Delightful outlet of her prifon Here! There, difincumber'd from her chains, the ties Of toys terreftrial, she can rove at large, There, freely can respire, dilate, extend, In full proportion let loose all her powers ; And, undeluded, grafp at fomething great. Nor, as a stranger, does fhe wander there; But, wonderful herself, through wonder ftrays; Contemplating their grandeur, firds her own; Dives deep in their economy divine,

Sits high in judgment on their various laws,

1025

And, like a mafter, judges not amifs.

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

What call we, then, the firmament, Lorenzo?—
As Earth the body, fince, the Skies sustain
The foul with food, that gives immortal life,
Call it, The noble pasture of the Mind;

1030

1035

Which there expatiates, ftrengthens, and exults, 1040 And riots through the luxuries of thought.

Call it, The Garden of the Deity,

Bloffom'd with stars, redundant in the growth
Of fruit ambrofial; moral fruit to man.

Call it, The breaft-plate of the true High-prieft, 1045
Ardent with gems oracular, that give,

In points of highest moment, right refponse;
And ill neglected, if we prize our peace.

1050

Thus, have we found a true aftrology;
Thus, have we found a new, and noble fenfe,
In which alone ftars govern human fates.
O that the Stars (as fome have feign'd) let fall
Bloodshed, and havock, on embattled realms,
And refcued Monarchs from fo black a guilt!
Bourbon this with how generous in a foe!
Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a God,
And stick thy deathlefs name among the stars,

For mighty conquefts on a needle's point?
Instead of forging chains for foreigners,

1055

Baftile

Baftile thy Tutor: Grandeur all thy aim?

1060

As yet thou know'ft 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
Thofe ftill more Godlike, as Thefe more divine.
And more divine than Thefe, thou canst not fee.
Dazzled, o'er-power'd, with the delicious draught
Of mifcellaneous fplendors, how I reel

From thought to thought, inebriate, without end! 1070
An Eden, this! a Paradife unloft!

I meet the Deity in every view,

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 haft thou feen.

Of curious arts art thou more fond? Then mark
The Mathematic glories of the fkies,
In number, weight, and measure, all ordain'd.
Lorenzo's boafted builders, Chance, and Fate,
Are left to finish his aërial towers;

Wisdom and Choice, their well-known characters
Here deep imprefs; and claim it for their own.
Though fplendid all, no fplendor void of use;
Ufe rivals Beauty; Art contends with Power;
No wanton waste, amid effufe expence ;
The great Oeconomist adjusting all

D 3

1080

1085

To prudent pomp, magnificently wife.

1090

How rich the profpect! and for ever new !

And neweft to the man that views it moft;

For newer ftill in infinite fucceeds.

Then, thefe aerial racers, O how swift!

How the fhaft loiters from the ftrongest ftring!

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 vifion or a dream;
Though feen, we labour to believe it true!
What involution! what extent! what fwarms
Of worlds, that laugh at Earth! immenfely great!
Immensely distant from each other's spheres!

What, then, the wondrous Space through which they

roll?

At once it quite ingulphs all human thought;

'Tis comprehenfion's abfolute defeat.

Nor think thou feeft a wild diforder here;
Through this illuftrious chaos to the fight,
Arrangement neat, and chafteft order, reign.
The path prefcrib'd, inviolably kept,
Upbraids the lawlefs fallies of mankind.
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere;

What knots are ty'd! How foon are they diffolv'd,
And fet the feeming marry'd planets free!
They rove for ever, without error rove;
Confufion unconfus'd! nor lefs admire

This tumult untumultuous; all on wing!

1105

ΙΙΙΟ

1115

In motion, all! yet what profound repofe !
What fervid action, yet no noise! as aw'd
To filence, by the presence of their Lord;
Or hufh'd by His command, in love to man,
And bid let fall foft beams on human rest,
Restless themselves. On yon coerulean plain,
In exultation to Their God, and Thine,
They dance, they fing eternal jubilee,
Eternal celebration of His praife.

But, fince 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 myftic maze,
Weave the grand cypher of Omnipotence;
To Gods, how great! how legible to Man!

Leaves fo much wonder greater wonder still? 1135 Where are the pillars that support the skies? What more than Atlantean fhoulder props Th' incumbent load? what magic, what strange art, In fluid air thefe ponderous orbs fuftains? Who would not think them hung in golden chains ?And fo 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 fuch the dread decree. Imagine from their deep foundations torn The moft gigantic fons of earth, the broad And towering Alps, all toft into the sea ; And, light as down, or volatile as air, D 4

1145

Their