Place me, O heav'n, in fome retreat
There let the serious death-watch beat,
There let me felf in filence shun,

To feel thy will, which fhould be done.
Then comes the Spirit to our hut,
When faft the fenfes' doors are shut;
For fo divine and pure a guest

The emptiest rooms are furnish'd best.
O Contemplation! air ferene

From damps of fenfe, and fogs of spleen!
Pure mount of thought! thrice holy ground,
Where grace, when waited for, is found.
Here 'tis the foul feels fudden youth,
And meets exulting, virgin Truth;
Here, like a breeze of gentlest kind,
Impulfes ruftle thro' the mind;

Here fhines that light with glowing face,
The fuse divine, that kindles grace;
Which, if we trim our lamps, will last,
Till darkness be by dying past,
And then goes out at end of night,
Extinguish'd by superior light.

Ah me! the heats and colds of life,
Pleasure's and pain's eternal ftrife,
Breed formy paffions, which confin❜d,
Shake, like th' Eolian cave, the mind.
And raise despair, my lamp can last,
Plac'd where they drive the furious blast.

Falfe

Falfe eloquence, big empty found, Like showers, that rush upon the ground, Little beneath the furface goes,

All streams along and muddy flows.

This finks, and fwells the buried grain,
And fructifies like fouthern rain.

His art, well hid in mild discourse,
Exerts perfuafion's winning force,
And nervates fo the good defign,
That king Agrippa's cafe is mine.
Well-natur'd, happy fhade, forgive!
Like you I think, but cannot live.
Thy scheme requires the world's contempt,
That, from dependence life exempt;
And conftitution fram'd fo ftrong,

This world's worst climate cannot wrong.
Not fuch my lot, not Fortune's brat,
I live by pulling off the hat;
Compell'd by station every hour
To bow to images of power;
And, in life's busy scenes immers❜d,
See better things, and do the worst.
Eloquent Want, whofe reafons fway,
And make ten thousand truths give way,
While I your scheme with pleasure trace,
Draws near, and stares me in the face.
Confider well your state, she cries,
Like others kneel, that you may rise;

Hold

Hold doctrines, by no fcruples vex'd,
To which preferment is annex'd,

Nor madly prove, where all depends,
Idolatry upon your friends.

See, how you like my rueful face,
Such you must wear, if out of place.

Crack'd is your brain to turn recluse
Without one farthing out at ufe.

They, who have lands, and safe bank-ftock,
With faith fo founded on a rock,
May give a rich invention ease,
And conftrue fcripture how they please.
The honour'd prophet, that of old
Us'd heav'n's high counfels to unfold,
Did, more than courier angels, greet
The crows, that brought him bread and meat.

PRE

PRE-EXISTENCE:

A POEM,

In Imitation of MILTON.

Has quoniam cæli nondum dignamur honore,
Quas dedimus certè terras habitare finamus.

OW had th' archangel trumpet, rais'd fublimè

Now

Above the walls of heav'n, begun to found;

All æther took the blaft, and hell beneath
Shook with celestial noise; th' almighty hoft
Hot with purfuit, and reeking with the blood
Of guilty cherubs fmear'd in fulphurous duft,
Paufe at the known command of founding gold.
At first they close the wide Tartarian gates,
Th' impenetrable folds on brazen hinge
Roll creaking horrible; the din beneath
O'ercomes the roar of flames, and deafens hell.
Then through the folid gloom with nimble wing
They cut their shining traces up to light ;

Return'd upon the edge of heavenly day,
Where thinnest beams play round the vaft obfcure,
And with eternal gleam drive back the night.
They find the troops less stubborn, less involv’d
In crime and ruin, barr'd the realms of peace,
Yet uncondemn'd to baleful feats of woe,

Doubtful and fuppliant; all the plumes of light
Moult from their fhuddering wings, and fickly fear
Shades every face with horror; conscious guilt
Rolls in the livid eye-ball, and each breast
Shakes with the dread of future doom unknown.
'Tis here the wide circumference of heaven
Opens in two vaft gates, that inward turn
Voluminous, on jafper columns hung
By geometry divine: they ever glow
With living sculptures, that arife by turns
T'imboss the shining leaves, by turns they fet.
To give fucceeding argument their place;
In holy hieroglyphicks on they move,
The gaze of journeying angels, as they pafs
Oft looking back, and held in deep furprize.
Here ftood the troops diftinct; the cherub guard
Unbarr'd the fplendid gates, and in they roll
Harmonious; for a vocal spirit fits

Within each hinge, and, as they onward drive,
In just divifions breaks the numerous jarr
With fymphony melodious, fuch as spheres
Involv'd in tenfold wreaths are faid to found.

Out