Whilst this grand chorus fhakes the skies

"Above, beneath the fun,

"Through boundlefs age, by men, by gods, "Jehovah's will be done

"Tis done in heaven; whence headlong hurl'd
Self-will with Satan fell;

And muft from earth be banish'd too,
Or earth's another hell;

Madam! felf-will inflicts your pains :
Self-will 's the deadly foe

Which deepens all the dismal shades,
And points the fhafts of woe:

Your debt to nature fully paid,
Now virtue claims her due:
But virtue's caufe I need not plead,
'Tis fafe; I write to You:

You know, that virtue's bafis lies
In ever judging right;
And wiping error's clouds away,
Which dim the mental fight:

Why mourn the dead? you wrong the grave,

From ftorm that fafe refort;

We are ftill toffing out at fea,

Our admiral in port.

Was death deny'd, this world, a scene.

How difmal and forlorn!

To death we owe, that 'tis to man

A bleffing to be born;

When

When every other bleffing fails,
Or fapp'd by flow decay,

Or, ftorm'd by fudden blafts of fate,
Is fwiftly whirl'd away;

How happy! that no ftorm, or time,

Of death can rob the just!

None pluck from their unaching heads
Soft pillows in the duft!

Well-pleas'd to bear heaven's darkest frown,
Your utmost power employ ;

'Tis noble chemistry to turn

Neceffity to joy.

Whate'er the colour of my fate,
My fate shall be my choice:
Determin'd am I, whilft I breathe,
To praife and to rejoice;

What ample caufe! triumphant hope!

O rich eternity!

I start not at a world in flames,

Charm'd with one glimpse of thee:

And thou! its great inhabitant!
How glorious doft thou shine!
And dart through forrow, danger, death,
A beam of joy divine !

The void of joy' (with fome concern

The truth fevere I tell)

Is an impenitent in guilt,
A fool or infidel;

3

Weigh

Weigh this, ye pupils of Voltaire !

From joyless murmur free;

Or, let us know, which character
Shall crown you of the three.

Refign, refign: this leffon none
Too deeply can instill;

A crown has been refign'd by more,

Than have refign'd the will

Though will refign'd the meaneft makes

Superior in renown,

And richer in celestial eyes,

Than he who wears a crown;

Hence, in the bofom cold of age,
It kindled a strange aim
To fhine in fong; and bid me boast
The * grandeur of my theme;
But oh! how far prefumption falls
Its lofty theme below!

Our thoughts in life's December freeze,
And numbers ceafe to flow.

First! greatest! beft! grant what I wrote

For others, ne'er may rife

To brand the writer; thou alone

Canft make our wisdom wife;

And how unwife! how deep in guilt!

How infamous the fault!

"A teacher thron'd in pomp of words,

"Indeed, beneath the taught !"

VOL. III.

L

* Page 87.

Means

Means most infallible to make
The world an infidel;

And, with inftructions most divine,
To pave a path to hell;

O for a clean and ardent heart,
O! for a foul on fire,

Thy praise, begun on earth, to found
Where angels ftring the lyre;

How cold is man? to him how hard
(Hard, what most easy seems)
"To fet a juft esteem on that,

"Which yet he-most esteems."

What fhall we fay, when boundless blifs
Is offer'd to mankind,
And, to that offer when a race

Of rationals is blind?

Of human nature ne'er too high
Are our ideas wrought;
Of human merit ne'er too low
Deprefs'd the daring thought.

ON