As the safe port, the peaceful filent shore,
Where he may reft, life's tedious voyage o'er :
He, and he only, is of death afraid,
Whom his own confcience has a coward made;
Whilft he, who Virtue's radiant course has run,
Defcends like a ferenely-fetting fun:
His thoughts triumphant Heav'n alone employs,
And hope anticipates his future joys.
So good, fo bleft th' illuftrious Hough we find,
Whose image dwells with pleasure on my mind ;
The Mitre's glory, Freedom's constant friend,
In times which ask'd a champion to defend
Who after near a hundred virtuous years,
His fenfes perfect, free from pains and fears,
Replete with life, with honors, and with age,
Like an applauded actor left the stage;
Or like fome victor in th' Olympic games,
Who, having run his course, the crown of Glory claims.
From this just contrast plainly it appears,
How Conscience can infpire both hopes and fears;
But whence proceed these hopes, or whence this dread, If nothing really can affect the dead?
See all things join to promife, and prefage
The fure arrival of a future age!
• Bishop of Worcester.
Whate'er their lot is here, the good and wife,
Nor doat on life, nor peevishly despise.
An honest man, when Fortune's storms begin,
Has Confolation always fure within;
And, if she fends a more propitious gale,
He's pleas'd, but not forgetful it may fail.
Nor fear that he, who fits fo loose to life,
Should too much fhun its labors, and its ftrife
And fcorning wealth, contented to be mean,
Shrink from the duties of this bustling scene;
Or, when his country's fafety claims his aid,
Avoid the fight inglorious, and afraid :
Who scorns life moft muft furely be moft brave,
And he, who pow'r contemns, be least a flave:
Virtue will lead him to Ambition's ends,
And prompt him to defend his country, and his friends.
But still his merit you can not regard,
Who thus pursues a pofthumous reward;
His foul, you cry, is uncorrupt and great,
Who quite uninfluenc'd by a future state,
Embraces Virtue from a nobler sense
Of her abstracted, native excellence,
From the self-conscious joy her effence brings,
The beauty, fitnefs, harmony of things.
It may be so: yet he deserves applause,
Who follows where inftructive Nature draws;
Aims at rewards by her indulgence giv❜n,
And foars triumphant on her wings to heav'n.
Say what this venal virtuous man pursues,
No mean rewards, no mercenary views;
Not wealth ufurious, or a numʼrous train,
Not fame by fraud acquir'd, or title vain!
He follows but where Nature points the road,
Rifing in Virtue's fchool, 'till he afcends to God.
But we th' inglorious common herd of man,
Sail without compass, toil without a plan ;
In Fortune's varying ftorms for ever tost,
Shadows pursue, that in pursuit are lost;
Mere infants all, 'till life's extremest day,
Scrambling for toys, then toffing them away.
Who refts of Immortality affur'd
Is fafe, whatever ills are here endur'd:
He hopes not vainly in a world like this,
To meet with pure uninterrupted bliss;
For good and ill, in this imperfect state,
Are ever mix'd by the decrees of Fate.
With Wisdom's richest harvest Folly grows,
And baleful hemlock mingles with the rofe;
All things are blended, changeable, and vain,
No hope, no wish we perfectly obtain;
God may perhaps (might human Reason's line
Pretend to fathom infinite defign)
Have thus ordain'd things, that the restless mind
No happiness compleat on earth may find;
And, by this friendly chastisement made wife,
To heav'n her fafeft, beft retreat may rise.
Come then, fince now in fafety we have past
Through Error's rocks, and fee the port at last,
Let us review, and recollect the whole. -
Thus ftands my argument- The thinking foul
Cannot terreftrial, or material be,
But claims by Nature Immortality:
God, who created it, can make it end,
We queftion not, but cannot apprehend
He will; because it is by him endued
With strong ideas of all-perfect Good:
With wond'rous pow'rs to know, and calculate
Things too remote from this our earthly ftate;
With fure prefages of a life to come,
All falfe and useless, if beyond the tomb
Our beings cease: we therefore can't believe
God either acts in vain, or can deceive.
If every rule of equity demands,
That Vice and Virtue from the Almighty's hands,
Should due rewards, and punishments receive,
And this by no means happens whilft we live,
It follows, that a time muft furely come,
When each shall meet their well-adjusted doom:
Then fhall this fcene, which now to human fight
Seems fo unworthy Wisdom infinite,
A fyftem of confummate skill appear,
And every cloud difpers'd, be beautiful and clear.
Doubt we of this! what folid proof remains,
That o'er the world a wife Difpofer reigns?
Whilst all Creation speaks a pow'r divine,
Is it deficient in the main defign?
Not fo: the day fhall come, (pretend not now
Prefumptuous to enquire or when, or how)
But after death fhall come th' important day,
When God to all his juftice fhall display;
Each action with impartial eyes regard,
And in a juft proportion punish and reward.
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