Beneath mishapen Chaos, and the field

Of fighting atoms, where hot, moist, and dry,
Wage an eternal war with dismal roar;

The difmal roar breaks fmoothly on the ground,
Sacred to horror, and eternal night:

Here Silence fits, whofe vifionary shape

In folds of wreathy mantling finks obfcure,
And in dark fumes reclines his drowsy head;
An urn he holds, from whence a lake proceeds,
Wide, flowing gently, fmooth, and Lethe nam'd:
Hither compell'd, each foul muft drink long draughts
Of those forgetful ftreams, 'till forms within,
And all the great ideas fade and die :

For if vaft thought should play about a mind-
Inclos'd in flesh, and dragging cumbrous life,
Flutt'ring and beating in the mournful cage,
It foon would break its grates and wing away :
'Tis therefore my decree, the foul return
Naked from off this beach, and perfect blank,
To vifit the new world; and ftrait to feel

Itself, in crude confiftence closely fhut,

The dreadful monument of just revenge;

Immur'd by heaven's own hand, and plac'd erect
On fleeting matter all imprison'd round

With walls of clay; th' ætherial mould shall bear
The chain of members, deafen'd with an ear,
Blinded by eyes, and manacled in hands.
Here anger, vaft ambition, and disdain,
And all the haughty movements rise and fall,
As ftorms of neighbouring atoms tear the foul
And hope, and love, and all the calmer turns.
Of easy hours, in their gay gilded shapes,
With fudden run, skim o'er deluded minds,
As matter leads the dance; but one defire,
Unsatisfy'd, shall mar ten thousand joys.

The rank of beings, that shall first advance,
Drink deep of human life; and long shall stay
On this great scene of cares. From all the rest,

That longer for the deftin'd body wait,

Less penance I expect; and fhort abode

In those pale dreary kingdoms will content:
Each has his lamentable lot, and all,

On different racks, abide the pains of life.
The pensive spirit takes the lonely grove:
Nightly he vifits all the fylvan scenes,

Where far remote, a melancholy moon

Raising her head, ferene and fhorn of beams,

Throws here and there the glimmerings thro' the trees,

To

To make more aweful darkness. Starry lights,
Hung up on high, fhed round 'em as they burn
A pale fad influence; and they gild the plains
With doubtful rays, which strike within the fhades
A trembling luftre and uncertain light.

The SAGE fhall haunt this folitary ground,

And view the dismal landscape, limn'd within
In horrid fhades, mix'd with imperfect light.
Here JUDGMENT, blinded by delufive SENSE,
Contracted through the cranny of an eye,

Shoots up faint languid beams, to that dark seat,
Wherein the foul bereav'd of native fire,
Sits intricate, in mifty clouds obscur'd,

Ev'n from itself conceal'd, and there prefides
O'er jarring images with Reason's sway,

Which by his ordering more confounds their form;
And by decifions more embroils the fray:

The more he strives t'appease, the more he feels
The struggling furges of the darksome void
Impetuous, and the thick revolving thoughts
Encount'ring thoughts, image on image turn'd,
A Chaos of wild fcience, where sometimes
The clashing notions strike out casual light,
Which foon must perish and be lost again

VOL. I.

N

In

In the thick darkness round it. Now, he tries
With all his might to raise fome weighty thought,
Of me, of fate, or of th' eternal round,

Which but recoils to crush the labouring mind.
High are his reasonings, but the feeble clue
Of fleeting images he draws in vain

To wond'rous length; (for ftill the turning maze
Eludes his art) its end flies far away,

And leaves him tracing round the toilsome path,
Returning oft on the fame beaten thought.
For much of good he talks, and life ferene,
Of happiness deny'd, the dismal wafte

Of wisdom's privilege, and th' obdurate breast,
Stubborn in anguifh; idle wisdom all,
Weak forcery to charm a real pain;

Diftafting crowds and business, thus he feeks
Diversion in himfelf, but with deep thoughts
He kindles doubt; and while he ftrives to blow
The afhes off, revives the brand of care.

Hence far remov'd, a diff'rent noify race
In cities full and frequent take their feat,'
Where honour's crufh'd, and gratitude opprefs'd
With fwelling hopes of gain, that raise within
A tempeft, and, driv'n onward by fuccefs,

Can

Can find no bounds. For creatures of a day
Stretch their wide cares to ages; full increase
Starves the penurious foul, while empty found
Fills the ambitious; that fhall ever shrink,
Pining with endless cares, whilft this fhall fwell
To tympany enormous. Bright in arms
Here shines the hero, out he fiercely leads
A martial throng, his inftruments of rage,
To fill the world with death, and thin mankind.
Ambition drives, and round the world he roams,
Marking his way with blood; the dreadful noife
Begets a fame; and all the breath he leaves
Is spent in his false praise, and vainly bloats
The tyrant's foul; while high his kingdoms rife
In fleeting pomp, hov'ring their gaudy wings
Around the fervile globe, that tamely bends
Beneath his haughty reign; and all his flaves
Under his yoke fhall groan, and scarce shall groan
Without a crime. Here torturing engines roar
With human voice difguis'd; earth, water, fire,
Are made (dire elements of cruelty!)
Subfervient to his luft, and power to kill;
Yet fhall the herd endure, nor dare to break
United their imaginary chain;