TH

HIS iron age (so fraudulent and bold!) Touch'd with this love, would be an age of gold: Not, as they feign'd, that oaks should honey drop, Or land neglected bear an unfown crop :

Love would make all things easy, fafe, and cheap;
None for himself would either fow or reap:
Our ready help and mutual love would yield
A nobler harvest than the richest field;
Famine and death, confin'd to certain parts,
Extended are by barrennefs of hearts.
Some pine for want, where others furfeit now,
But then we should the use of plenty know.
Love would betwixt the rich and needy ftand;
And spread Heaven's bounty with an equal hands
At once the givers and receivers blefs;

Increase their joy, and make their fuffering lefs.
Who for himself no miracle would make,
Difpens'd with feveral for the people's fake:
He that, long-fasting, would no wonder show,
Made loaves and fishes, as they eat them, grow.
Of all his power, which boundless was above,
Here he us'd none, but to exprefs his love:
And fuch a love would make our joy exceed,
Not when our own, but other mouths, we feed.
Laws would be ufelefs, which rude nature awe;
Love, changing nature, would prevent the law :
Tigers and lions into dens we thruft;

But milder creatures with their freedom trust.

P 3

Devils

Devils are chain'd and tremble; but the Spouse
No force but love, nor bond but bounty, knows.
Men (whom we now fo fierce and dangerous fee)
Would guardian-angels to each other be:
Such wonders can this mighty love perform;
Vultures to doves, wolves into lambs transform!
Love what Ifaiah prophefy'd can do,

Exalt the valleys, lay the mountains low;

Humble the lofty, the rejected raise,

Smooth and make ftreight our rough and crooked ways.

Love, ftrong as death, and like it, levels all;
With that poffeft, the great in title fall:
Themfelves efteem but equal to the least,

Whom Heaven with that high character has bleft.
This love, the centre of our union, can
Alone beftow complete repofe on man:
Tame his wild appetite, make inward peace,
And foreign ftrife among the nations cease.
No martial trumpet fhould disturb our rest,
Nor Princes arm, though to fubdue the East;
Where for the Tomb fo many Heroes (taught
By thofe that guided their devotion) fought.
Thrice happy we, could we like ardour have
To gain his love, as they to win his grave!
Love as he lov'd! A love fo unconfin'd,
With arms extended, would embrace mankind.
Self-love would ceafe, or be dilated, when
We should behold as many felfs as men:
All of one family, in blood ally'd,

His precious blood, that for our ran fom dy'd!

CANTO

THO

CANTO VI.

HOUGH the creation (fo divinely taught!).
Prints fuch a lively image on our thought,
That the first spark of new-created light,
From Chaos ftrook, affects our present fight:
Yet the first Chriftians did efteem more blest
The day of rifing, than the day of reft;
That every week might new occasion give,
To make his triumph in their memory live..
Then let our Mufe compofe a facred charm,
To keep his blood among us ever warm:
And finging, as the Bleffed do above,
With our last breath dilate this flame of love..
But, on so vast a subject, who can find
Words that may reach th' ideas of his mind?
Our language fails: or, if it could fupply,
What mortal thought can raise itself so high?
Despairing here, we might abandon art,
And only hope to have it in our heart.
But though we find this facred task too hard,
Yet the defign, th' endeavour, brings reward.
The contemplation does fufpend our woe,
And make a truce with all the ills we know..
As Saul's afflicted fpirit, from the found
Of David's harp, a present folace found:
So on this theme while we our Mufe engage,,
No wounds are felt, of. fortune or of age...

On divine love to meditate is peace,

And makes all care of meaner things to cease.
Amaz'd at once, and comforted, to find
A boundless Power fo infinitely kind;
The foul contending to that light to fly
From her dark cell, we practife how to die:
Employing thus the Poet's winged art,
To reach this love, and grave it in our heart.
Joy fo complete, fo folid, and fevere,
Would leave no place for meaner pleasures there:
Pale they would look, as stars that must be gone,
When from the eaft the rifing fun comes on.

OF

O F THE

FEAR OF GO D.

IN TWO CANTO S.

CANTO I.

HE fear of God is freedom, joy, and peace;

THE

And makes all ills that vex us here to cease: Though the word Fear fome men may ill endure, 'Tis fuch a fear as only makes fecure.

Ask of no Angel to reveal thy fate;

Look in thy heart, the mirror of thy state.
He that invites will not th' invited mock;
Opening to all that do in earnest knock.
Our hopes are all well-grounded on this fear;
All our affurance rolls upon that sphere.
This fear, that drives all other fears away,
Shall be my fong; the morning of our day!
Where that fear is, there's nothing to be fear'd;
It brings from heaven an Angel for a guard:
Tranquillity and peace this fear does give;
Hell gapes for those that do without it live.
It is a beam, which he on man lets fall,
Of light; by which he made and governs all,