The branches bend laden with life and blifs
Ripe for the tafte, but 'tis a steep ascent :

Hold fast the golden chain let down from heaven, 'Twill help your feet and wings; I feel its force Draw upwards; fatten'd to the pearly gate

It guides the way unerring: Happy clue

Through this dark wild! 'Twas wisdom's nobleft work, All join'd by power divine, and every link is love.

To Mr. T. BRADBURY.

PARADISE.

1703.

YOUNG
OUNG as I am I quit the stage,
Nor will I know th' applauses of the age;
Farewell to growing fame. I leave below
A life not half worn out with cares,
Or agonies, or years;

I leave my country all in tears,

But heaven demands me upward, and I dare to go.

Amongst ye, friends, divide and share

If

The remnant of my days,

ye have patience, and can bear

A long fatigue of life, and drudge through all the race.

Hark, my fair guardian chides my stay,
And waves his golden rod :

66 Angel, I come; lead on the way :"
And now by swift degrees

I fail aloft through azure feas,
Now tread the milky road :

Farewell, ye planets, in your spheres ;
And as the ftars are loft, a brighter sky appears.
In hafte for paradise

I ftretch the pinions of a bolder thought;
Scarce had I will'd, but I was paft

Deferts of trackless light and all th' ethereal waste,
And to the facred borders brought;

There on the wing a guard of cherubs lies,
Each waves a keen flame as he flies,

And well defends the walls from fieges and furprize.

With pleasing reverence I behold

The pearly portals wide unfold:
Enter, my foul, and view th' amazing scenes ;,

Sit fast upon the flying Mufe,

And let thy roving wonder loose
O'er all th' empyreal plains.

Noon ftands eternal here: here may thy fight
Drink-in the rays of primogenial light;
Here breathe immortal air:

Joy must beat high in every vein,.
Pleasure through all thy bofom reign;
The laws forbid the stranger, pain,

And banish every care.

See how the bubbling springs of love
Beneath the throne arise;

The ftreams in cryftal channels move,
Around the golden ftreets they rove,
And bless the manfions of the upper fkies.
There a fair grove of knowledge grows,
Nor fin nor death infects the fruit;
Young life hangs fresh on all the boughs,
And fprings from every root;

Here may thy greedy fenfes feaft
While extafy and health attends on every taste.
With the fair prospect charm'd I stood;
Fearless I feed on the delicious fare,

And drink profuse falvation from the filver flood,
Nor can excess be there.

In facred order rang'd along

Saints new-releas'd by death

Join the bold feraph's warbling breath,

And aid th' immortal fong.
Each has a voice that tunes his ftrings
To mighty founds, and mighty things,
Things of everlafting weight,
Sounds, like the softer viol, sweet,
And, like the trumpet, strong.
Divine attention held my foul,

I was all ear!

Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll,

I long'd and wifh'd my Bradbury there;
"Could he but hear these notes, I faid,
"His tuneful foul would never bear

"The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread, "But burft the vital chords to reach the happy dead."

And now my tongue prepares to join
The harmony, and with a noble aim
Attempts th' unutterable name,
But faints, confounded by the notes divine:
Again my foul th' unequal honour fought,
Again her utmoft force the brought,
And bow'd beneath the burden of th' unwieldy thought.
Thrice I effay'd, and fainted thrice;
Th' immortal labour ftrain'd my feeble frame,
Broke the bright vifion, and diffolv'd the dream:
I funk at once and loft the kies: :

In vain I fought the fcenes of light
Rolling abroad my longing eyes,

For all around them ftood my curtains and the night.

Strict Religion very rare.

I'M borne aloft, and leave the crowd,
I fail upon a morning cloud

Skirted with dawning gold:

Mine eyes beneath the opening day
Command the globe with wide furvey,
Where ants in bufy millions play,
And tug and heave the mould.

Are thefe the things (my paffion cry'd) "That we call men? Are thefe ally'd

"To

"To the fair worlds of light?

86 They have ras'd out their Maker's name, "Graven on their minds with pointed flame "In ftrokes divinely bright.

"Wretches! they hate their native skies; "If an ethereal thought arife,

"Or fpark of virtue fhine,

"With cruel force they damp its'plumes, "Choke the young fire with fenfual fumes, "With business, luft, or wine.

"Lo! how they throng with panting breath "The broad defcending road "That leads unerring down to death,

"Nor mifs the dark abode."

Thus while I drop a tear or two
On the wild herd, a noble few
Dare to ftray upward, and purfue
Th' unbeaten way to God.
I meet Myrtillo mounting high,
I know his candid foul afar;
Here Dorylus and Thyrfis fly
Each like a rifing ftar.
Charin I faw and Fidea there,

I faw them help each other's flight,
And bless them as they go;

They foar beyond my labouring fight,
And leave their loads of mortal care,

But not their love, below.

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