Angels, and more than angels, came from heaven;
And, oh! for this, descended lower still;
Guilt was hell's gloom; astonish'd at his guest,
For one short moment Lucifer ador'd:
Lorenzo! and wilt thou do less?—For this,
That hallow'd page, fools scoff at, was inspir'd,
Of all these truths thrice venerable code!
Deists! perform your quarantine; and then
Fall prostrate, ere you touch it, lest you die.
Nor less intensely bent infernal powers
To mar, than those of light, this end to gain.
O what a scene is here!-Lorenzo! wake!
Rise to the thought; exert, expand thy soul
To take the vast idea: it denies
All else the name of great. Two warring worlds!
Not Europe against Afric; warring worlds!
Of more than mortal! mounted on the wing!
On ardent wings of energy, and zeal,
High-hov'ring o'er this little brand of strife!
This sublunary ball-but strife, for what?
In their own cause conflicting? No; in thine,
In man's. His single int'rest blows the flame;
His the sole stake; his fate the trumpet sounds,
Which kindles war immortal. How it burns!
Tumultuous swarms of deities in arms!
Force, force opposing, till the waves run high,
And tempest nature's universal sphere.
Such opposites eternal, steadfast, stern,
Such foes implacable, are good, and ill; [them.
Yet man,
vain man, would mediate peace between
Think not this fiction, "There was war in hea-
[hung,
From heaven's high crystal mountain, where it
Th' Almighty's outstretcht arm took down his bow:
And shot his indignation at the deep:
Re-thunder'd hell, and darted all her fires.-
And seems the stake of little moment still?
And slumbers man, who singly caus'd the storm?
He sleeps. And art thou shockt at mysteries?
The greatest, thou. How dreadful to reflect,
What ardour, care, and counsel, mortals cause
In breasts divine! How little in their own!
Where'er I turn, how new proofs pour upon me!
How happily this wondrous view supports
My former argument! How strongly strikes
Immortal life's full demonstration, here!
Why this exertion? Why this strange regard
From heaven's Omnipotent indulg'd to man?-
Because, in man, the glorious dreadful power,
Extremely to be pain'd, or blest, for ever.
Duration gives importance; swells the price.
An angel, if a creature of a day,
What would he be? A trifle of no weight;
Or stand, or fall; no matter which; he's gone.
Because immortal, therefore is indulg'd
This strange regard of deities to dust.
Hence, heaven looks down on earth with all her
Hence, the soul's mighty moment in her sight:
Hence, every soul has partisans above,
And every thought a critic in the skies:
Hence, clay, vile clay ! has angels for its guard,
And every guard a passion for his charge:
Hence, from all age, the cabinet divine
Has held high counsel o'er the fate of man.
Nor have the clouds those gracious counsels hid,
Angels undrew the curtain of the throne,
And Providence came forth to meet mankind:
In various modes of emphasis and awe,
He spoke his will, and trembling nature heard ;*
He spoke it loud, in thunder and in storm.
Witness, thou Sinai ! whose cloud-cover'd height,
And shaken basis, own'd the present God:
Witness, ye billows! whose returning tide,
Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air,
Swept Egypt, and her menaces, to hell:
Witness, ye flames! th' Assyrian tyrant blew
To sevenfold rage, as impotent, as strong:
And thou, earth! witness, whose expanding jaws
Clos'd o'er' presumption's sacrilegious sons:
Has not each element, in turn, subscrib'd
The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise?
Has not flame, ocean, ether, earthquake, strove
To strike this truth, thro' adamantine man?
If not all adamant, Lorenzo! hear;
All is delusion; nature is wrapt up,
In tenfold night, from reason's keenest eye;
There's no consistence, meaning, plan, or end,
In all beneath the sun, in all above,
(As far as man can penetrate) or heaven
Is an immense, inestimable prize;
Or all is nothing, or that prize is all.
And shall each toy be still a match for heaven,
And full equivalent for groans below?
Who would not give a trifle to prevent
What he would give a thousand worlds to cure?
Lorenzo! thou hast seen (if thine to see)
All nature, and her God (by nature's course,
And nature's course control'd) declare for me:
The skies above proclaim, " immortal man!"
And, "man immortal!" all below resounds.
The world's a system of theology,
Read by the greatest strangers to the schools;
If honest, learn'd; and sages o'er a plough.
Is not, Lorenzo! then, impos'd on thee
This hard alternative; or, to renounce
Thy reason, or thy sense; or, to believe?
What then is unbelief? 'Tis an exploit;
A strenuous enterprise: to gain it, man
Must burst thro' every bar of common sense,
Of common shame, magnanimously wrong;
And what rewards the sturdy combatant?
His prize, repentance; infamy, his crown.
But wherefore, infamy ?-For want of faith,
Down the steep precipice of wrong he slides;
There's nothing to support him in the right.
Faith in the future wanting, is, at least
In embryo, every weakness, every guilt;
And strong temptation ripens it to birth.
If this life's gain invites him to the deed,
Why not his country sold, his father slain?
'Tis virtue to pursue our good supreme;
And his supreme, his only good is here.
Ambition, avʼrice, by the wise disdain'd,
Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools,
And think a turf, or tombstone, covers all:
These find employment, and provide for sense
A richer pasture, and a larger range;
And sense by right divine ascends the throne,
When virtue's prize and prospect are no more;
Virtue no more we think the will of heaven.
Would heaven quite beggar virtue, if belov'd?
"Has virtue charms ?"-I grant her heavenly
But if unportion'd, all will int'rest wed;
[fair;
Tho' that our admiration, this our choice.
The virtues grow on immortality;
That root destroy'd, they wither and expire.
A Deity believ'd will nought avail;
Rewards and punishments make God ador'd;
And hopes and fears give conscience all her power.
As in the dying parent dies the child,
Virtue, with immortality, expires.
Who tells me he denies his soul immortal,
Whate'er his boast, has told me, he's a knave.
His duty 'tis, to love himself alone;
Nor care tho' mankind perish, if he smiles.
Who thinks ere long the man shall wholly die,
Is dead already; nought but brute survives.
And are there such ?-Such candidates there are For more than death; for utter loss of being, Being, the basis of the Deity!
Ask you the cause?—The cause they will not tell :
Nor need they: Oh the sorceries of sense!
They work this transformation on the soul,
Dismount her, like the serpent at the fall,
Dismount her from her native wing (which soar'd
Erewhile ethereal heights), and throw her down,
To lick the dust, and crawl in such a thought.
Is it in words to paint you? O ye fall'n!
Fall'n from the wings of reason, and of hope!
Erect in stature, prone in appetite !
Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain!
Lovers of argument, averse to sense!
Boasters of liberty, fast bound in chains!
Lords of the wide creation, and the shame!
More senseless than th' irrationals you scorn!
More base than those you rule! than those you pity,
Far more undone! O ye most infamous
Of beings, from superior dignity!
Deepest in woe from means of boundless bliss!
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