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Condemn'd in bus'nefs, or in arts, to drudge,
Without a fecond, or without a judge.
Truths would you teach, or fave a finking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.

BRING, then, these bleffings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions; fee to what they mount;
How much, of other, each is fure to cost;
How each, for other, oft is wholly loft;
How inconfiftent greater goods with thefe;
How fometimes life is rifq'd, and always ease:
Think. And if ftill fuch things they envy call,
Say, wouldst thou be the man to whom they fall?
To figh for ribbands, if thou art fo filly,

Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.
Is yellow dirt the paffion of thy life?

Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon fhin'd;
The wifeft, brightest-meaneft of mankind.
Or, ravish'd with the whittling of a name,
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame.
If all, united, thy ambition call,
From ancient ftory-learn to fcorn them all."





ETIRE. The world shut out.-Thy thoughts call home. Imagination's airy wing reprefs.Lock up thy fenfes.-Let no paffion ftir.

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Wake all to reafon.-Let her reign alone.-
Then, in thy foul's deep filence, and the depth
Of nature's filence, midnight, thus inquire.

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WHAT am I? and from whence ?--I nothing know,
But that I am: and, fince I am, conclude
Something eternal. Had there e'er been nought,
Nought ftill had been. Eternal-there must be.-
But, what eternal? Why not human race,
And Adam's ancestors without an end?
That's hard to be conceiv'd; fince ev'ry link
Of that long-chain'd fucceffion is fo frail-
Can ev'ry part depend, and not the whole?
Yet, grant it true; new difficulties rife :
I'm ftill quite out at fea; nor fee the fhore.--
Whence earth, and thefe bright orbs ?-Eternal too?
Grant matter was eternal; till these orbs
Would want fome other father. Much defign
Is feen in all their motions, all their makes.
Design implies intelligence and art;

That can't be from themselves-or man: that art
Man fcarce can comprehend, could man beftow?
And nothing greater, yet allow'd, that man.
Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain,
Shot through vaft maffes of enormous weight?
Who bid brute matters reftive lump affume
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly?
Has matter innate motion? Then, each atom,
Afferting its indifputable right

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To dance, would form an univerfe of duft.
Has matter none? Then whence thefe glorious forms,
And boundless flights, from fhapelefs, and repos'd?
Has matter more than motion? Has it thought,
Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learn'd

In mathematics? Has it fram'd fuch laws,
Which, but to guefs, a Newton made immortal?—
If art, to form; and counfel, to conduct;
And, that, with greater far than human skill,
Refides not in each block-a GODHEAD reigns.—
And, if a GOD there is-that GOD, how great!

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HESE, as they change, Almighty Father! thefe, Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth, in the pleasing spring Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields; the foftening air is balm; Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes thy glory in the fummer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy fun Shoots full perfection through the fwelling year: And, oft, Thy voice in dreadful thunder fpeaks; And oft, at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty fhines in Autumn, unconfin'd, And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In winter, awful Thou! with clouds and storms Around Thee thrown; tempeft o'er tempeft roll'd; Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing Riding fublime, Thou bidft the world adore ; And humbleft nature with Thy northern blaft.


MYSTERIOUS round! what fkill, what force divine, Deep-felt, in these appear! A fimple train: Yet, fo delightful mix'd; with fuch kind art, Such beauty, and beneficence combin'd; Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into fhade; And all fo forming an harmonious whole; That, as they ftill fucceed, they ravish still. But, wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand, That, ever bufy, wheels the filent spheres; Works in the fecret deep; fhoots, fteaming, thence The fair profufion that o'erfpreads the Spring; Flings from the fun, direct, the flaming day; Feeds ev'ry creature; hurls the tempest forth ; And, as on earth this grateful thange revolves, With tranfport touches all the springs of life.

NATURE, attend! join every living foul,
Beneath the fpacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general fong !-To Him, ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose spirit in your freshness breathes :
Oh, talk of Him, in folitary glooms!

Where, o'er the rock, the fcarcely waving pine
Fills the brown fhade with a religious awe.
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' aftonifh'd world, lift high to heaven
Th' impetuous fong, and fay from whom you rage..
His praife, ye brooks attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye fofter floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A fecret world of wonders in thyfelf;
Sound his ftupendous praise; whose greater voice,


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Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft roll your incenfe, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds, to Him, whofe fun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whofe pencil paints,
Ye forefts bend, ye harvests wave, to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effufe your mildest beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels ftrike,
Amid the fpangled fky, the filver lyre.
Great fource of day! beft image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write, with every beam, his praife.
The thunder rolls. Be huih'd, the proftrate world,
While cloud to cloud returns the folemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye moffy rocks,
Retain the found; the broad refponfive lowe,
Ye valleys, raife; for the great fhepherd reigns;
And his unfuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless fong.
Burft from the groves! and, when the reftlefs day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! fweet Philomela ! charm'
The liftening fhades, and teach the night his praife.
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation fmiles;
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all;
Crown the great hymn. In fwarming cities vaft,
Affembled men, to the deep organ, join
The long-refounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At folemn paufes, thro' the fwelling bass;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardour, rise to heaven.

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