Though sundry drops or leave or swell the stream,
The whole still runs, with equal pace, the same;
Still other waves supply the rising urns,
And the eternal flood no want of water mourns.
Why then must man obey the sad decree,
Which subjects neither sun, nor wind, nor sea?
A flower, that does with opening morn arise,
And, flourishing the day, at evening dies;
A winged eastern blast, just skimming o'er
The ocean's brow, and sinking on the shore;
A fire, whose flames through crackling stubble fly,
A meteor shooting from the summer sky;
A bowl adown the bending mountain roll'd;
A bubble breaking, and a fable told;

A noon-tide shadow, and a midnight dream;
Are emblems which, with semblance apt, proclaim,
Our earthly course: but, O my soul! so fast
Must life run off, and death for ever last?

This dark opinion, sure, is too confin'd;

Else whence this hope, and terrour of the mind? Does something still, and somewhere, yet remain, Reward or punishment, delight or pain?

Say shall our relics second birth receive?

:

Sleep we to wake, and only die to live?

When the sad wife has clos'd her husband's eyes,
And pierc'd the echoing vault with doleful cries,
Lies the pale corpse not yet entirely dead,
The spirit only from the body fled;
The grosser part of heat and motion void,
To be by fire, or worm, or time, destroy'd;
The Soul, immortal substance, to remain,
Conscious of joy, and capable of pain?

And, if her acts have been directed well,

While with her friendly clay she deign'd to dwell,
Shall she with safety reach her pristine seat?
Find her rest endless, and her bliss complete?
And, while the bury'd man we idly mourn,
Do angels joy to see his better half return?
But, if she has deform'd this earthly life
With murderous rapine, and seditious strife,
Amaz'd, repuls'd, and by those angels driven
From the ethereal seat, and blissful Heaven,
In everlasting darkness must she lie,
Still more unhappy, that she cannot die?

Amid two seas, on one small point of land,
Weary'd, uncertain, and amaz'd, we stand:
On either side our thoughts incessant turn;
Forward we dread, and looking back we mourn;
Losing the present in this dubious haste,
And lost ourselves betwixt the future and the past.
These cruel doubts contending in my breast,
My reason staggering, and my hopes oppress'd,
"Once more," I said, "once more I will inquire,
What is this little, agile, pervious fire,

This fluttering motion, which we call the Mind?
How does she act? and where is she confin'd?
Have we the power to guide her as we please?
Whence then those evils that obstruct our ease?
We happiness pursue; we fly from pain;
Yet the pursuit, and yet the flight, is vain :
And, while poor Nature labours to be blest,
By day with pleasure, and by night with rest,
Some stronger power eludes our sickly will,
Dashing our rising hope with certain ill;

And makes us, with reflective trouble, see
That all is destin'd, which we fancy free.

[mind,

"That Power superiour then, which rules our

Is his decree by human prayer inclin'd?
Will he for sacrifice our sorrows ease?
And can our tears reverse his firm decrees?
Then let Religion aid, where Reason fails;
Throw loads of incense in, to turn the scales;
And let the silent sanctuary show,

What from the babbling schools we may not know,
How man may shun or bear his destin'd part of woe.
"What shall amend, or what absolve, our fate?
Anxious we hover in a mediate state,
Betwixt infinity and nothing, bounds,

Or boundless terms, whose doubtful sense confounds.
Unequal thought! whilst all we apprehend
Is, that our hopes must rise, our sorrows end,
As our Creator deigns to be our friend."

I said; and instant bad the priests prepare
The ritual sacrifice and solemn prayer.
Select from vulgar herds, with garlands gay,
A hundred bulls ascend the sacred way.
The artful youth proceed to form the choir;
They breathe the flute, or strike the vocal wire.
The maids in comely order next advance;
They beat the timbrel, and instruct the dance.
Follows the chosen tribe from Levi sprung,
Chanting, by just return, the holy song.
Along the choir in solemn state they past:
The anxious king came last.
The sacred hymn perform'd, my promis'd vow
I paid; and, bowing at the altar low,

"Father of Heaven!" I said, "and Judge of

Earth!

Whose word call'd out this universe to birth;

By whose kind power and influencing care

The various creatures move, and live, and are; But ceasing once that care, withdrawn that power, They move, (alas !) and live, and are no more: Omniscient Master, omnipresent King,

To thee, to thee, my last distress I bring.

"Thou, that canst still the raging of the seas, Chain up the winds, and bid the tempests cease! Redeem my shipwreck'd soul from raging gusts Of cruel passion and deceitful lusts:

From storms of rage, and dangerous rocks of pride, Let thy strong hand this little vessel guide

(It was thy hand that made it) through the tide Impetuous of this life let thy command

:

Direct my course, and bring me safe to land!

"If, while this weary'd flesh draws fleeting

breath,

Not satisfy'd with life, afraid of death,

It haply be thy will, that I should know

Glimpse of delight, or pause from anxious woe!
From Now, from instant Now, great Sire! dispel
The clouds that press my soul; from Now reveal
A gracious beam of light; from Now inspire
My tongue to sing, my hand to touch the lyre;
My open thought to joyous prospects raise,
And for thy mercy let me sing thy praise.
Or, if thy will ordains I still shall wait
Some new hereafter, and a future state,

Permit me strength, my weight of woe to bear,
And raise my mind superior to my care.
Let me, howe'er unable to explain
The secret labyrinths of thy ways to man,
With humble zeal confess thy awful power;
Still weeping hope, and wondering still adore,
So in my conquest be thy might declar'd,
And for thy justice be thy name rever'd.”

My prayer scarce ended, a stupendous gloom Darkens the air; loud thunder shakes the dome. To the beginning miracle succeed

An awful silence and religious dread.

Sudden breaks forth a more than common day;
The sacred wood, which on the altar lay,
Untouch'd, unlighted, glows-
Ambrosial odour, such as never flows

From Arab's gum, or the Sabæan rose,
Does round the air evolving scents diffuse :
The holy ground is wet with heavenly dews:
Celestial music (such Jessides' lyre,

Such Miriam's timbrel, would in vain require)
Strikes to my thought through my admiring ear,
With ecstacy too fine, and pleasure hard to bear.
And lo! what sees my ravish'd eye? what feels
My wond'ring soul? An opening cloud reveals
An heavenly form, embody'd, and array'd
With robes of light. I heard. The angel said:
"Cease, man of woman born, to hope relief
From daily trouble and continued grief;
Thy hope of joy deliver to the wind,

Suppress thy passions, and prepare thy mind;