Rous'd at the sound, th' exulting soul ascends,
And breathes her native air; an air that feeds
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires:
Quick kindles all that is divine within us;

Nor leaves one loit'ring thought beneath the stars.
Has not LORENZO's bosom caught the flame?
Immortal! Were but one immortal, how

Would others envy! How would thrones adore!
Because 'tis common, is the blessing lost?
How this ties up the bounteous hand of heav'n!
O vain, vain, vain, all else! Eternity!
A glorious, and a needful refuge, that,
From vile imprisonment, in abject views.
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone,
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness,
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill.
That only, and that amply, this performs;
Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above;
Their terror those, and these their lustre lose;
Eternity depending covers all;

Eternity depending all atchieves ;

Sets earth at distance; casts her into shades; Blends her distinctions; abrogates her pow'rs; The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles, Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, The man beneath; if I may call him man, Whom Immortality's full force inspires. Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought; Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard,

By minds quite conscious of their high descent,
Their present province, and their future prize;
Divinely darting upward ev'ry wish,

Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost!

Doubt you this truth? Why labours your belief?
If earth's whole orb by some due distanc'd eye
Were seen at once, her tow'ring Alps would sink,
And levell'd Atlas leave an even sphere.
Thus earth, and all that earthly minds admire,
Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round.

To that stupendous view, when souls awake,
So large of late, so mountainous to man,
Time's toys subside; and equal all below.
Enthusiastic, this? Then all are weak,

But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height
Some souls have soar'd; or martyrs ne'er had bled,
And all may do, what has by man been done.
Who, beaten by these sublunary storms,
Boundless, interminable joys can weigh,
Unraptur'd, unexalted, uninflam'd?

What slave unblest, who from to-morrow's dawn
Expects an empire? He forgets his chain,

And, thron'd in thought, his absent sceptre waves.
And what a sceptre waits us! what a throne!
Her own immense appointments to compute,
Or comprehend her high prerogatives,
In this her dark minority, how toils,
How vainly pants, the human soul divine!
Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy;
What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss?

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung,

Ne'er to be priz'd enough! enough revolv'd

Are there who wrap the world so close about them,
They see no farther than the clouds; and dance
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe.

Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career,

Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and song?
Are there, LORENZO? Is it possible?

Are there on earth (let me not call them men)
Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ;
Unconscious as the mountain of its ore;

Or rock, of its inestimable gem?

When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, those
Shall know their treasure; treasure, then, no more.
Are there (still more amazing!) who resist
The rising thought? Who smother, in its birth,
The glorious truth? Who struggle to be brutes?
Who thro' this bosom-barrier burst their way,
And, with reverst ambition, strive to sink?
Who labour downwards thro' th' opposing pow'rs
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them,
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock
Of endless night; night darker than the grave's?
Who fight the proofs of immortality?

With horrid zeal, and execrable arts,
Work all their engines, level their black fires,
To blot from man this attribute divine,
(Then vital blood far dearer to the wise)
Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves?
To contradict them, see all nature rise!
What object, what event, the moon beneath,
But argues, or endears, an after-scene?

To reason proves, or weds it to desire?
All things proclaim it needful; some advance
One precious step beyond, and prove it sure.
A thousand arguments swarm round my pen,
From heav'n, and earth, and man. Indulge a few,
By nature, as her common habit, worn;
So pressing Providence a truth to teach,

Which truth untaught, all other truths were vain.
THOU! whose all-providential Eye surveys,
Whose Hand directs, whose Spirit fills and warms
Creation, and holds empire far beyond!
Eternity's Inhabitant august!

Of two Eternities amazing Lord!

One past, ere man's, or angel's, had begun;
Aid! while I rescue from the foe's assault

Thy glorious Immortality in man :

A theme for ever, and for all, of weight.
Of moment infinite! but relish'd most
By those who love Thee most, most adore.
Nature, thy daughter, ever changing birth
Of Thee the Great Immutable, to man
Speaks wisdom; is his oracle supreme;
And he who most consults her, is most wise,
LORENZO, to this heav'nly Delphos haste;
And come back all-immortal; all-divine:
Look nature through, 'tis revolution all;

All change; no death. Day follows night; and night
The dying day; stars rise, and set, and rise;
Earth takes th' example. See, the Summer gay,
With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers,

Droop into pallid Autumn: Winter grey,

Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm,
Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away:
Then melts into the Spring: Soft Spring, with breath
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south,
Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades;
As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend.
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires.

With this minute distinction, emblems just,
Nature revolves, but man advances; both
Eternal, that a circle, this a line.
That gravitates, this soars.
Th' aspiring soul,
Ardent, and tremulous, like flame, ascends,
Zeal and humility her wings, to heav'n.
The world of matter, with its various forms,
All dies into new life. Life born from death
Rolls the vast mass, and shall for ever roll.
No single atom, once in being, lost,
With change of counsel charges the Most High.
What hence infers LORENZO? Can it be?
Matter immortal? And shall Spirit die?
Above the nobler, shall less nobler rise?
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives,
No resurrection know? Shali man alone,
Imperial Man! be sown in barren ground,
Less privileg'd than grain, on which he feeds?
Is Man, in whom alone is pow'r to prize
The bliss of being, or with previous pain
Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate,
Severely doom'd death's single unredeem'd ?