afking him, with such an affectionate concern as became a friend, “Where he should deposit his remains?" it was resented by Socrates, as implying a dishonourable fuppofition, that he could be fo mean, as to have a regard for any thing, even in himself, that was not immortal.

This fact well confidered would make our infidels withdraw their admiration from Socrates; or make them endeavour, by their imitation of this illustrious example, to share his glory: and, confequently, it would incline them to perufe the following pages with candour and impartiality: which is all I defire; and that, for their fakes: for I am perfuaded, that an unprejudiced infidel must, neceffarily, receive fome advantageous impreffions from them.

July 7, 1744.

VOL. II.

M

CON

CONTENTS OF THE SEVENTH NIGHT.

N the fixth Night arguments were drawn, from Na

drawn from Man: from his Difcontent, Ver. 29; from his Paffions and Powers, 64; from the gradual growth of Reason, 81; from his fear of Death, 86; from the nature of Hope, 104, and of Virtue, 139, &c. from Knowledge and Love, as being the moft effential properties of the foul, 253; from the Order of Creation, 290, &c. from the nature of Ambition, 337, &c. Avarice, 460; Pleafure, 477; a digreffion on the grandeur of the Paffions, 521. Immortality alone renders our prefent ftate intelligible, 545. An objection from the Stoics disbelief of immortality answered, 585. Endlefs queftions unrefolvable, but on fuppofition of our immortality, 606. The natural, moft melancholy, and pathetic complaint of a worthy man, under the perfuafion of no futurity, 653, &c. The grofs abfurdities and horrors of annihilation urged home on Lorenzo, 842, &c. The soul's vast importance, 990, &c. from whence it arifcs, 1078. The Difficulty of being an infidel, 1131, the Infamy, 1148, the Caufe, 1183, and the Character, 1203, of an infidel ftate. What true free-thinking is, 1217. The neceffary punishment of the falfe, 1271. Man's ruin is from himself, 1303. An infidel accufes himself of guilt, and hypocrify; and that of the worst fort, 1319. His obligation to Chrif tians, 1337. What danger he incurs by Virtue, 1345. Vice recommended to him, 1364. His high pretences to Virtue and Benevolence, exploded, 1373. The conclufion, on the nature of Faith, 1427. Reafon, 1439; and Hope, 1443; with an apology for this attempt, 1479.

EAVEN gives the needful, but neglected, call.
What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts,

НЕ

To wake the foul to fenfe of future fcenes?

Deaths ftand, like Mercurys, in every way,
And kindly point us to our journey's end.
Pope, who couldst make immortals! art thou dead?
I give thee joy: nor will I take my leave;

So foon to follow. Man but dives in death;
Dives from the fun, in fairer day to rife;
The grave, his fubterranean road to blifs.
Yes, infinite indulgence plann'd it so;
Through various parts our glorious story runs ;
Time gives the preface, endless age unrolls
The volume (ne'er unroll'd!) of human fate.

This, earth and fkies already have proclaim'd. Is
The world's a prophecy of worlds to come;
And who, what God foretels (who fpeaks in things,
Still louder than in words) fhall dare deny?

If nature's arguments appear too weak,
Turn a new leaf, and ftronger read in man.
If man fleeps on, untaught by what he fees,
Can he prove infidel to what he fecls ?
He, whofe blind thought futurity denies,
Unconscious bears, Bellerophon! like thee,
His own indictment; he condemns himself;

M 2

Night the Sixth.

20

2.5

Who

Who reads his bofom, reads immortal life;
Or, nature, there, impofing on her fons,
Has written fables; man was made a lye.
Why difcontent for ever harbour'd there?
Incurable confumption of our peace!
Refolve me, why the cottager and king,

He whom fea-fever'd realms obey, and he

Who fteals his whole dominion from the wafte,
Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw,
Difquieted alike, draw figh for figh,

In fate fo diftant, in complaint fo near?

Is it, that things terreftrial can't content?
Deep in rich pasture, will thy flocks complain?
Not fo; but to their master is deny'd

To share their sweet ferene. Man, ill at ease,
In this, not his own place, this foreign field,
Where nature fodders him with other food
Than was ordain'd his cravings to fuffice,
Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast,
Sighs on for fomething more, when most enjoy'd.
Is heaven then kinder to thy flocks than thee?
Not fo; thy pasture richer, but remote ;

In part, remote; for that remoter part

Man bleats from inftinct, though perhaps, debauch'd
By fenfe, his reason fleeps, nor dreams the cause.
The cause how obvious, when his reason wakes!
His grief is but his grandeur in disguise;
And difcontent is immortality.

Set

Shall fons of æther, fhall the blood of heaven,
up their hopes on earth, and ftable here

30

35

40

45

50

55

With brutal acquiefcence in the mire ?
Lorenzo! no! they fhall be nobly pain'd;
The glorious foreigners, distress'd, shall sigh
On thrones; and thou congratulate the figh:
Man's mifery declares him born for bliss;
His anxious heart afferts the truth I fing,
And gives the Sceptic in his head the lye.

60

65

Our heads, our hearts, our paffions, and our powers, Speak the fame language; call us to the skies; Unripen'd these in this inclement clime, Scarce rife above conjecture and mistake; And for this land of trifles thofe too strong Tumultuous rife, and tempeft human life: What prize on earth can pay us for the storm? Meet objects for our paffions heaven ordain'd, Objects that challenge all their fire, and leave No fault, but in defect: Bleft Heaven! avert A bounded ardour for unbounded blifs! O for a blifs unbounded! far beneath A foul immortal, is a mortal joy.

Nor are our powers to perish immature;

But, after feeble effort here, beneath
A brighter fun, and in a nobler foil,
Tranfplanted from this fublunary bed,
Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their bloom.
Reafon progreffive, inflinct is complete;
Swift inftinct leaps; flow reason feebly climbs.
Brutes foon their zenith reach; their little all

70

75

80

Flows in at once; in ages they no more
Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy.

M 3

85

Were