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But the good man, whose soul is pure,

Unspotted, regular, and free

From all the ugly stains of lust and villany,

Of mercy and of pardon sure,

Methinks I hear her, conscious of her fate, With fearful groans, and hideous cries, Fill the presaging skies;

Unable to support the weight

Looks through the darkness of the gloomy night: Or of the present, or approaching miseries.

And sees the dawning of a glorious day;

Sees crowds of angels ready to convey

His soul whene'er she takes her flight To the surprising mansions of immortal light. Then the celestial guards around him stand; Nor suffer the black demons of the air T'oppose his passage to the promis'd land, Or terrify his thoughts with wild despair; But all is calm within, and all without is fair. His prayers, his charity, his virtues, press To plead for mercy when he wants it most; Not one of all the happy number 's lost:

And those bright advocates ne'er want success, But when the soul 's releas'd from dull mortality, She passes up in triumph through the sky; Where she 's united to a glorious throng Of angels; who, with a celestial song, Congratulate her conquest as she flies along.

If therefore all must quit the stage,
When, or how soon, we cannot know;
But, late or early, we are sure to go;

In the fresh bloom of youth, or wither'd age;
We cannot take too sedulous a care,
In this important, grand affair:

For as we die, we must remain;
Hereafter all our hopes are vain,

To make our peace with Heaven, or to return again.
The Heathen, who no better understood

Than what the light of Nature taught, declar'd, No future misery could be prepar'd

For the sincere, the merciful, the good;

But, if there was a state of rest,
They should with the same happiness be blest,
As the immortal gods, if gods there were, possest.
We have the promise of th' eternal Truth,
Those who live well, and pious paths pursue,
To man, and to their Maker, true,
Let them expire in age, or youth,
Can never miss

Their way to everlasting bliss:
But from a world of misery and care
To mansions of eternal ease repair;

Where joy in full perfection flows,
And in an endless circle moves,
Through the vast round of beatific love,
Which no cessation knows.

ON THE

GENERAL CONFLAGRATION,

AND ENSUING JUDGMENT.

. A PINDARIC ESSAY.

Esse quoque in fatis, reminiscitur, affore tempus Quo mare, quo tellus, correptaque regia cœli Ardeat, et mundi moles operosa laborat.

Ovid. Met.

Now the black days of universal doom,
Which wondrous prophecies foretold, are come:
What strong convulsions, what stupendous woe,
Must sinking Nature undergo;

Amidst the dreadful wreck, and final overthrow!

Methinks I hear her summon all

Her guilty offspring raving with despair, And trembling, cry aloud, "Prepare, Ye sublunary powers, t' attend my funeral!"

See, see the tragical portents, Those dismal harbingers of dire events! Loud thunders roar, and darting lightnings fly Through the dark concave of the troubled sky; The fiery ravage is begun, the end is nigh. See how the glaring meteors blaze!

Like baleful torches, O they come,

To light dissolving Nature to her tomb! And, scattering round their pestilential rays, Strike the affrighted nations with a wild amaze. Vast sheets of flame, and globes of fire, By an impetuous wind are driven Through all the regions of th' inferior Heaven; Till, bid in sulphurous smoke, they seemingly expire.

Sad and amazing 'tis to see

What mad confusion rages over all

This scorching ball!

No country is exempt, no nation free, But each partakes the epidemic misery. What dismal havoc of mankind is made

By wars, and pestilence, and dearth,

Through the whole mournful Earth? Forsook by Providence, and all propitious aid! Which with a murdering fury they invade, Whilst fiends let loose, their utmost rage employ To ruin all things here below; Their malice and revenge no limits know, But, in the universal tumult, all destroy.

Distracted mortals from their cities fly,

For safety to their champaign ground.
But there no safety can be found;
The vengeance of an angry Deity,

With unrelenting fury, does enclose them round:
And whilst for mercy some aloud implore
The God they ridicul'd before;

And others, raving with their woe,

(For hunger, thirst, despair, they undergo)

Blaspheme and curse the Power they should adore:
The Earth, parch'd up with drought, her jaws extends,
And opening wide a dreadful tomb,
The howling multitude at once descends
Together all into her burning womb.

The trembling Alps abscond their aged heads
In mighty pillars of infernal smoke,

Which from their bellowing caverns broke,
And suffocates whole nations where it spreads.
Sometimes the fire within divides

The massy rivers of those secret chains, Which hold together their prodigious sides, And hurls the shatter'd rocks o'er all the plains: While towns and cities, every thing below, Is overwhelm'd with the same burst of woe.

No showers descend from the malignant sky, To cool the burning of the thirsty field; The trees no leaves, no grass the meadows, yield, But all is barren, all is dry.

The little rivulets no more

To larger streams their tribute pay,

Nor to the ebbing ocean they;
Which, with a strange unusual roar,

Forsakes those ancient bounds it would have pass'd before:

And to the monstrous deep in vain retire:
For even the deep itself is not secure,

But belching subterraneous fires,
Increases still the scalding calenture,

Which neither earth, nor air, nor water, can endure.

The Sun, by sympathy, concern'd
At those convulsions, pangs, and agonies,
Which on the whole creation seize,
Is to substantial darkness turn'd.

The neighbouring Moon, as if a purple flood
O'erflow'd her tottering orb, appears
Like a huge mass of black corrupted blood;
For she herself a dissolution fears.
The larger planets, which once shone so bright,
With the reflected rays of borrow'd light,
Shook from their centre, without motion lie,
Unwieldy globes of solid night,
And ruinous lumber of the sky.

Amidst this dreadful hurricane of woes,
(For fire, confusion, horrour, and despair,
Fill every region of the tortur'd Earth and air)
The great archangel his loud trumpet blows;
At whose amazing sound fresh agonies

Upon expiring Nature scize:

For now she 'll in few minutes know The ultimate event and fate of all below.' "Awake, ye dead, awake," he cries; (For all must come)

"All that had human breath, arise, To hear your last, unalterable doom."

At this the ghastly tyrant, who had sway'd
So many thousand ages uncontroll'd,

No longer could his sceptre hold;

But gave up all, and was himself a captive made.
The scatter'd particles of human clay,
Which in the silent grave's dark chambers lay,
Resume their pristine forms again,

And now from mortal, grow immortal men.
Stupendous energy of sacred Power,

Which can collect whatever cast

The smallest atoms, and that shape restore Which they had worn so many years before, That through strange accidents and numerous changes past!

See how the joyful angels fly
From every quarter of the sky,
To gather and to convoy all
The pious sons of human race,
To one capacious place,

Above the confines of this flaming ball.

See with what tenderness and love they bear
Those righteous souls through the tumultuous air;
Whilst the ungodly stand below,

Raging with shame, confusion, and despair,
Amidst the burning overthrow,
Expecting fiercer torment, and acuter woe.
Round them infernal spirits howling fly;

"O horrour, curses, tortures, chains!" they cry, And roar aloud with execrable blasphemy.

Hark how the daring sons of Infamy,
Who once dissolv'd in Pleasure's lap,
And laugh'd at this tremendous day,
To rocks and mountains now to hide them cry;
But rocks and mountains all in ashes lie.

Their shame 's so mighty, and so strong their fear,
That, rather than appear

Before a God incens'd, they would be hurl'd
Amongst the burning ruins of the world,
And lie conceal'd, if possible, for ever there.
Time was they would not own a Deity,
Nor after death a future state;
But now, by sad experience, find, too late,
There is, and terrible to that degree,
That rather than behold his face, they'd cease to be.
And sure't is better, if Heaven would give consent,
To have no being; but they must remain,
For ever, and for ever be in pain.

O inexpressible, stupendous punishment,
Which cannot be endur'd, yet must be underwent!

But now the eastern skies expanding wide,
The glorious Judge omnipotent descends,
And to the sublunary world his passage bends;
Where, cloth'd with human nature, he did once re-
Round him the bright ethereal armies fly, [side,
And loud triumphant hallelujahs sing,
With songs of praise, and hymns of victory,
To their celestial king;

"All glory, power, dominion, majesty,
Now, and for everlasting ages, be

To the Essential One, and Co-eternal Three.
Perish that world, as 'tis decreed,

Which saw the God incarnate bleed!
Perish by thy almighty vengeance those
Who durst thy person, or thy laws expose;

The cursed refuge of mankind, and Hell's proud seed.
Now to the unbelieving nations show,
Thou art a God from all eternity;
Not titular, or but by office so;

And let them the mysterious union see
Of human nature with the Deity."

With mighty transports, yet with awful fears,
The good behold this glorious sight!
Their God in all his majesty appears,
Ineffable, amazing bright,

And seated on a throne of everlasting light.
Round the tribunal, next to the Most High,
In sacred discipline and order, stand
The peers and princes of the sky,

As they excel in glory or command,
Upon the right hand that illustrious crowd,
In the white bosom of a shining cloud,
Whose souls abhorring all ignoble crimes,
Did, with a steady course, pursue
His holy precepts in the worst of times, [could do.
Maugre what Earth or Hell, what man or devils
And now that God they did to death adore,
For whom such torments and such pains they
bore,

Returns to place them on those thrones above,
Where, undisturb'd, uncloy'd, they will posses
Divine, substantial happiness,

Unbounded as his power, and lasting as his love.

"Go, bring," the Judge impartial, frowning, cries, "Those rebel sons, who did my laws despise ; Whom neither threats nor promises could move, Not all my sufferings, nor all my love, To save themselves from everlasting miseries,”

At this ten millions of archangels flew
Swifter than lightning, or the swiftest thought,
And less than in an instant brought
The wretched, curs'd, infernal, crew;
Who with distorted aspects come,
To hear their sad, intolerable doom.
"Alas!" they cry, 66

one beam of mercy show,

Thou all-forgiving Deity!

To pardon crimes, is natural to thee:
Crush us to nothing, or suspend our woe,
But if it cannot, cannot be,

And we must go into a gulf of fire,

(For who can with Omnipotence contend?) Grant, for thou art a God, it may at last expire,

And all our tortures have an end. Eternal burnings, O, we cannot bear! Though now our bodies too immortal are, Let them be pungent to the last degree: And let our pains innumerable be; But let them not extend to all eternity!"

Lo, now there does no place remain
For penitence and tears, but all
Must by their actions stand or fall:
To hope for pity, is in vain;

The die is cast, and not to be recall'd again.
Two mighty books are by two angels brought:
In this, impartially recorded, stands

The law of Nature, and divine commands:
In that, each action, word, and thought,
Whate'er was said in secret, or in secret wrought.
Then first the virtuous and the good,
Who all the fury of temptation stood,

And bravely pass'd through ignominy, chains, and

blood,

Attended by their guardian angels, come To the tremendous bar of final doom. In vain the grand accuser, railing, brings A long indictment of enormous things, Whose guilt wip'd off by penitential tears, And their Redeemer's blood and agonies, No more to their astonishment appears, But in the secret womb of dark Oblivion lies.

"Come, now, my friends," he cries, "ye sons of Grace,

Partakers once of all my wrongs and shame,
Despis'd and hated for my name;
Come to your Saviour's and your God's embrace;
Ascend, and those bright diadems possess,
For you by my eternal Father made,
Ere the foundation of the world was laid;
And that surprising happiness,

Immense as my own Godhead, and will ne'er be less.
For when I languishing in prison lay,
Naked, and starv'd almost for want of bread,
You did your kindly visits pay,
Both cloth'd my body, and my hunger fed.
Weary'd with sickness, or oppress'd with grief,
Your hand was always ready to supply:
Whene'er I wanted, you were always by,
To share my sorrows, or to give relief.
In all distress so tender was your love,
I could no anxious trouble bear;
No black misfortune, or vexatious care,
But you were still impatient to remove,

And mourn'd your charitable hand should unsuccessful prove:

All this you did, though not to me In person, yet to mine in misery:

And shall for ever live

In all the glories that a God can give, Or a created being 's able to receive."

At this the architects divine on high
Innumerable thrones of glory raise,
On which they, in appointed order, place
The human coheirs of eternity,

And with united hymns the God incarnate praise: "O holy, holy, holy, Lord,

Eternal God, Almighty One,

Be Thou for ever, and be Thou alone,
By all thy creatures, constantly ador'd!
Ineffable, co-equal Three,

Who from non-entity gave birth
To angels and to men, to Heaven and to Earth,
Yet always wast Thyself, and wilt for ever be.
But for thy mercy, we had ne'er possest
These thrones, and this immense felicity;
Could ne'er have been so infinitely blest!
Therefore all glory, power, dominion, majesty,
To Thee, O Lamb of God, to Thee,
For ever, longer than for ever, be!"

Then the incarnate Godhead turns his face
To those upon the left, and cries,
(Almighty vengeance flashing in his eyes)
"Ye impious, unbelieving race,
To those eternal torments go,

Prepar'd for those rebellious sons of light,
In burning darkness and in flaming night,
Which shall no limit or cessation know,
But always are extreme, and always will be so.”
The final sentence past, a dreadful cloud
Enclosing all the miserable crowd,

A mighty hurricane of thunder rose, And hurl'd them all into a lake of fire, Which never, never, never can expire; The vast abyss of endless woes: Whilst with their God the righteous mount on

high,

In glorious triumph passing through the sky, To joys immense, and everlasting ecstasy.

REASON:

A POEM.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1700. UNHAPPY man! who, through successive years, From early youth to life's last childhood errs: No sooner born but proves a foe to truth; For infant Reason is o'erpower'd in youth. The cheats of sense will half our learning share; And pre-conceptions all our knowledge are. Reason, 'tis true, should over sense preside: Correct our notions, and our judgments guide; But false opinions, rooted in the mind, Hoodwink the soul, and keep our reason blind. Reason's a taper, which but faintly burns; A languid flame, that glows, and dies by turns: We see 't a little while, and but a little way; We travel by its light, as men by day: But quickly dying, it forsakes us soon, Like morning-stars, that never stay till noon. The soul can scarce above the body rise; And all we see is with corporeal eyes. Life now does scarce oue glimpse of light display; We mourn in darkness, and despair of day:

That natural night, once drest with orient beams,
Is now diminish'd, and a twilight seems;
A miscellaneous composition, made

Of night and day, of sunshine and of shade.
Through an uncertain medium now we look,
And find that falsehood, which for truth we took:
So rays projected from the eastern skies,
Show the false day before the Sun can rise.

That little knowledge now which man obtains,
From outward objects, and from sense he gains:
He, like a wretched slave, must plod and sweat;
By day must toil, by night that toil repeat;
And yet, at last, what little fruit he gains!
A beggar's harvest, glean'd with mighty pains!
The passions, still predominant, will rule
Ungovern'd, rude, not bred in Reason's school;
Our understanding they with darkness fill,
Cause strong corruptions, and pervert the will.
On these the soul, as on some flowing tide,
Must sit, and on the raging billows ride,
Hurried away; for how can be withstood
Th' impetuous torrent of the boiling blood?
Begone, false hopes, for all our learning 's vain;
Can we be free where these the rule maintain?
These are the tools of knowledge which we use;
The spirits heated, will strange things produce.
Tell me, whoe'er the passions could control,
Or from the body disengage the soul:
Till this is done, our best pursuits are vain,
To conquer truth, and unmix'd knowledge gain:
Through all the bulky volumes of the dead, [bred,
And through those books that modern times have
With pain we travel, as through moorish ground,
Where scarce one useful plant is ever found;
O'er-run with errours, which so thick appear,
Our search proves vain, no spark of truth is there.
What's all the noisy jargon of the schools,
But idle nonsense of laborious fools,
Who fetter Reason with perplexing rules?
What in Aquina's bulky works are found,
Does not enlighten Reason, but confound:
Who travels Scotus' swelling tomes, shall find
A cloud of darkness rising on the mind;
In controverted points can Reason sway,
When passion, or conceit, still hurries us away!
Thus his new notions Sherlock would instil,
And clear the greatest mysteries at will;
But, by unlucky wit, perplex'd them more,
And made them darker than they were before.
South soon oppos'd him, out of Christian zeal;
Showing how well he could dispute and rail.
How shall we e'er discover which is right,
When both so eagerly maintain the fight?
Each does the other's arguments deride;
Each has the church and scripture on his side.
The sharp, ill-natur'd combat 's but a jest;
Both may be wrong; one, perhaps, errs the least.
How shall we know which articles are true,
The old ones of the church, or Burnet's new?
In paths uncertain and unsafe he treads,
Who blindly follows other fertile heads:
What sure, what certain mark have we to know,
The right or wrong, 'twixt Burgess, Wake, and Howe?
Should unturn'd Nature crave the medic art,
What health can that contentious tribe impart?
Every physician writes a different bill,
And gives no other reason but his will.
No longer boast your art, ye impious race;
Let wars 'twixt alkalies and acids cease;
And proud G-ll with Colbatch be at peace.

Gibbons and Radcliffe do but rarely guess;
To-day they've good, to-morrow, no success.
Ev'n Garth and Maurus' sometimes shall prevail,
When Gibson, learned Hannes, and Tyson, fail.
And, more than once, we've seen, that blundering
Sloane,

Missing the gout, by chance has hit the stone;
The patient does the lucky errour find:
A cure he works, though not the cure design'd.
Custom, the world's great idol, we adore;
And knowing this, we seek to know no more.
What education did at first receive,
Our ripen'd age confirms us to believe.
The careful nurse, and priest, are all we need,
To learn opinions, and our country's creed:
The parent's precepts early are instill'd,
And spoil the man, while they instruct the child.
To what hard fate is human kind betray'd,
When thus implicit faith, a virtue made;
When education more than truth prevails,
And nought is current but what custom seals?
Thus, from the time we first began to know,
We live and learn, but not the wiser grow.

We seldom use our liberty aright,
Nor judge of things by universal light :
Our prepossessions and affections bind
The soul in chains, and lord it o'er the mind;
And if self-interest be but in the case,

Our unexamin'd principles may pass !

Good Heavens! that man should thus himself de

ceive,

To learn on credit, and on trust believe!
Better the mind no notions had retain'd,
But still a fair, unwritten blank remain'd:
For now, who truth from falsehood would discern,
Must first disrobe the mind, and all unlearn.
Errours, contracted in unmindful youth,
When once remov'd, will smooth the way to trath:
To dispossess the child, the mortal lives;
But Death approaches ere the man arrives.

Those who would learning's glorious kingdom find,
The dear-bought purchase of the trading mind,
From many dangers must themselves acquit,
And more than Scylla and Charybdis meet.
Oh! what an ocean must be voyag'd o'er,
To gain a prospect of the shining shore!
Resisting rocks oppose th' inquiring soul,
And adverse waves retard it as they roll.

Does not that foolish deference we pay To men that liv'd long since, our passage stay? What odd, preposterous paths at first we tread, And learn to walk by stumbling on the dead! First we a blessing from the grave implore, Worship old urns, and monuments adore! The reverend sage, with vast esteem, we prize: He liv'd long since, and must be wondrous wise! Thus are we debtors to the famous dead, For all those errours which their fancies bred: Errours indeed! for real knowledge stay'd With those first times, not further was convey'd: While light opinions are much lower brought, For on the waves of ignorance they float: But solid truth scarce ever gains the shore, So soon it sinks, and ne'er emerges more.

Suppose those many dreadful dangers past; Will knowledge dawn, and bless the mind, at last! Ah, no, 't is now environ'd from our eyes, Hides all its charms, and undiscover'd lies!

I Sir Richard Blackmore.

Truth, like a single point, escapes the sight,
And claims attention to perceive it right!
But what resembles truth is soon descry'd,
Spreads like a surface, and expanded wide!
The first man rarely, very rarely finds
The tedious search of long inquiring minds:
But yet what 's worse, we know not what we err;
What mark does truth, what bright distinction bear?
How do we know that what we know is true?
How shall we falsehood fly, and truth pursue?
Let none then here his certain knowledge boast;
'T is all but probability at most:
This is the easy purchase of the mind;

The vulgar's treasure, which we soon may find!
But truth lies hid, and ere we can explore
The glittering gem, our fleeting life is o'er.

DIES NOVISSIMA:

OR, THE

LAST EPIPHANY.

A PINDARIC ODE, on christ's second APPEARANCE, TO JUDGE THE WORLD.

ADIEU, ye toyish reeds, that once could please
My softer lips, and lull my cares to ease:
Begone; I'll waste no more vain hours with you:
And, smiling Sylvia too, adieu.

A brighter power invokes my Muse,
And loftier thoughts and raptures does infuse.
See, beckoning from yon cloud, he stands,
And promises assistance with his hands:
I feel the heavy-rolling God,
Incumbent, revel in his frail abode.

How my breast heaves, and pulses beat!
I sink, I sink, beneath the furious heat:
The weighty bliss o'erwhelms my breast,
And overflowing joys profusely waste.

Some nobler bard, O sacred Power, inspire, Or soul more large, th' elapses to receive: And, brighter yet, to catch the fire,

And each gay following charm from death to save!
-In vain the suit-the God inflames my breast;
I rave, with ecstasies opprest:

I rise, the mountains lessen, and retire;
And now I mix, unsing'd, with elemental fire!
The leading deity I have in view;

Nor mortal knows, as yet, what wonders will ensue.

We pass'd through regions of unsullied light;
I gaz'd, and sicken'd at the blissful sight;

A shuddering paleness se z'd my look:

At last the pest flew off, and thus I spoke: "Say, Sacred Guide, shall this bright clime Survive the fatal test of time,

Or perish, with our mortal globe below,
When yon Sun no longer shines?"
Straight I finish'd-veiling low:
The visionary power rejoins:

""T is not for you to ask, nor mine to say,
The niceties of that tremendous day.

Know, when o'er-jaded Time his round has run, And finish'd are the radiant journeys of the Sun, The great decisive morn shall rise,

And Heaven's bright Judge appear in opening skies! Eternal grace and justice he 'll bestow

On all the trembling world below."

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Adulterate Christs already rise,

And dare t' assuage the angry skies;
Erratic throngs their Saviour's blood deny,
And from the cross, alas! he does neglected sigh;
The Anti-Christian Power has rais'd his Hydra head,
And ruin, only less than Jesus' health, does spread.
So long the gore through poison'd veins has flow'd,
That scarcely ranker is a fury's blood;
Yet specious artifice, and fair disguise,
The monster's shape, and curst design, belies:
A fiend's black venom, in an angel's mien,
He quaffs, and scatters, the contagious spleen:
Straight, when he finishes his lawless reign,

Nature shall paint the shining scene,
Quick as the lightning which inspires the train.

Forward Confusion shall provoke the fray,
And Nature from her ancient order stray;

Black tempests, gathering from the seas around,
In horrid ranges shall advance;

And, as they march, in thickest sables drown'd,
The rival thunder from the clouds shall sound,
And lightnings join the fearful dance:
The blustering armies o'er the skies shall spread,
And universal terrour shed;

Loud issuing peals, and rising sheets of smoke,

Th' encumber'd region of the air shall choke; The noisy main shall lash the suffering shore, And from the rocks the breaking billows roar! Black thunder bursts, blue lightning burns, And melting worlds to heaps of ashes turns! The forests shall beneath the tempest bend, And rugged winds the nodding cedars rend.

Reverse all Nature's web shall run,

And spotless Misrule all around,
Order, its flying foe, confound;

Whilst backward all the threads shall haste to be

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The hostile Harmony shall chase;

And as the nymph resigns her place,

And, panting, to the neighbouring refuge flies,
The formless ruffian slaughters with his eyes,
And, following, storms the perching dame's retreat,
Adding the terrour of his threat;

The globe shall faintly tremble round,
And backward jolt, distorted with the wound.

Swath'd in substantial shrowds of night,
The sickening Sun shall from the world retire,
Stripp'd of his dazzling robes of fire; [light!
Which, dangling, once shed round a lavish food of

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