Place me, O heav'n, in some retreat
There let the ferious death-watch beat,
There let me felf in filence fhun,
To feel thy will, which fhould be done.
Then comes the Spirit to our hut,
When fast the senses' doors are shut ;
For fo divine and pure a guest

The emptieft rooms are furnish'd beft.
O Contemplation! air ferene

From damps of fenfe, and fogs of spleen!
Pure mount of thought! thrice holy ground,
Where grace, when waited for, is found.
Here 'tis the foul feels fudden youth,
And meets exulting, virgin Truth;
Here, like a breeze of gentleft kind,
Impulses ruftle thro' the mind;

Here shines that light with glowing face,

The fufe divine, that kindles

grace;

Which, if we trim our lamps, will last,
Till darkness be by dying past,

And then goes out at end of night,
Extinguifh'd by fuperior light.

Ah me! the heats and colds of life,

Pleasure's and pain's eternal strife,
Breed ftormy paffions, which confin'd,
Shake, like th' Eolian cave, the mind;
And raise despair, my lamp can laft,
Plac'd where they drive the furious blast.

Falfe

Falfe eloquence, big empty found,
Like showers, that rush upon the ground,
Little beneath the surface goes,

All ftreams along and muddy flows.
This finks, and fwells the buried grain,
And fructifies like fouthern rain.

His art, well hid in mild discourse,
Exerts perfuafion's winning force,
And nervates fo the good defign,
That king Agrippa's case is mine.
Well-natur'd, happy shade, forgive!
Like you I think, but cannot live.

Thy fcheme requires the world's contempt,

That, from dependence life exempt;

And conftitution fram'd fo ftrong,

This world's worst climate cannot wrong.
Not fuch my lot, not Fortune's brat,
I live by pulling off the hat;
Compell'd by ftation every hour
To bow to images of power;
And, in life's busy scenes immers'd,
See better things, and do the worst.
Eloquent Want, whofe reafons fway,
And make ten thousand truths give way,
While I your scheme with pleasure trace,
Draws near, and ftares me in the face.
Confider well your ftate, fhe cries,
Like others kneel, that you may rife;

Hold

Hold doctrines, by no fcruples vex'd,
To which preferment is annex'd,

Nor madly prove, where all depends,
Idolatry upon your friends.
See, how you like my rueful face,
Such you must wear, if out of place.

Crack'd is your brain to turn reclufe
Without one farthing out at use.

They, who have lands, and safe bank-stock,
With faith fo founded on a rock,

May give a rich invention ease,
And conftrue fcripture how they please.
The honour'd prophet, that of old
Us'd heav'n's high counfels to unfold,
Did, more than courier angels, greet
The crows, that brought him bread and meat.

PRE

PRE-EXISTENCE:

A POEM,

In Imitation of MILTON.

Has quoniam cali nondum dignamur honore,
Quas dedimus certè terras habitare finamus.

OW had th' archangel trumpet, rais'd fublime Above the walls of heav'n, begun to sound; All æther took the blaft, and hell beneath Shook with celestial noise; th' almighty host Hot with purfuit, and reeking with the blood Of guilty cherubs fmear'd in fulphurous duft, Paufe at the known command of founding gold. At first they close the wide Tartarian gates, Th' impenetrable folds on brazen hinge Roll creaking horrible; the din beneath O'ercomes the roar of flames, and deafens hell. Then through the folid gloom with nimble wing They cut their shining traces up to light;

3

Return'd

Return'd upon the edge of heavenly day,
Where thinneft beams play round the vaft obfcure,
And with eternal gleam drive back the night.
They find the troops lefs ftubborn, lefs involv'd
In crime and ruin, barr'd the realms of peace,
Yet uncondemn'd to baleful feats of woe,
Doubtful and fuppliant; all the plumes of light
Moult from their fhuddering wings, and fickly fear
Shades every face with horror; conscious guilt
Rolls in the livid eye-ball, and each breast
Shakes with the dread of future doom unknown.
'Tis here the wide circumference of heaven
Opens in two vaft gates, that inward turn
Voluminous, on jasper columns hung
By geometry divine: they ever glow
With living fculptures, that arife by turns
T'imbofs the fhining leaves, by turns they fet
To give fucceeding argument their place;
In holy hieroglyphicks on they move,
The gaze of journeying angels, as they pass
Oft looking back, and held in deep furprize.
Here ftood the troops diftinct; the cherub guard
Unbarr'd the fplendid gates, and in they roll
Harmonious; for a vocal spirit fits

Within each hinge, and, as they onward drive,
In juft divifions breaks the numerous jarr
With fymphony melodious, such as spheres
Involv'd in tenfold wreaths are said to found.

Out