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CONTENTS

OF THE SEVENTH NIGHT.

In the Sixth Night arguments were drawn, from Nature, in proof of

immortality: Here, others are drawn from Man: From his Discon-
tent,—from his Passions and Powers-from the gradual growth of
Reason,—from his fear of Death from the nature of Hope, and of
Virtue--from Knowledge, and Love, as being the most essential pro-
perties of the soul—from the Order of Creationfrom the nature of
Ambition, Avarice, Pleasure. A digression on the grandeur of
the Passions, Immortality alone renders our present state intelligi-
ble. An objection from the Stoics disbelief of immortality an-
swered. Endless questions unresolvable, but on supposition of our
immortality. The natural, most melancholy, and pathetic complaint
of a worthy man, under the persuasion of no futurity. The gross
absurdities and horrors of annihilation urg'd home on LORENZO.
The soul's vast importance-from whence it arises - The Difficulty
of being an infidel--the InfamyThe Cause, and the Character, of
an infidel state. What true free-thinking is. The necessary pu-
nishment of the false. Man's ruin is from himself. An infidel ac-
cuses himself of guilt, and hypocrisy; and that of the worst sort.
His obligation to Christians--What danger he incurs by Virtue-
Vice recommended to him-His high pretences to Virtue, and Bene-
volence, exploded. The conclusion, on the nature of Faith,-- Reason
and Hope ; with an apology for this attempt.

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Page 107

London Published Sept 23-1797 by Vernor & Hood. & the other Proprietors.

HEAV'N gives the needful, but neglected call.
What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts,
To wake the soul to sense of future scenes ?
Deaths stand, like Mercury's, in ev'ry 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 soon to follow. Man but dives in death;
Dives from the sun, in fairer day to rise ;
The
grave,

his subterranean road to bliss.
Yes, infinite indulgence plann'd it so;
Thro' various parts our glorious story runs ;
Time gives the preface, endless uge unrolls
The volume (ne'er unrollid !) of human fate.

This, earth and skies * already have proclaim'd. .
The world's a prophecy of worlds to come ;
And who, what God foretells (who speaks in things,
Still louder than in words) shall dare deny?
If nature's arguments appear too weak,
Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man.

* Night the Sixth.

If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees,
Can he prove infidel to what he feels ?
He, whose blind thought futurity denies,
Unconscious bears, BELLEROPHON ! like thee,
His own indictment; he condemns himself;
Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ;
Or, nature, there, imposing on her sons,
Has written fables ; man was made a lye.

Why discontent for ever harbour’d there?
Incurable consumption of our peace !
Resolve me, why, the cottager, and king,
He, whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he
Who steals his whole dominion from the waste,
Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw,
Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh,
In fate so distant, in complaint so near?

Is it, that things terrestrial can't content? Deep in rich pasture will thy flocks complain? Not so; but to their master is deny'd To share their sweet serene. 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 suffice, Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast, Sighs on for something more, when most enjoy’d.

Is heav'n then kinder to thy flocks than thee? Not so ; thy pasture richer, but remote ; In part, remote ; for that remoter part Man bleats from instinct, tho' perhaps, debauch'd By sense, his reason sleeps nor dreams the cause

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