Then (as a king deposed disdains to live) He falls on his own scythe; nor falls alone: His greatest foe falls with him; Time, and he Who murder'd all Time's offspring, Death, expire. 310 Time was! Eternity now reigns alone: Awful eternity! offended queen!

And her resentment to mankind, how just!

With kind intent, soliciting access, How often has she knock'd at human hearts!

Rich to repay their hospitality; How often call'd! and with the voice of G.o.d!

Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat!

A dream! while foulest foes found welcome there!

A dream, a cheat, now, all things, but her smile. 320 For, lo! her twice ten thousand gates thrown wide, As thrice from Indus to the frozen pole, With banners streaming as the comet's blaze, And clarions, louder than the deep in storms, Sonorous as immortal breath can blow, 325 Pour forth their myriads, potentates, and powers, Of light, of darkness; in a middle field, Wide, as creation! populous, as wide!

A neutral region! there to mark th' event Of that great drama, whose preceding scenes Detain'd them close spectators, through a length Of ages, ripening to this grand result; 332 Ages, as yet unnumber'd, but by G.o.d; Who now, p.r.o.nouncing sentence, vindicates The rights of Virtue, and his own renown.

Eternity, the various sentence past, a.s.signs the sever'd throng distinct abodes, Sulphureous, or ambrosial. What ensues?

The deed predominant! the deed of deeds!

Which makes a h.e.l.l of h.e.l.l, a heaven of heaven. 340 The G.o.ddess, with determined aspect, turns Her adamantine key's enormous size Through destiny's inextricable wards, Deep driving every bolt, on both their fates.

Then, from the crystal battlements of heaven, Down, down, she hurls it through the dark profound, Ten thousand thousand fathom; there to rust, And ne'er unlock her resolution more.

The deep resounds; and h.e.l.l, through all her glooms, Returns, in groans, the melancholy roar. 350 O how unlike the chorus of the skies!

O how unlike those shouts of joy, that shake The whole ethereal! how the concave rings!

Nor strange! when deities their voice exalt; And louder far, than when creation rose, To see creation's G.o.dlike aim, and end, So well accomplish'd! so divinely closed!

To see the mighty dramatist's last act, (As meet), in glory rising o'er the rest. 359 No fancied G.o.d, a G.o.d indeed, descends, To solve all knots; to strike the moral home; To throw full day on darkest scenes of time; To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole.

Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise, The charm'd spectators thunder their applause; And the vast void beyond, applause resounds.

What then am I?-- Amidst applauding worlds, And worlds celestial, is there found on earth, A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string, 370 Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains?

Censure on thee, Lorenzo! I suspend, And turn it on myself; how greatly due!

All, all is right; by G.o.d ordain'd or done; And who, but G.o.d, resumed the friends He gave?

And have I been complaining, then, so long?

Complaining of his favours; pain, and death?

Who, without Pain's advice, would e'er be good?

Who, without Death, but would be good in vain?

Pain is to save from pain; all punishment, 380 To make for peace; and death, to save from Death; And second death, to guard immortal life; To rouse the careless, the presumptuous awe, And turn the tide of souls another way; By the same tenderness divine ordain'd, That planted Eden, and high bloom'd for man, A fairer Eden, endless, in the skies.

Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene; Resumes them, to prepare us for the next.

All evils natural are moral goods; 390 All discipline, indulgence, on the whole.

None are unhappy: all have cause to smile, But such as to themselves that cause deny. 393 Our faults are at the bottom of our pains; Error, in act, or judgment, is the source Of endless sighs: we sin, or we mistake; And Nature tax, when false opinion stings.

Let impious grief be banish'd, joy indulged; But chiefly then, when Grief puts in her claim.

Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays, 400 Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe.

Joy, amidst ills, corroborates, exalts; 'Tis joy and conquest; joy, and virtue too.

A n.o.ble fort.i.tude in ills, delights Heaven, earth, ourselves; 'tis duty, glory, peace.

Affliction is the good man's shining scene; Prosperity conceals his brightest ray; As night to stars, woe l.u.s.tre gives to man.

Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm, And virtue in calamities, admire. 410 The crown of manhood is a winter-joy; An evergreen, that stands the northern blast, And blossoms in the rigour of our fate.

'Tis a prime part of happiness, to know How much unhappiness must prove our lot; A part which few possess! I'll pay life's tax, Without one rebel murmur, from this hour, Nor think it misery to be a man; Who thinks it is, shall never be a G.o.d.

Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live. 420 What spoke proud Pa.s.sion?--"Wish my being lost?"[53]

Presumptuous! blasphemous! absurd! and false!

The triumph of my soul is,--that I am; And therefore that I may be--what? Lorenzo!

Look inward, and look deep; and deeper still; Unfathomably deep our treasure runs 426 In golden veins, through all eternity!

Ages, and ages, and succeeding still New ages, where the phantom of an hour, Which courts each night, dull slumber, for repair, Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, And fly through infinite, and all unlock; And (if deserved) by Heaven's redundant love, 433 Made half adorable itself, adore; And find, in adoration, endless joy!

Where thou, not master of a moment here, Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale, May'st boast a whole eternity, enrich'd With all a kind Omnipotence can pour.

Since Adam fell, no mortal, uninspired, 440 Has ever yet conceived, or ever shall, How kind is G.o.d, how great (if good) is Man.

No man too largely from Heaven's love can hope, If what is hoped he labours to secure.

Ills?--there are none: All-gracious! none from thee; From man full many! numerous is the race Of blackest ills, and those immortal too, Begot by Madness, on fair Liberty; Heaven's daughter, h.e.l.l-debauch'd! her hand alone Unlocks destruction to the sons of men, 450 First barr'd by thine: high-wall'd with adamant, Guarded with terrors reaching to this world, And cover'd with the thunders of thy law; Whose threats are mercies, whose injunctions, guides, a.s.sisting, not restraining, Reason's choice; Whose sanctions, unavoidable results From nature's course, indulgently reveal'd; If unreveal'd, more dangerous, nor less sure.

Thus, an indulgent father warns his sons, "Do this; fly that"--nor always tells the cause; 460 Pleased to reward, as duty to his will, A conduct needful to their own repose.

Great G.o.d of wonders! (if, thy love survey'd, Aught else the name of wonderful retains), What rocks are these, on which to build our trust!

Thy ways admit no blemish; none I find; Or this alone--"That none is to be found."

Not one, to soften Censure's hardy crime; Not one, to palliate peevish Grief's Complaint, Who, like a demon, murmuring from the dust, 470 Dares into judgment call her Judge.--Supreme!

For all I bless thee; most, for the severe; Her[54] death--my own at hand--the fiery gulf, That flaming bound of wrath omnipotent!

It thunders;--but it thunders to preserve; It strengthens what it strikes; its wholesome dread Averts the dreaded pain; its hideous groans Join heaven's sweet hallelujahs in thy praise, Great Source of good alone! how kind in all!

In vengeance kind! Pain, Death, Gehenna, save. 480 Thus, in thy world material, Mighty Mind!

Not that alone which solaces, and shines, The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise.

The winter is as needful as the spring; The thunder, as the sun; a stagnate ma.s.s Of vapours breeds a pestilential air: Nor more propitious the Favonian[55] breeze To nature's health, than purifying storms; The dread volcano ministers to good.

Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. 490 Loud Etnas fulminate in love to man; Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd; 492 And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine.

Man is responsible for ills received; Those we call wretched are a chosen band, Compell'd to refuge in the right, for peace.

Amid my list of blessings infinite, Stands this the foremost, "That my heart has bled."

'Tis Heaven's last effort of good-will to man; When Pain can't bless, Heaven quits us in despair. 500 Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, Or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest; Inhuman, or effeminate, his heart; Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends.

May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness, Till it has taught him how to bear it well, By previous pain; and made it safe to smile!

Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain; Nor hazard their extinction, from excess.

My change of heart a change of style demands; 510 The Consolation cancels the Complaint, And makes a convert of my guilty song.

As when o'er-labour'd, and inclined to breathe, A panting traveller, some rising ground, Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round, And measures with his eye the various vales, The fields, woods, meads, and rivers, he has pa.s.s'd; And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, Endear'd by distance, nor affects more toil; Thus I, though small, indeed, is that ascent 520 The Muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod; Various, extensive, beaten but by view; And, conscious of her prudence in repose, Pause; and with pleasure meditate an end, Though still remote; so fruitful is my theme.

Through many a field of moral, and divine, 526 The Muse has stray'd; and much of sorrow seen In human ways; and much of false and vain; Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss.

O'er friends deceased full heartily she wept; Of love divine the wonders she display'd; Proved man immortal; show'd the source of joy The grand tribunal raised; a.s.sign'd the bounds Of human grief: in few, to close the whole, The moral Muse has shadow'd out a sketch, Though not in form, nor with a Raphael-stroke, Of most our weakness needs believe, or do, In this our land of travel, and of hope, For peace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 539 What then remains? much! much! a mighty debt To be discharged: these thoughts, O Night! are thine; From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs, While others slept. So, Cynthia (poets feign), In shadows veil'd, soft-sliding from her sphere, Her shepherd cheer'd; of her enamour'd less, Than I of thee.--And art thou still unsung, Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing?

Immortal silence! where shall I begin?

Where end? or how steal music from the spheres, To soothe their G.o.ddess? 550 O majestic Night!

Nature's great ancestor! Day's elder-born!

And fated to survive the transient sun!

By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe!

A starry crown thy raven brow adorns, An azure zone thy waist; clouds, in heaven's loom Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, In ample folds of drapery divine, Thy flowing mantle form; and, heaven throughout, Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 560 Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august, Inspiring aspect!) claim a grateful verse; And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold, Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene.

And what, O man! so worthy to be sung?

What more prepares us for the songs of heaven?

Creation, of archangels is the theme!

What, to be sung, so needful? What so well Celestial joys prepare us to sustain?

The soul of man, His face design'd to see, 570 Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, Has here a previous scene of objects great, On which to dwell; to stretch to that expanse Of thought, to rise to that exalted height Of admiration, to contract that awe, And give her whole capacities that strength, Which best may qualify for final joy.

The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven.

Heaven's King! whose face unveil'd consummates bliss; Redundant bliss! which fills that mighty void, 581 The whole creation leaves in human hearts!

Thou, who didst touch the lip of Jesse's son, Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires, And set his harp in concert with the spheres; While of thy works material the supreme I dare attempt, a.s.sist my daring song.

Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the sun's Contracted circle set my heart at large; Eliminate my spirit, give it range 590 Through provinces of thought yet unexplored; Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding, Creation's golden steps, to climb to Thee.

Teach me with Art great Nature to control, 594 And spread a l.u.s.tre o'er the shades of Night.

Feel I thy kind a.s.sent? and shall the sun Be seen at midnight, rising in my song?

Lorenzo! come, and warm thee: thou, whose heart, Whose little heart, is moor'd within a nook Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh.

Another ocean calls, a n.o.bler port; I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 602 Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main; Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or sh.o.r.e; And whence thou may'st import eternal wealth; And leave to beggar'd minds the pearl and gold.

Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms?

Thou stranger to the world! thy tour begin; Thy tour through Nature's universal orb.

Nature delineates her whole chart at large, 610 On soaring souls, that sail among the spheres; And man how purblind, if unknown the whole!

Who circles s.p.a.cious earth, then travels here, Shall own, he never was from home before!

Come, my Prometheus,[56] from thy pointed rock Of false ambition; if unchain'd, we'll mount; We'll, innocently, steal celestial fire, And kindle our devotion at the stars; A theft, that shall not chain, but set thee free.

Above our atmosphere's intestine[57] wars, 620 Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of hail; Above the northern nests of feather'd snows, The brew of thunders, and the flaming forge That forms the crooked lightning; 'bove the caves Where infant tempests wait their growing wings, And tune their tender voices to that roar, Which soon, perhaps, shall shake a guilty world; 627 Above misconstrued omens of the sky, Far-travell'd comets' calculated blaze; Elance[58] thy thought, and think of more than man.

Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither'd, shrunk, Blighted by blasts of earth's unwholesome air, Will blossom here; spread all her faculties To these bright ardours; every power unfold, And rise into sublimities of thought.

Stars teach, as well as shine. At Nature's birth, Thus their commission ran--"Be kind to Man."

Where art thou, poor benighted traveller?

The stars will light thee, though the moon should fail.

Where art thou, more benighted! more astray! 640 In ways immoral? The stars call thee back; And, if obey'd their counsel, set thee right.

This prospect vast, what is it?--Weigh'd aright, 'Tis Nature's system of divinity, And every student of the Night inspires.

'Tis elder Scripture, writ by G.o.d's own hand: Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man.

Lorenzo! with my radius (the rich gift Of thought nocturnal!) I'll point out to thee Its various lessons; some that may surprise 650 An un-adept in mysteries of Night; Little, perhaps, expected in her school, Nor thought to grow on planet, or on star.

Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters here we feign; Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here Exists indeed;--a lecture to mankind.

What read we here?--Th' existence of a G.o.d?

Yes; and of other beings, man above; Natives of ether! sons of higher climes!

And, what may move Lorenzo's wonder more, 660 Eternity is written in the skies. 661 And whose eternity?--Lorenzo! thine Mankind's eternity. Nor Faith alone, Virtue grows here; here springs the sovereign cure Of almost every vice; but chiefly thine; Wrath, Pride, Ambition, and impure Desire.