There, disenc.u.mber'd from her chains, the ties 1020 Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large; There, freely can respire, dilate, extend, In full proportion let loose all her powers; And, undeluded, grasp at something great.

Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there; But, wonderful herself, through wonder strays; Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own; Dives deep in their economy divine, Sits high in judgment on their various laws, And, like a master, judges not amiss. 1030 Hence greatly pleased, and justly proud, the soul Grows conscious of her birth celestial; breathes 1032 More life, more vigour, in her native air; And feels herself at home amongst the stars; And, feeling, emulates her country's praise.

What call we, then, the firmament, Lorenzo?-- As earth the body, since the skies sustain The soul with food, that gives immortal life, Call it, the n.o.ble pasture of the mind; Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, 1040 And riots through the luxuries of thought.

Call it, the garden of the Deity, Blossom'd with stars, redundant in the growth Of fruit ambrosial; moral fruit to man.

Call it, the breastplate of the true High Priest, Ardent with gems oracular, that give, In points of highest moment, right response; And ill neglected, if we prize our peace.

Thus, have we found a true astrology; Thus, have we found a new, and n.o.ble sense, 1050 In which alone stars govern human fates.

O that the stars (as some have feign'd) let fall Bloodshed, and havoc, on embattled realms, And rescued monarchs from so black a guilt!

Bourbon! this wish how generous in a foe!

Would'st thou be great, would'st thou become a G.o.d, And stick thy deathless name among the stars, For mighty conquests on a needle's point?

Instead of forging chains for foreigners, Bastile thy tutor: grandeur all thy aim? 1060 As yet thou know'st not what it is: how great, How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, When in it all the stars, and planets, roll!

And what it seems, it is: great objects make Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge; 1065 Those still more G.o.dlike, as these more divine.

And more divine than these, thou canst not see.

Dazzled, o'erpower'd, with the delicious draught Of miscellaneous splendours, how I reel From thought to thought, inebriate, without end!

An Eden, this! a Paradise unlost!

I meet the Deity in every view, 1072 And tremble at my nakedness before him!

O that I could but reach the tree of life!

For here it grows, unguarded from our taste; No flaming sword denies our entrance here; Would man but gather, he might live for ever.

Lorenzo! much of moral hast thou seen.

Of curious arts art thou more fond? Then mark The mathematic glories of the skies, 1080 In number, weight, and measure, all ordain'd.

Lorenzo's boasted builders, Chance, and Fate, Are left to finish his aerial towers; Wisdom and choice, their well-known characters Here deep impress; and claim it for their own.

Though splendid all, no splendour void of use; Use rivals beauty; art contends with power; No wanton waste, amid effuse expense; The great Economist adjusting all To prudent pomp, magnificently wise. 1090 How rich the prospect! and for ever new!

And newest to the man that views it most; For newer still in infinite succeeds.

Then, these aerial racers, O how swift!

How the shaft loiters from the strongest string!

Spirit alone can distance the career.

Orb above orb ascending without end!

Circle in circle, without end, enclosed!

Wheel, within wheel; Ezekiel! like to thine! 1099 Like thine, it seems a vision or a dream; Though seen, we labour to believe it true!

What involution! what extent! what swarms Of worlds, that laugh at earth! immensely great!

Immensely distant from each other's spheres!

What, then, the wondrous s.p.a.ce through which they roll?

At once it quite engulfs all human thought; 'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat.

Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here; Through this ill.u.s.trious chaos to the sight, Arrangement neat, and chastest order, reign. 1110 The path prescribed, inviolably kept, Upbraids the lawless sallies of mankind.

Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere; What knots are tied! how soon are they dissolved, And set the seeming married planets free!

They rove for ever, without error rove; Confusion unconfused! nor less admire This tumult untumultuous; all on wing!

In motion, all! yet what profound repose!

What fervid action, yet no noise! as awed 1120 To silence, by the presence of their Lord; Or hush'd by His command, in love to man, And bid let fall soft beams on human rest, Restless themselves. On yon cerulean plain, In exultation to their G.o.d, and thine, They dance, they sing eternal jubilee, Eternal celebration of His praise.

But, since their song arrives not at our ear, Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight Fair hieroglyphic of His peerless power. 1130 Mark how the labyrinthian turns they take, The circles intricate, and mystic maze, Weave the grand cipher of Omnipotence; 1133 To G.o.ds, how great! how legible to man!

Leaves so much wonder greater wonder still?

Where are the pillars that support the skies?

What more than Atlantean shoulder props Th' inc.u.mbent load? What magic, what strange art, In fluid air these ponderous...o...b.. sustains?

Who would not think them hung in golden chains?-- 1140 And so they are; in the high will of heaven, Which fixes all; makes adamant of air, Or air of adamant; makes all of nought, Or nought of all; if such the dread decree.

Imagine from their deep foundations torn The most gigantic sons of earth, the broad And towering Alps, all toss'd into the sea; And, light as down, or volatile as air, Their bulks enormous, dancing on the waves, In time, and measure, exquisite; while all 1150 The winds, in emulation of the spheres, Tune their sonorous instruments aloft; The concert swell, and animate the ball.

Would this appear amazing? What, then, worlds, In a far thinner element sustain'd, And acting the same part, with greater skill, More rapid movement, and for n.o.blest ends?

More obvious ends to pa.s.s, are not these stars The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones, On which angelic delegates of heaven, 1160 At certain periods, as the Sovereign nods, Discharge high trusts of vengeance, or of love; To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design, And acts most solemn still more solemnize?

Ye citizens of air! what ardent thanks, What full effusion of the grateful heart, Is due from man indulged in such a sight! 1167 A sight so n.o.ble! and a sight so kind!

It drops new truths at every new survey!

Feels not Lorenzo something stir within, That sweeps away all period? As these spheres Measure duration, they no less inspire The G.o.dlike hope of ages without end.

The boundless s.p.a.ce, through which these rovers take Their restless roam, suggests the sister thought Of boundless time. Thus, by kind Nature's skill, To man unlabour'd, that important guest, Eternity, finds entrance at the sight: And an eternity, for man ordain'd, Or these his destined midnight counsellors, 1180 The stars, had never whisper'd it to man.

Nature informs, but ne'er insults, her sons.

Could she then kindle the most ardent wish To disappoint it?--That is blasphemy.

Thus, of thy creed a second article, Momentous, as th' existence of a G.o.d, Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought; And thou may'st read thy soul immortal, here.

Here, then, Lorenzo! on these glories dwell; Nor want the gilt, illuminated, roof, 1190 That calls the wretched gay to dark delights.

a.s.semblies?--This is one divinely bright; Here, unendanger'd in health, wealth, or fame, Range through the fairest, and the Sultan scorn; He, wise as thou, no crescent holds so fair, As that, which on his turban awes a world; And thinks the moon is proud to copy him.

Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give, A mind superior to the charms of power.

Thou m.u.f.fled in delusions of this life! 1200 Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed, 1201 From side to side, in constant ebb, and flow, And purify from stench his watery realms?

And fails her moral influence? wants she power To turn Lorenzo's stubborn tide of thought From stagnating on earth's infected sh.o.r.e, And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart?

Fails her attraction when it draws to heaven?

Nay, and to what thou valuest more, earth's joy?

Minds elevate, and panting for unseen, 1210 And defecate[66] from sense, alone obtain Full relish of existence undeflower'd, The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss: All else on earth amounts--to what? to this: "Bad to be suffer'd; blessings to be left:"

Earth's richest inventory boasts no more.

Of higher scenes be, then, the call obey'd.

O let me gaze!--Of gazing there's no end.

O let me think!--Thought too is wilder'd here; In midway flight imagination tires; 1220 Yet soon reprunes her wing to soar anew, Her point unable to forbear, or gain; So great the pleasure, so profound the plan!

A banquet, this, where men, and angels, meet, Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heaven.

How distant some of these nocturnal suns!

So distant (says the sage), 'twere not absurd To doubt, if beams, set out at Nature's birth, Are yet arrived at this so foreign world; Though nothing half so rapid as their flight. 1230 An eye of awe and wonder let me roll, And roll for ever: who can satiate sight In such a scene? in such an ocean wide Of deep astonishment? where depth, height, breadth, Are lost in their extremes; and where to count 1235 The thick-sown glories in this field of fire, Perhaps a seraph's computation fails.

Now, go, Ambition! boast thy boundless might In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain.

And yet Lorenzo calls for miracles, To give his tottering faith a solid base.

Why call for less than is already thine? 1242 Thou art no novice in theology; What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire, on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.

To common sense, great Nature's course proclaims A Deity: when mankind falls asleep, A miracle is sent, as an alarm; To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again, 1250 By recent argument, but not more strong.

Say, which imports more plenitude of power, Or nature's laws to fix, or to repeal?

To make a sun, or stop his mid career?

To countermand his orders, and send back The flaming courier to the frighted east, Warm'd, and astonish'd, at his evening ray?

Or bid the moon, as with her journey tired, In Ajalon's[67] soft, flowery vale repose?

Great things are these; still greater, to create. 1260 From Adam's bower look down through the whole train Of miracles;--resistless is their power?

They do not, can not, more amaze the mind, Than this, call'd unmiraculous survey, If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen, If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed, Sees nought but spangles here; the fool, no more.

Say'st thou, "The course of nature governs all?"

The course of Nature is the art of G.o.d. 1269 The miracles thou call'st for, this attest; For say, could Nature Nature's course control?

But, miracles apart, who sees Him not, Nature's controller, author, guide, and end?

Who turns his eye on Nature's midnight face, But must inquire--"What hand behind the scene, What arm almighty, put these wheeling globes In motion, and wound up the vast machine?

Who rounded in his palm these s.p.a.cious...o...b..?

Who bowl'd them flaming through the dark profound, Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew, 1280 Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, And set the bosom of old Night on fire?

Peopled her desert, and made horror smile?"

Or, if the military style delights thee (For stars have fought their battles, leagued with man), "Who marshals this bright host? enrols their names?

Appoints their posts, their marches, and returns, Punctual, at stated periods? who disbands These veteran troops, their final duty done, If e'er disbanded?"--He, whose potent word, 1290 Like the loud trumpet, levied first their powers In Night's inglorious empire, where they slept In beds of darkness: arm'd them with fierce flames, Arranged, and disciplined, and clothed in gold; And call'd them out of chaos to the field, Where now they war with vice and unbelief.

O let us join this army! joining these, Will give us hearts intrepid, at that hour, When brighter flames shall cut a darker night; When these strong demonstrations of a G.o.d 1300 Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, And one eternal curtain cover all!

Struck at that thought, as new awaked, I lift 1303 A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars To man still more propitious; and their aid (Though guiltless of idolatry) implore; Nor longer rob them of their n.o.blest name.

O ye dividers of my time! ye bright Accountants of my days, and months, and years, In your fair calendar distinctly mark'd! 1310 Since that authentic, radiant register, Though man inspects it not, stands good against him; Since you, and years, roll on, though man stands still; Teach me my days to number, and apply My trembling heart to wisdom; now beyond All shadow of excuse for fooling on.

Age smooths our path to prudence; sweeps aside The snares keen appet.i.te and pa.s.sion spread To catch stray souls; and woe to that grey head, Whose folly would undo, what age has done! 1320 Aid then, aid, all ye stars!--Much rather, Thou, Great Artist! Thou, whose finger set aright This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, Though intervolved, exact; and pointing out Life's rapid, and irrevocable flight, With such an index fair, as none can miss, Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed.

Open mine eye, dread Deity! to read The tacit doctrine of thy works; to see Things as they are, unalter'd through the gla.s.s 1330 Of worldly wishes. Time, eternity!

('Tis these, mismeasured, ruin all mankind) Set them before me; let me lay them both In equal scale, and learn their various weight.

Let time appear a moment, as it is; And let eternity's full orb, at once, Turn on my soul, and strike it into heaven. 1337 When shall I see far more than charms me now?

Gaze on creation's model in thy breast Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more?

When this vile, foreign, dust, which smothers all That travel earth's deep vale, shall I shake off?

When shall my soul her incarnation quit, And, readopted to thy bless'd embrace, Obtain her apotheosis in Thee?

Dost think, Lorenzo, this is wandering wide?

No,'tis directly striking at the mark; To wake thy dead devotion was my point; And how I bless Night's consecrating shades, Which to a temple turn an universe; 1350 Fill us with great ideas, full of heaven, And antidote the pestilential earth!

In every storm, that either frowns, or falls, What an asylum has the soul in prayer!

And what a fane[68] is this, in which to pray!