[The Complaint: or, Night-Thoughts on Life, Death & Immortality.] Night VI. The Infidel Reclaimed. In two Parts.

[ The Complaint : or , Night-Thoughts on Life , Death & Immortality . ] Night VI . The Infidel Reclaimed . In two Parts . Containing the nature , proof , and importance of immortality . Part I . Where , among other things , glory and riches are particularly considered . Humbly inscribed to the Right Honourable Henry Pelham , First Lord-Commissioner of the Treasury , and Chancellor of the Exchequer . Preface .

Few ages have been deeper in dispute about religion than this . The dispute about religion , and the practice of it , seldom go together . The shorter , therefore , the dispute , the better . I think it may be reduced to this single question , " Is man immortal , or is he not ? " If he is not , all our disputes are mere amusements , or trials of skill . In this case , truth , reason , religion , which give our discourses such pomp and solemnity , are ( as will be shown ) mere empty sounds , without any meaning in them . But if man is immortal , it will behove him to be very serious about eternal consequences ; or , in other words , to be truly religious . And this great fundamental truth unestablished , or unawakened , in the minds of men , is , I conceive , the real source and support of all our infidelity ; how remote soever the particular objections advanced may seem to be from it .

Sensible appearances affect most men much more than abstract reasonings ; and we daily see bodies drop around us , but the soul is invisible . The power which inclination has over the judgment , is greater than can be well conceived by those that have not had an experience of it ; and of what numbers is it the sad interest , that souls should not survive ! The Heathen world confessed that they rather hoped than firmly believed immortality : and how many Heathens have we still amongst us ! The sacred page assures us , that life and immortality is brought to light by the gospel : but by how many is the gospel rejected or overlooked ! From these considerations , and from my being , accidentally , privy to the sentiments of some particular persons , I have been long persuaded , that most , if not all , our infidels ( whatever name they take , and whatever scheme , for argument's sake , and to keep themselves in countenance , they patronize ) are supported in their deplorable error by some doubt of their immortality at the bottom . And I am satisfied that men , once thoroughly convinced of their immortality , are not far from being Christians . For it is hard to conceive that a man fully conscious eternal pain or happiness will certainly be his lot , should not earnestly and impartially inquire after the surest means of escaping one and securing the other . And of such an earnest and impartial inquiry I well know the consequence .

Here , therefore , in proof of this most fundamental truth , some plain arguments are offered ; arguments derived from principles which infidels admit in common with believers ; arguments which appear to me altogether irresistible ; and such as , I am satisfied , will have great weight with all who give themselves the small trouble of looking seriously into their own bosoms , and of observing , with any tolerable degree of attention , what daily passes round about them in the world . If some arguments shall here occur which others have declined , they are submitted , with all deference , to better judgments in this , of all points the most important . For as to the being of a God , that is no longer disputed ; but it is undisputed for this reason only , viz. , because , where the least pretence to reason is admitted , it must for ever be indisputable . And , of consequence , no man can be betrayed into a dispute of that nature by vanity , which has a principal share in animating our modern combatants against other articles of our belief .

She ( for I know not yet her name in heaven ) Not early , like Narcissa , left the scene ; Nor sudden , like Philander . What avail ? This seeming mitigation but inflames ; This fancied medicine heightens the disease . The longer known , the closer still she grew ; And gradual parting is a gradual death . 'T is the grim tyrant's engine , which extorts By tardy pressure's still-increasing weight , From hardest hearts , confession of distress . O the long , dark approach through years of pain , Death's gallery , ( might I dare to call it so , ) With dismal doubt and sable terror hung ; Sick Hope's pale lamp its only glimmering ray ! There Fate my melancholy walk ordain'd , Forbid Self-love itself to flatter there . How oft I gazed , prophetically sad ! How oft I saw her dead , while yet in smiles ! In smiles she sunk her grief , to lessen mine . She spoke me comfort , and increased my pain . Like powerful armies trenching at a town , By slow and silent , but resistless , sap , In his pale progress gently gaining ground , Death urged his deadly siege ; in spite of Art , Of all the balmy blessings Nature lends To succour frail humanity . Ye stars , ( Not now first made familiar to my sight , ) And thou , O Moon , bear witness ! many a night He tore the pillow from beneath my head , Tied down my sore attention to the shock , By ceaseless depredations on a life Dearer than that he left me . Dreadful post Of observation , darker every hour ! Less dread the day that drove me to the brink , And pointed at Eternity below ; When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; When , on a moment's point , the' important die Of life and death spun doubtful , ere it fell , And turn'd up life ; my title to more woe . But why more woe ? More comfort let it be . Nothing is dead but that which wish'd to die ; Nothing is dead but wretchedness and pain ; Nothing is dead but what encumber'd , gall'd , Block'd up the pass , and barr'd from real life . Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise ? Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars Too low to reach it ; Death , great Death alone , O'er stars and sun triumphant , lands us there . Nor dreadful our transition ; though the mind , An artist at creating self-alarms , Rich in expedients for inquietude , Is prone to paint it dreadful . Who can take Death's portrait true ? The tyrant never sat . Our sketch all random strokes , conjecture all ; Close shuts the Grave , nor tells one single tale . Death , and his image rising in the brain , Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike : Fear shakes the pencil ; Fancy loves excess ; Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades : And these the formidable picture draw . But grant the worst ; 't is past ; new prospects rise , And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb . Far other views our contemplation claim ; Views that o'erpay the rigours of our life , Views that suspend our agonies in death . Wrapt in the thought of immortality , Wrapt in the single , the triumphant thought , Long life might lapse , age unperceived come on , And find the soul unsated with her theme . Its nature , proof , importance , fire my song . O that my song could emulate my soul ! Like her , immortal . No ! — the soul disdains A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames ; If endless ages can outweigh an hour , Let not the laurel , but the palm , inspire . Thy nature , Immortality , who knows ? And yet who knows it not ? It is but life In stronger thread of brighter colour spun , And spun for ever ; dipp'd by cruel Fate In Stygian dye , how black , how brittle here ! How short our correspondence with the sun , And , while it lasts , inglorious ! Our best deeds , How wanting in their weight ! Our highest joys , Small cordials to support us in our pain , And give us strength to suffer . But how great To mingle interests , converse , amities , With all the sons of Reason , scatter'd wide Through habitable space , wherever born , Howe'er endow'd ; to live free citizens Of universal nature ; to lay hold , By more than feeble faith , on the Supreme ! To call Heaven's rich unfathomable mines ( Mines which support archangels in their state ) Our own ! to rise in science as in bliss , Initiate in the secrets of the skies ! To read Creation , read its mighty plan In the bare bosom of the Deity ! The plan and execution to collate ! To see , before each glance of piercing thought , All cloud , all shadow , blown remote , and leave No mystery — but that of love Divine , Which lifts us on the seraph's flaming wing , From earth's Aceldama , this field of blood , Of inward anguish , and of outward ill , From darkness and from dust , to such a scene ; Love's element , true joy's illustrious home , From earth's sad contrast ( now deplored ) more fair ! What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! Lorenzo , these are thoughts that make man Man , The wise illumine , aggrandize the great . How great , ( while yet we tread the kindred clod , And every moment fear to sink beneath The clod we tread , soon trodden by our sons , ) How great , in the wild whirl of Time's pursuits , To stop , and pause ; involved in high presage , Through the long vista of a thousand years , To stand contemplating our distant selves , As in a magnifying mirror seen , Enlarged , ennobled , elevate , Divine ! To prophesy our own futurities , To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends ! To talk , with fellow-candidates , of joys As far beyond conception as desert , Ourselves the' astonish'd talkers , and the tale ! Lorenzo , swells thy bosom at the thought ? The swell becomes thee ; 't is an honest pride . Revere thyself , — and yet thyself despise . His nature no man can o'er-rate , and none Can under-rate his merit . Take good heed , Nor there be modest where thou shouldst be proud ; That almost universal error shun . How just our pride , when we behold those heights ! Not those Ambition paints in air , but those Reason points out , and ardent Virtue gains , And angels emulate . Our pride , how just ! When mount we ? when these shackles cast ? when quit This cell of the creation ? this small nest , Stuck in a corner of the universe , Wrapp'd up in fleecy cloud and fine-spun air ? Fine-spun to sense , but gross and feculent To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe Ambrosial gales , and drink a purer sky ; Greatly triumphant on Time's farther shore , Where Virtue reigns , enrich'd with full arrears , While Pomp imperial begs an alms of Peace . In empire high , or in proud science deep , Ye born of earth , on what can you confer , With half the dignity , with half the gain , The gust , the glow of rational delight , As on this theme , which angels praise and share ? Man's fates and favours are a theme in heaven . What wretched repetition cloys us here ! What periodic potions for the sick , Distemper'd bodies , and distemper'd minds ! In an eternity what scenes shall strike , Adventures thicken , novelties surprise ! What webs of wonder shall unravel there ! What full day pour on all the paths of Heaven , And light the' Almighty's footsteps in the deep ! How shall the blessed day of our discharge Unwind , at once , the labyrinths of Fate , And straighten its inextricable maze ! If inextinguishable thirst in man To know , how rich , how full , our banquet there ! There , not the moral world alone unfolds ; The world material , lately seen in shades , And in those shades by fragments only seen , And seen those fragments by the labouring eye , Unbroken , then , illustrious and entire , Its ample sphere , its universal frame , In full dimensions , swells to the survey , And enters , at one glance , the ravish'd sight . From some superior point , ( where , who can tell ? Suffice it , 't is a point where gods reside , ) How shall the stranger man's illumined eye , In the vast ocean of unbounded space , Behold an infinite of floating worlds Divide the crystal waves of ether pure , In endless voyage , without port ! The least Of these disseminated orbs , how great ! Great as they are , what numbers these surpass , Huge as Leviathan to that small race , Those twinkling multitudes of little life , He swallows unperceived ! Stupendous these ! Yet what are these stupendous to the whole ? As particles , as atoms ill-perceived ; As circulating globules in our veins ; So vast the plan . Fecundity Divine ! Exuberant Source ! perhaps I wrong thee still . If admiration is a source of joy , What transport hence ! yet this the least in heaven . What this to that illustrious robe He wears Who toss'd this mass of wonders from His hand , A specimen , an earnest of His power ? Tis to that glory , whence all glory flows , As the mead's meanest floweret to the sun Which gave it birth . But what this Sun of heaven ? This bliss supreme of the supremely bless'd ? Death , only Death , the question can resolve . By Death , cheap-bought the' ideas of our joy ; The bare ideas ! solid happiness So distant from its shadow chased below . And chase we still the phantom through the fire , O'er bog , and brake , and precipice , till death ? And toil we still for sublunary pay , Defy the dangers of the field and flood ? Or , spider-like , spin out our precious all , Our more than vitals spin ( if no regard To great futurity ) in curious webs Of subtle thought , and exquisite design , ( Fine net-work of the brain ! ) to catch a fly , The momentary buzz of vain renown , A name , a mortal immortality ? Or , ( meaner still , ) instead of grasping air , For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ? Drudge , sweat , through every shame , for every gain , For vile contaminating trash ; throw up Our hope in heaven , our dignity with man , And deify the dirt , matured to gold ? Ambition , Avarice ! the two demons these , Which goad through every slough our human herd , Hard travell'd from the cradle to the grave . How low the wretches stoop ! how steep they climb ! These demons burn mankind ; but most possess Lorenzo's bosom , and turn out the skies . Is it in Time to hide Eternity ? And why not in an atom on the shore To cover ocean ? or a mote , the sun ? Glory and wealth ! have they this blinding power ? What , if to them I prove Lorenzo blind ? Would it surprise thee ? Be thou then surprised : Thou neither know'st : their nature learn from me . Mark well , as foreign as these subjects seem , What close connexion ties them to my theme . First , what is true ambition ? The pursuit Of glory , nothing less than man can share . Were they as vain as gaudy-minded man , As flatulent with fumes of self-applause , Their arts and conquests animals might boast , And claim their laurel crowns as well as we ; But not celestial . Here we stand alone ; As in our form , distinct , pre-eminent : If prone in thought , our stature is our shame , And man should blush his forehead meets the skies . The Visible and Present are for brutes , A slender portion , and a narrow bound ! These Reason , with an energy Divine , O'erleaps , and claims the Future and Unseen ; The vast Unseen , the Future fathomless ! When the great soul buoys up to this high point , Leaving gross Nature's sediments below , Then , and then only , Adam's offspring quits The sage and hero of the fields and woods , Asserts his rank , and rises into man . This is ambition : this is human fire . Can Parts or Place ( two bold pretenders ! ) make Lorenzo great , and pluck him from the throng ? Genius and Art , Ambition's boasted wings , Our boast but ill deserve . A feeble aid ! Daedalian engin'ry ! if these alone Assist our flight , Fame's flight is Glory's fall . Heart-merit wanting , mount we ne'er so high , Our height is but the gibbet of our name . A celebrated wretch when I behold , When I behold a genius bright and base , Of towering talents , and terrestrial aims ; Methinks I see , as thrown from her high sphere , The glorious fragments of a soul immortal , With rubbish mix'd , and glittering in the dust . Struck at the splendid , melancholy sight At once compassion soft , and envy , rise — But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright , If wanting worth , are shining instruments In false Ambition's hand , to finish faults Illustrious , and give Infamy renown . Great ill is an achievement of great powers : Plain Sense but rarely leads us far astray . Reason the means , Affections choose our end ; Means have no merit , if our end amiss . If wrong our hearts , our heads are right in vain ; What is a Pelham's head to Pelham's heart ? Hearts are proprietors of all applause . Right ends and means make wisdom ; worldly-wise Is but half-witted , at its highest praise . Let Genius then despair to make thee great ; Nor flatter Station . What is Station high ? Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts , and begs ; It begs an alms of homage from the throng , And oft the throng denies its charity . Monarchs and ministers are awful names ; Whoever wear them , challenge our devoir . Religion , public order , both exact External homage , and a supple knee , To beings pompously set up , to serve The meanest slave : all more is Merit's due , Her sacred and inviolable right ; Nor ever paid the monarch , but the man . Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth , Nor ever fail of their allegiance there . Fools , indeed , drop the man in their account , And vote the mantle into majesty . Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; His royal robe unborrow'd and unbought , His own , descending fairly from his sires . Shall man be proud to wear his livery , And souls in ermine scorn a soul without ? Can place or lessen us or aggrandize ? Pigmies are pigmies still , though perch'd on Alps ; And pyramids are pyramids in vales . Each man makes his own stature , builds himself : Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids ; Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall . Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause ? The cause is lodged in immortality . Hear , and assent . Thy bosom burns for power ; What station charms thee ? I'll install thee there ; 'T is thine . And art thou greater than before ? Then thou before wast something less than man . Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? That treacherous pride betrays thy dignity ; That pride defames humanity , and calls The being mean which staffs or strings can raise . That pride , like hooded hawks , in darkness soars , From blindness bold , and towering to the skies . 'T is born of Ignorance , which knows not man An angel's second ; nor his second long . A Nero , quitting his imperial throne , And courting glory from the tinkling string , But faintly shadows an immortal soul , With empire's self , to pride or rapture fired . If nobler motives minister no cure , E'en Vanity forbids thee to be vain . High worth is elevated place : 't is more ; It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; Makes more than monarchs , makes an honest man ; Though no exchequer it commands , 't is wealth ; And though it wears no riband , 't is renown ; Renown , that would not quit thee , though disgraced , Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile . Other ambition Nature interdicts ; Nature proclaims it most absurd in man , By pointing at his origin and end ; Milk and a swathe , at first , his whole demand ; His whole domain , at last , a turf or stone ; To whom , between , a world may seem too small . Souls truly great dart forward , on the wing Of just Ambition , to the grand result , The curtain's fall ; there see the buskin'd chief Unshod behind this momentary scene , Reduced to his own stature , low or high , As vice , or virtue , sinks him , or sublimes ; And laugh at this fantastic mummery , This antic prelude of grotesque events , Where dwarfs are often stilted , and betray A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run , And nations laid in blood . Dread sacrifice To Christian pride ! which had with horror shock'd The darkest Pagans , offer'd to their gods . O thou most Christian enemy to peace ! Again in arms ? again provoking Fate ? That prince , and that alone , is truly great , Who draws the sword reluctant , gladly sheathes ; On empire builds what empire far outweighs , And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies . Why this so rare ? Because forgot of all The day of death ; that venerable day , Which sits as judge ; that day which shall pronounce On all our days , absolve them or condemn . Lorenzo , never shut thy thought against it ; Be levees ne'er so full , afford it room , And give it audience in the cabinet . That friend consulted ( flatteries apart ) Will tell thee fair if thou art great or mean . To dote on aught may leave us , or be left , — Is that ambition ? Then let flames descend , Point to the centre their inverted spires , And learn humiliation from a soul Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire . Yet these are they the world pronounces wise ; The world which cancels Nature's right and wrong , And casts new wisdom : e'en the grave man lends His solemn face to countenance the coin . Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole . This stamps the paradox , and gives us leave To call the wisest weak , the richest poor , The most ambitious unambitious , mean ; In triumph mean , and abject on a throne . Nothing can make it less than mad in man , To put forth all his ardour , all his art , And give his soul her full unbounded flight , But reaching Him who gave her wings to fly . When blind Ambition quite mistakes her road , And downward pores for that which shines above , Substantial happiness , and true renown ; Then , like an idiot , gazing on the brook , We leap at stars , and fasten in the mud ; At glory grasp , and sink in infamy . Ambition ! powerful source of good and ill ! Thy strength in man , like length of wing in birds , When disengaged from earth , with greater ease And swifter flight , transports us to the skies : By toys entangled , or in guilt bemired , It turns a curse ; it is our chain and scourge In this dark dungeon , where confined we lie , Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense ; All prospect of eternity shut out ; And , but for execution , ne'er set free . With error in ambition justly charged , Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth ? What , if thy rental I reform , and draw An inventory new to set thee right ? Where thy true treasure ? Gold says , " Not in me ; " And , " Not in me , " the diamond . Gold is poor ; India's insolvent : seek it in thyself ; Seek in thy naked self , and find it there ; In being so descended , form'd , endow'd ; Sky-born , sky-guided , sky-returning race ! Erect , immortal , rational , Divine ! In senses , which inherit earth and heavens ; Enjoy the various riches Nature yields ; Far nobler ! give the riches they enjoy ; Give taste to fruits , and harmony to groves , Their radiant beams to gold , and gold's bright sire ; Take-in , at once , the landscape of the world , At a small inlet , which a grain might close , And half-create the wondrous world they see . Our senses , as our reason , are Divine . But for the magic organ's powerful charm , Earth were a rude , uncolour'd chaos still . Objects are but the' occasion : ours the' exploit ; Ours is the cloth , the pencil , and the paint , Which Nature's admirable picture draws , And beautifies Creation's ample dome . Like Milton's Eve , when gazing on the lake , Man makes the matchless image man admires . Say then , shall man , his thoughts all sent abroad , ( Superior wonders in himself forgot , ) His admiration waste on objects round , When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees ? Absurd , not rare ! so great , so mean , is man ! What wealth in senses such as these ! What wealth In Fancy fired to form a fairer scene Than Sense surveys ! in Memory's firm record ! Which , should it perish , could this world recall From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years , In colours fresh , originally bright , Preserve its portrait , and report its fate ! What wealth in Intellect , that sovereign power , Which Sense and Fancy summons to the bar ; Interrogates , approves , or reprehends ; And from the mass those underlings import , From their materials sifted , and refined , And in Truth's balance accurately weigh'd , Forms art and science , government and law ; The solid basis and the beauteous frame , The vitals and the grace , of civil life ; And , manners ( sad exception ! ) set aside , Strikes out , with master-hand , a copy fair Of His idea , whose indulgent thought , Long , long ere Chaos teem'd , plann'd human bliss ! What wealth in souls that soar , dive , range around , Disdaining limit or from place or time : And hear at once , in thought extensive , hear The' Almighty fiat , and the trumpet's sound ! Bold on Creation's outside walk , and view What was , and is , and more than e'er shall be ; Commanding , with omnipotence of thought , Creations new in Fancy's field to rise ! Souls , that can grasp whate'er the' Almighty made , And wander wild through things impossible ! What wealth in faculties of endless growth , In quenchless passions violent to crave , In liberty to choose , in power to reach , And in duration , ( how thy riches rise ! ) Duration to perpetuate — boundless bliss ! Ask you , what power resides in feeble man That bliss to gain ? Is Virtue's , then , unknown ? Virtue , our present peace , our future prize ! Man's unprecarious , natural estate , Improvable at will , in Virtue lies ; Its tenure sure ; its income is Divine . High-built abundance , heap on heap ! for what ? To breed new wants , and beggar us the more ! Then , make a richer scramble for the throng . Soon as this feeble pulse , which leaps so long Almost by miracle , is tired with play , Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown , Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly ; Fly diverse ; fly to foreigners , to foes ; New masters court , and call the former fool ( How justly ! ) for dependence on their stay . Wide scatter , first , our playthings ; then our dust . Dost court abundance for the sake of peace ? Learn , and lament thy self-defeated scheme : Riches enable to be richer still ; And richer still what mortal can resist ? Thus Wealth ( a cruel task-master ) enjoins New toils , succeeding toils , an endless train ! And murders Peace , which taught it first to shine . The poor are half as wretched as the rich , Whose proud and painful privilege it is At once to bear a double load of woe ; To feel the stings of Envy and of Want , Outrageous Want , both Indies cannot cure . A competence is vital to content . Much wealth is corpulence , if not disease : Sick , or encumber'd , is our happiness . A competence is all we can enjoy . O be content where Heaven can give no more ! More , like a flash of water from a lock , Quickens our spirit's movement for an hour ; But soon its force is spent , nor rise our joys Above our native temper's common stream . Hence Disappointment lurks in every prize , As bees in flowers , and stings us with success . The rich man who denies it , proudly feigns , Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie . Much learning shows how little mortals know ; Much wealth , how little worldlings can enjoy : At best it babies us with endless toys , And keeps us children till we drop to dust . As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed , They fail to find what they so plainly see : Thus men , in shining riches , see the face Of Happiness , nor know it is a shade ; But gaze , and touch , and peep , and peep again And wish , and wonder it is absent still . How few can rescue opulence from want ! Who lives to Nature rarely can be poor ; Who lives to Fancy never can be rich . Poor is the man in debt ; the man of gold , In debt to Fortune , trembles at her power : The man of Reason smiles at her and Death . O what a patrimony this ! A being Of such inherent strength and majesty , Not worlds possess'd can raise it ; worlds destroy'd Can't injure ; which holds on its glorious course , When thine , O Nature ! ends ; too bless'd to mourn Creation's obsequies . What treasure this ! The monarch is a beggar to the man . IMMORTAL ! Ages past , yet nothing gone ! Morn without eve ! a race without a goal , Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! Futurity for ever future ! life Beginning still where computation ends ! 'T is the description of a Deity ! 'T is the description of the meanest slave : The meanest slave dares , then , Lorenzo scorn ? The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares . Proud youth , fastidious of the lower world ! Man's lawful pride includes humility ; Stoops to the lowest ; is too great to find Inferiors : all immortal ! brothers all ! Proprietors eternal of thy love ! IMMORTAL ! What can strike the sense so strong , As this the soul ? It thunders to the thought ; Reason amazes ; gratitude o'erwhelms . No more we slumber on the brink of fate ; Roused at the sound , the' exulting soul ascends , And breathes her native air ; an air that feeds Ambitions high , and fans ethereal fires ; Quick kindles all that is Divine within us , Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars . Has not Lorenzo's bosom caught the flame ? Immortal ! Were but one immortal , how Would others envy ! how would thrones adore ! Because 't is common , is the blessing lost ? How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven ! O vain , vain , vain , all else ! Eternity ! A glorious and a needful refuge , that , From vile imprisonment in abject views . 'T is immortality , 't is that alone , Amid Life's pains , abasements , emptiness , The soul can comfort , elevate , and fill . That only , and that amply , this performs , Lifts us above Life's pains , her joys above ; Their terror those , and these their lustre , lose : Eternity depending covers all ; Eternity depending all achieves ; Sets Earth at distance ; casts her into shades ; Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her powers : The low , the lofty , joyous , and severe , Fortune's dread frowns and fascinating smiles , Make one promiscuous and neglected heap , The man beneath ; if I may call him man , Whom immortality's full force inspires . Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought : Suns shine unseen , and thunders roll unheard , By minds quite conscious of their high descent , Their present province , and their future prize ; Divinely darting upward every wish , Warm on the wing , in glorious absence lost ! Doubt you this truth ? Why labours your belief ? If Earth's whole orb , by some due-distanced eye , Were seen at once , her towering Alps would sink , And levell'd Atlas leave an even sphere . Thus Earth , and all that earthly minds admire , Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round . To that stupendous view when souls awake , So large of late , so mountainous to man , Time's toys subside ; and equal all below . Enthusiastic this ? then all are weak , But rank enthusiasts . To this godlike height Some souls have soar'd , or martyrs ne'er had bled : And all may do what has by man been done . Who , beaten by these sublunary storms , Boundless , interminable joys can weigh , Unraptured , unexalted , uninflamed ? What slave , unbless'd , who from to-morrow's dawn Expects an empire ? He forgets his chain , And , throned in thought , his absent sceptre waves . And what a sceptre waits us ! what a throne ! Her own immense appointments to compute , Or comprehend her high prerogatives , In this her dark minority , how toils , How vainly pants , the human soul Divine ! Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy . What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss ? In spite of all the truths the Muse has sung , Ne'er to be prized enough , enough revolved ! Are there who wrap the world so close about them , They see no farther than the clouds ; and dance On heedless Vanity's fantastic toe , Till , stumbling at a straw , in their career , Headlong they plunge , where end both dance and song ? Are there , Lorenzo ? is it possible ? Are there on earth ( let me not call them men ) Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; Or rock , of its inestimable gem ? When rocks shall melt , and mountains vanish , these Shall know their treasure ; treasure then no more . Are there ( still more amazing ! ) who resist The rising thought ? who smother , in its birth , The glorious truth ? who struggle to be brutes ? Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way ; And , with reversed ambition , strive to sink ? Who labour downwards through the' opposing powers Of Instinct , Reason , and the World against them , To dismal hopes , and shelter in the shock Of endless night , night darker than the grave's ? Who fight the proofs of immortality ? With horrid zeal and execrable arts , Work all their engines , level their black fires , To blot from man this attribute Divine , ( Than vital blood far dearer to the wise , ) Blasphemers , and rank atheists to themselves ? To contradict them , see all Nature rise ! What object , what event , the moon beneath , But argues , or endears , an after-scene ? To Reason proves , or weds it to Desire ? All things proclaim it needful ; some advance One precious step beyond , and prove it sure . A thousand arguments swarm round my pen , From Heaven , and Earth , and Man . Indulge a few , By nature , as her common habit , worn ; So pressing Providence a truth to teach , Which truth untaught , all other truths were vain . THOU ! whose all-providential eye surveys , Whose hand directs , whose Spirit fills and warms Creation , and holds empire far beyond ! Eternity's Inhabitant august ; Of two eternities amazing Lord ! One past , ere man's or angel's had begun : Aid ! while I rescue from the foe's assault Thy glorious immortality in man : A theme for ever , and for all , of weight , Of moment infinite ! but relish'd most By those who love Thee most , who most adore . Nature , Thy daughter , ever-changing birth Of Thee the great Immutable , to man Speaks wisdom ; is his oracle supreme ; And he who most consults her is most wise . Lorenzo , to this heavenly Delphos haste ; And come back all-immortal , all-Divine : Look Nature through , 't is revolution all ; All change , no death . Day follows night ; and night , The dying day ; stars rise , and set , and rise ; Earth takes the' example . See , the Summer gay , With her green chaplet and ambrosial flowers , Droops into pallid Autumn : Winter grey , Horrid with frost , and turbulent with storm , Blows Autumn and his golden fruits away ; Then melts into the Spring : soft Spring , with breath Favonian , from warm chambers of the south Recalls the first . All , to re-flourish , fades ; As in a wheel , all sinks , to re-ascend : Emblems of man , who passes , not expires . With this minute distinction , emblems just , — Nature revolves , but man advances : both Eternal ; that a circle , this a line ; That gravitates , this soars . The' aspiring Soul , Ardent and tremulous , like flame , ascends ; Zeal and Humility her wings to heaven . The world of matter , with its various forms , All dies into new life . Life , born from Death , Rolls the vast mass , and shall for ever roll . No single atom , once in being , lost , With change of counsel charges the Most High . What hence infers Lorenzo ? Can it be ? Matter immortal ? And shall spirit die ? Above the nobler , shall less noble rise ? Shall man alone , for whom all else revives , No resurrection know ? Shall man alone , Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground , Less privileged than grain on which he feeds ? Is man , in whom alone is power to prize The bliss of being , or with previous pain Deplore its period , by the spleen of Fate , Severely doom'd Death's single unredeem'd ? If Nature's revolution speaks aloud , In her gradation hear her louder still . Look Nature through ; 't is neat gradation all . By what minute degrees her scale ascends ! Each middle nature join'd at each extreme , To that above it join'd , to that beneath . Parts into parts reciprocally shot Abhor divorce . What love of union reigns ! Here , dormant matter waits a call to life ; Half-life , half-death , join there : here , life and sense ; There , sense from reason steals a glimmering ray ; Reason shines out in man . But how preserved The chain unbroken upward , to the realms Of incorporeal life ? those realms of bliss Where Death hath no dominion ? Grant a make Half-mortal , half-immortal ; earthy part , And part ethereal : grant the soul of man Eternal ; or in man the series ends . Wide yawns the gap ; connexion is no more ; Check'd Reason halts ; her next step wants support ; Striving to climb , she tumbles from her scheme ; A scheme Analogy pronounced so true : Analogy , man's surest guide below . Thus far all Nature calls on thy belief . And will Lorenzo , careless of the call , False attestation on all Nature charge , Rather than violate his league with Death ? Renounce his reason , rather than renounce The dust beloved , and run the risk of heaven ? O what indignity to deathless souls ! What treason to the majesty of man , Of man immortal hear the lofty style : — " If so decreed , the' almighty will be done . Let earth dissolve , yon ponderous orbs descend , And grind us into dust : the soul is safe ; The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck . As towering flame from Nature's funeral pyre ; O'er Devastation , as a gainer , smiles ; His charter , his inviolable rights , Well-pleased to learn from Thunder's impotence , Death's pointless darts , and Hell's defeated storms . " But these chimeras touch not thee , Lorenzo ! The glories of the world thy sevenfold shield . Other ambition than of crowns in air , And superlunary felicities , Thy bosom warms . I'll cool it , if I can ; And turn those glories that enchant , against thee . What ties thee to this life proclaims the next . If wise , the cause that wounds thee is thy cure . Come , my ambitious ! let us mount together , ( To mount , Lorenzo never can refuse , ) And from the clouds , where Pride delights to dwell , Look down on Earth . — What seest thou ? Wondrous things ! Terrestrial wonders , that eclipse the skies . What lengths of labour'd lands ! what loaded seas ! Loaded by man for pleasure , wealth , or war ! Seas , winds , and planets , into service brought , His art acknowledge , and promote his ends . Nor can the' eternal rocks his will withstand : What levell'd mountains , and what lifted vales ! O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell , And gild our landscape with their glittering spires . Some 'mid the wondering waves majestic rise ; And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms . Far greater still ! ( what cannot mortal might ? ) See wide dominions ravish'd from the deep : The narrow'd deep with indignation foams . Or southward turn : to delicate and grand The finer arts there ripen in the sun . How the tall temples , as to meet their gods , Ascend the skies ! The proud triumphal arch Shows us half heaven beneath its ample bend . High through mid-air , here streams are taught to flow ; Whole rivers , there , laid by in basins , sleep . Here , plains turn oceans ; there , vast oceans join Through kingdoms channell'd deep from shore to shore , And changed Creation takes its face from man . Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes . Where fame and empire wait upon the sword ? See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise , — Britannia's voice , that awes the world to peace ! How yon enormous mole projecting breaks The mid-sea furious waves ! Their roar amidst , Out-speaks the Deity , and says , " O main ! Thus far , nor farther ! new restraints obey . " Earth's disembowell'd ! measured are the skies ! Stars are detected in their deep recess ! Creation widens ! vanquish'd Nature yields ! Her secrets are extorted ! Art prevails ! What monuments of genius , spirit , power ! And now , Lorenzo , raptured at this scene , Whose glories render heaven superfluous ! say , Whose footsteps these ? — Immortals have been here . Could less than souls immortal this have done ? Earth's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal , And proofs of immortality forgot . To flatter thy grand foible , I confess , These are Ambition's works ; and these are great : But this the least immortal souls can do : Transcend them all . — " But what can these transcend ? " Dost ask me , what ? — One sigh for the distress'd . " What then for infidels ? " — A deeper sigh . 'T is moral grandeur makes the mighty man : How little they who think aught great below ! All our ambitions Death defeats , but one ; And that it crowns . — Here cease we ; but , ere long , More powerful proof shall take the field against thee , Stronger than Death , and smiling at the tomb .