The Extacy. I. Mount, Mount, my Soul on high, Cut thro' the spacious Sky; Scale the great Mountainous heaps that be, Betwixt the upper World, and thee. Stop not, till thou the utmost Region know, Leave all the Glittering Worlds below: Then take thy Noble flight, Into the sacred Magazine of Light, View the bright, the Empyrean Throne Of the great, the Almighty ONE. All the Miriades of shining Hosts survey, With the seraphick blazing Throng; Celebrating their Eternal Day, With an Eternal Song. In vain my dazled Soul would gaze around, (The beatifick Glorys so confound) It must be quite disrob'd, e'er tread this Holy Ground. II. Descend you daring Spirit, think 'tis fair, If thou may'st traverse the inferior Air, Content with humbler Curiosities, View the expanded the Skies, With radient Worlds, 'tis richly deck'd, By the Almighty Architect. Mount Charles's Wain, Drive over all the Ætherial Plain, And to augment thy Speed, With blazing Comets lash the Restive Steeds. Make them neigh aloud and Foam, Till all the Sky a Milky way become; What tho' they Fret and Rage, To pass their wonted Stage. Make them Praunce o'er all the amazing Place, Quite to the empty Space, And as ye go, see what Inhabitants there are, In every World, of every Star; Their Shape, their Manners and their State, Write in Journals as ye go, And to the inquiring Earth relate; By dropping it below. When weary'd with your universal round, Let the Sphears harmonious sound, Refresh and Charm your Spirits, till they be Fit to fly back to their first ventur'd one Immensity But oh! the Harmony's too soft, too sweet, The Eternal strains too ravishingly great, I cannot bear such Transports yet, Well then, I'll leave these mighty heights and go And over-look the little Globe below. III. In this Amphibious Ball, is vast variety, To entertain my Curiosity: Here the great Waters of the mighty deep, Their fixt amazing Bounds do keep; In vain they Rage and Roar, But dare not touch on the restraining Shoar. Here finny Herds of th' smallest sort, Safely Play and Sport; Wanton I'th' Flood, with no more Danger then The Pastimes of Leviathan. Here does in Triumph ride, The stately Trophies of Britania's Pride: Her Ships which to the Indies Trade, Such Noble Fabricks are made; And so numerous appear, The frighted Natives do our Traffick fear, And doubt we will invade. Securely too in these, They visit the Antipodes. From Britain they, the courteous Race begun, A piece of complaisance unknown, To all but civil Drake, and the obliging Sun. Neptune with pompous Pride does bear Those glorious Terrors; Ships of War. The floating Towr's they in Battalia draw; Keep all the circling Realms in awe. Yet these vast Bodies, the soft Waters bear: So the great Bird of Jove, mounts in the trackless Air. On the smooth Floods, the swelling Billows rise, As if the liquid Mountains touch'd the Skies: Then quick they plunged, with an Impetuous hast, And seem'd to speak Destruction as they pass'd, Yet Arm'd with Avarice and Curiosities, Men scorn the Dangers, of the threatning Seas. IV. Next on the solid Parts, I cast my Eye, Did vast scorcht Desarts spie; Which untamed Beasts, and Monsters bred, By them alone inhabited, I saw huge Mountains of uncommon Earth, Some belcht with Terror forth; A sulpherous Smoak, Loud as amazing Thunder spoke, From the unexhausted Bowels came, Ashes and Stones, evacuated by Flame; Remote from these are frigid Mountains too; Thick cloth'd in fleecy Snow. Some by restringent Air congeal'd as hard, As if with Adamantine barr'd: Stupendious Rocks of hideous Stones I found, Whose dangerous Heads, lean'd o're the threaten'd Ground. Deep in Earths center, far from human sight, I search'd with intellectual Light; (Pierc'd to the gloomy Ray, Where subterrenean Fires, in silence play, Like the faint Glimps of an imprison'd Day.) Where unmolested Streams with gentle force, Press, to their Primeveal source; And sometimes upward, gush thro' poreous Earth, Give to the healing Baths, a useful Birth;) In its more wealthy parts, the Minerals lay, And ponderous Mettals, shining Nerves display: In her bright Bowels, radient Gems remains, Till cruel Man dissects, and rends her Saphir vains. With Grief and Wonder I behold, The Noble, but mischevious Gold; Oh! with what Toil, and mighty Pain, Men the inchanting Mettle gain. This Tyrant Clay Lords it o'er human kind, Tho' they themselves in dirt, at first the Monarch find; Lets their Stupidity, no more upbraid, Who worshipp'd Gods, which their own Hands had made, Since we're by Gold to greater Crimes betray'd. Our Country, Faith, Friends, Honour for its sold, Nay, Heaven and Love, is sacrafic'd to Gold; We're worse Idolaters, than they, Who only Homage gave; since we mischeviously obey. V. Then the habitable World appear'd, By Art, vast Towns and pompous Temples fear'd The pleasing Fields, awhile detain'd my sight With a serene delight: The flowry Meads, with various Colours dy'd, And smiling Nature, in her verdant Pride; Here ancient Woods, and blooming Groves, (Fit recesses, for celestial Loves,) Where purling Streams, glide with delightful hast, On whose cool Banks, are spreading Willows plac'd: The chearful Birds sing on the shading Bough, In such glad Notes, as Nature did bestow. The bleating Flocks and Herds, o'erspread the Plains, And recompence the joyful Peasants pains. Here the unenvy'd Village stood, Rais'd of native Clay, and neighbouring Wood. The Inhabitants as void of Pride, or Art, Blest with plain Diet, and an honest Heart; These Plow'd the Ground, and Sow'd the pregnant Grain, Reap'd joyfully; the plentious Crop again: Innocent Slaves, to whose rude Care we owe, The chief supports of Life, and utmost needs below. Remoter helps are Springs to Luxury, Rich Wines and Spices, and the Tyrian die, Do not our Wants, but Wantonness supply. Here in his humble Cott, the Rustick lies, Knows not the Curse, of being Great or Wise; Ambition, Treachery, and Fear, Are Strangers here. Secure and quiet they go plodding on, Happy, because too mean to be undone. VI. Then I espy'd from far, Troops of shining Men, ingag'd in War, Their artful Weapons, are with Rage imploy'd, And Man, by Man, is Savagely destroy'd: Poor mercenary Slaves they die, But seldom know for why; Oh! what Confusions here I cannot bear, These horrid Groans that reach my distant Ear From slaugher'd heaps, of dying Accents there. Sometimes wast Towns in Flames appear, Huge Castles mount, and shatter in the Air, But ah! what pity 'tis, Mankind should Glory in such Arts as these; Then to the populous Cities, I repair'd, Found they were little less insnar'd; Tho' not Alarm'd with mighty noise of Wars, Yet curs'd with grating, private Jars, Envy and Strife, Self-Interest, and Deceits, Extravagance and Noise, her Fate compleats. Then I survey'd the splendid Court, Found pageant Follies, Revelling and Sport, Base Falshood, Lust, Ambition, Emnity, Soft wanton Intervals, and Luxury, Destructive Flattery, and hateful Pride, And all the City Sins beside. Thinks I, what shall I do, If I must live again below, For I remember'd that I had been there, And a return to Earth, did fear. Grant ye bless'd Powers, said I, If I must downwards fly; I may Descend upon the blooming Plain, Bless'd with the harmless Nymph, and humble Swain, There let me ever undisturb'd remain.