To call man mortal. Man's mortality
Was then transferr'd to death; and heav'n's duration
Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame,
This child of dust.---Man, all-immortal, hail!
Hail, Heav'n! all lavish of strange gifts to man!
Thine all the glory, man's the boundless bliss.
Where am I wrapt by this triumphant theme,
On Christian joy's exulting wing, above
Th' Aonian mount! Alas! small cause for joy!
What if to pain immortal? if extent
Of being, to preclude a close of wo?
Where, then, my boast of immortality?
I boast it still, tho' cover'd o'er with guilt:
For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd;
'Tis guilt alone can justify his death;
Nor that, unless his death can justify
Relenting guilt in Heav'n's indulgent sight.
If, sick of folly, I relent, he writes
My name in heav'n with that inverted spear (A spear deep-dipt in blood) which pierc'd his side, And open'd there a font for all mankind,
Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink and live: This, only this, subdues the fear of death.
And what is this? Survey the wondrous cure, And at each step let higher wonder rise! "Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon
"Thro' means that speak it's value infinite!
"A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine!
"With blood divine of him I made my foe!
"Persisted to provoke! tho' woo'd and aw'd;
"Blest, and chastis'd, a flagrant rebel still!
"A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne!
"Nor I alone a rebel universe!
re My species up in arms! not one exempt!
"Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies,
"Most joy'd for the redeem'd of deepest guilt!
"As if our race were held of highest rank,
"And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!"
Bound ev'ry heart! and ev'ry bosom burn!
O what a scale of miracles is here?
Its lowest round high planted on the skies,
Its tow'ring summit lost beyond the thought
Of man or angel! Oh that I could climb
The wonderful ascent with equal praise!
Praise! flow for ever, (if astonishment
Will give thee leave) my praise! for ever flow; 349
Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high heav'n
More fragrant than Arabia sacrific'd,
And all her spicy mountains in a flame.
So dear, so due to Heav'n, shall Praise descend
With her soft plume (from plausive angels' wing
First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears,
Thus diving in the pockets of the great?
Is prai e the perquisite of ev'ry paw,
Tho' black as hell, that grapples well for gold?
Oh love of gold! thou me: nest of amours!
Shall Praise her odours waste on virtues dead,
Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt,
Earn dirty bread by washing Ethiops fair,
Removing filth, or sinking it from sight,
A scavenger in scenes where vacant posts,
Like gibbets yet untenanted, expect
Their future ornaments? from courts and thrones
Return, apostate Praise ! thou vagabond!
Thou prostitute ! to the first love return,
Thy first, thy greatest, once unrivall'd theme.
There flow redundant, like Meander flow,
Back to thy fountain, to that parent pow'r
Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar,
The soul to be. Men homage pay to men,
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow,
In mutual awe profound, of clay to clay,
Of guilt to guilt, and turn their backs on thee,
Great Sire! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing,
To prostrate angels an amazing scene!
O the presumption of man's awe for man !---
Man's Author! End! Restorer! Law! and Judge!
Thine all; Day thine, and thine this gloom of Night,
With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds.
What night eternal but a frown from thee?
What heav'n's meridian glory but thy smile?
And shall not praise be thine, not human praise,
While heav'n's high host on hallelujahs live?
O may I breathe no longer than I breathe
My soul in praise to him who gave my soul,
And all her infinite of prospect fair,
Cut thro' the shades of hell, great Love! by thee,
Oh most adorable! most unadorn'd!
Where shall that praise begin which ne'er should end? Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause!
How is Night's sable mantle labour'd o'er,
How richly wrought with attributes divine!
What wisdom shines! what love! This midnight pomp,
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid!
Built with divine ambition! nought to thee;
For others this profusion. Thou apart,
Above! beyond! Oh tell me, mighty Mind!
Where art thou? Shall I dive into the deep?
Call to the sun? or ask the roaring winds
For their Creator? shall I question loud
The thunder, if in that th' Almighty dwells?
Or holds he furious storms in straiten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?
What mean these questions?---Trembling I retract;
My prostrate soul adores the present God.
Praise I a distant Deity? He tunes
My voice (if tun'd;) the nerve that writes sustains:
W rapp'd in his being I resound his praise:
But tho' past all diffus'd, without a shore
His essence, local is his throne (as meet)
To gather the dispers'd (as standards call
The listed from afar ;) to fix a point.
A central point, collective of his sons,
Since finite ev'ry nature but his own.
The nameless He, whose nod is Nature's birth, And Nature's shield the shadow of his hand;
Her dissolution his suspended smile!
The great First-Last? pavilion'd high he sits
In darkness, from excessive splendour borne,
By gods unseen, unless thro' lustre lost,
His glory, to created glory, bright,
As that to central horrours: he looks down
On all that soars, and spans immensity.
Tho' night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view,
Boundless Creation! what art thou? a beam,
A mere effluvium of his majesty,
And shall an atom of this atom-world
Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of heav'n?
Down to the centre should I send my thought
Thro' beds of glitt'ring ore and glowing gems,
Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness: if, on tow'ring wing,
I sent it thro' the boundless vault of stars,
(The stars, tho' rich, what dross their gold to thee,
Great! good! wise! wonderful! eternal King!)
If to those conscious stars thy throne around,
Praise ever-pouring, and imbibing biiss,
And ask their strain; they want it, more they want, Poor their abundance, humble their sublime,
Languid their energy, their ardour cold;
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