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Contents of the Seventh Night.

TN the Sixth Night Arguments were drttrwn from Na-
Ture, in Proof of Immortality. Here, ethers art'

drawn from Man: From his Discontent, /. 142; from hit

Passions and Powers, 143 ; from the gradual Growth of

Reason, ibid; from his Fear of Death, ibid; from tht-

Nature of Hope, 144; and of Virtue, 145, &c. from

Knowledge and Love, as Being the most essential Properties of

the Soul, 148; from the Order of Creation, 149 ; from the

Nature of Ambition, 150, &c. Avarice, 153, 154; Plea-

sure, 154. A Digresjion on the Grandeur of the Passions,

155, 156. Immortality alone renders our present State intel-

ligible, 157. An Objection from the Stoics DisbeliefofIm-
mortality, answered, 157, 158. Endless Questions unrefohi-
abh, hut on Supposition of our Immortality, 158, 159. Tbt
natural, most melancholy, and pathetic Complaint of a Worthy
Man under the Persuasion of no Futurity,. 160, &c. The gross
Absurdities and Horrors ^Annihilation urg'd home Lo-
Renzo, 164, &c. The SouPs <vast Importance, 169, &c.

from 'whence it arises, 172, 173. The Difficulty ofbeingan

Infidel, 174. The Infamy, ibid, the Cause, 175. andtheChz-

xacter,i75, 176,0s an Infidel State. What True Free-think-

'"g's> '76, 177. The necessary Punishment of the False,

J 78. Man's Ruin is from Himself, ibid. An Infidel accuses

himself of Guilt, and Hypocrisy; and that of the <wcrst

Sort, 179. His Obligations to Christians, ibid. What Dan-

ger he incurs by Virtue, 180. Vice recommended to Him,

181. His high Pretences to Virtue, and Benevolence, ex-

ploded, ibid. The Conclusion, on the Nature of Faith, ibid.

Reason, 182; and Hope, 182, 183; <with an Apology for

this Attempt, 183.

HEAV'N gives the needsul, but neglected, Call.
What Day, what Hour, but knocks at human.
To wake the Soul to Sense of future Scenes? [Hearts,
Deaths stand, like Mercurys, in ev'ry Way;
And kindly point us to our Journey's End.
Pope, who couldst make Immortals! art Thou dead?
I give thee Joy: Nor will I take my Leave;
So soon to follow. Man but dives in Death;
Dives from the Sun, in fairer Day to rise;
The Grave, his subterranean Road to Bliss.
Yes, insinite Indulgence plann'd it so;
Thro' various Parts our glorious Story runs;
lime gives the Preface, endless Age unrolls
The Volume (ne'er unroll'd) of human Fate.

This, Earth and Sktes * already have proclaim'd.
The World's a Prophecy of Worlds to come;
And who, what God foretels (who speaks in Things;
Still louder than ia Words) shall dare deny?
If Nature's Arguments appear too weak,
Turn a new Leaf, and stronger read in Man.
If Man sleeps on, untaught by what hejies,
Can he prove Insidel to wHat he feels?
He, whose blind Thought Futurity denies,
Unconscious bears, Bellerophon! like thee,
His own Indictment; he condemns himself;
Who reads his Bosom, reads immortal Lise;
Or, Nature, there, imposing on her Sons,
Has written Fables; Man was made a Lje.

• Night the Sixth.

Wty

Why Discontent for ever harbour'd there?
,: Incurable Consumption of our Peace!
. Resolve me, why, the Cottager, and King,
He whom Sea-sever'd Realms obey, and he
Who steals his whole Dominion from the Waste,
Repelling Winter Blasts with Mud and Straw,
Disquieted alike, draw Sigh for Sigh,
In Fate so distant, in Complaint so near?

Is it, that Things Terrestrial can't content?
Deep in rich Pasture, will thy Flocks complain?
Not so; but to their Master is deny'd
To share their sweet Serene. Man, ill at Ease,
In this, not his oiun Place, this foreign Field,'
Where Nature fodders him with other Food,
Than was crfdain'd his Cravings to suffice,
Poor in Abundance, famish'd at a Feast,
Sighs on for something more, when most enjoy'd.
Is Heav'n then kinder to thy Flocks than Thee?
Not so; thy Pasture richer, but remote;
In part, remote; for that remoter Part
Man bleats from Instinct, tfoo', perhaps, debauch'd
By Sense, his Reason sleeps, nor dreams the Cause.
The Cause how obvious, when his Reason wakes!
His Grief is but his Grandeur in Disguise;
And Discontent is Immortality.

Shall Sons of Æther, shall the Blood of Heav'n,
Set up their Hopes on Earth, and stable here,
With brutal Acquiescence in the Mire?
Lorenzo! no! they shall be nobly pain'd;
The glorious Foreigners, distrest, shall sigh
On Thrones; and Thou congratulate the Sigh:
Man's Misery declares him born for Bliss;
His anxious Heart asserts the Truth I sing,
And gives the Sceptic in his Head the Lye.

Our

Our Heads, 'our Hearts, our Pasterns, and our Penvers, Speak the fame Language; call us to the Skies; Unripen'd These in this inclement Clime,. Scarce rise above Conjecture, and Mistake; __, And for this Land of Trifles Those too strong Tumultuous rise, and tempest human Lise: What Prize on Earth can pay us for the Storm? Meet Objectsfor our Passions Heav'n ordain'd, Objects that challenge all their Fire, and leave No Fault, but in Desect: Blest Heav'n! avert A bounded Ardor for unbounded Blifs; O for a Blifs unbounded! Far beneath A Soul immortal, is a mortal Joy. Nor are oui. Pciv'rs to perish immature; But, after seeble Esfort here, beneath A brighter Sun, and in a nobler Soil, !. •' Transplanted from this sublunary Bed; Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their Bloom.

Reason progressive, Instini l is complete;
Swift Insiina leaps; slow Reason seebly climbs.
Brutes soon their Zenith reach; their little All -
Flows in at once; in Ages they no more
Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy.
Were Man to live coeval with the Sun,
The Patriarch Pupil would be learning still;
Yet, dying, leave his Lesson half-unlearnt. .
Men perish in Advance, as if the Sun
Should set ere Noon, in Eastern Oceans drown'd;
If fit, with Dim, Illustrious to compare,
The. Sun's Meridian, with the Soul of Man.
To Man; why, Stepdame Nature! so severe?
Why thrown afide thy Master-piece half-wrought,
While meaner Efforts thy last Hand enjoy? . ..

Or, if abortively poor Man must die,
Nor reach, what reach he might, why die in Dread?

Why

Why curst with Forefight s Wife to Mifery?
Why of his proud Prerogative the Prey?
Why less pre-eminent in Rank, than Pain i
His Immortality alone can tell;
Full ample Fund to balance all amifs,
And turn the Scale in Favour of the Just!

His Immortality alone can solve
That darkest of Ænigmas, human L'epe;
Of all the darkest, if at Death we die.
Hope, eager Hope, th'Assassin of our Joy,
All present Blessings treading under-foot,
Is scarce a milder Tyrant than Despair.
With no past Toils content, still planning new,
Hope turns us o'er to Death alone for Ease.
Possession, why, more tasteless than Pursuit?
Why is a Wish far dearer than a Crown?
That Wish accomplish'd, why, the Grave of Blifs?
Because, in the great Future bury'd deep,
Beyond our Plans of Empire, and Renown,
Lies all that Man with Ardor should pursue;
And H E who made him, bent him to the Right.
Man's Heart th' Almighty to the Future sets,
By secret and.inviolable Springs ;.
And makes his Hope his sublunary Joy.
Man's Heart eats all Things, and is hungry still;
"More, more !" the Glutton cries: For something AVt*
So rages Appetite, if Man can't Mount,
He will Descend. He starves on the Posses}.
Hence, the World's Master, from Ambition's Spire,
In Caprea plung'd; and div'd beneath the Brute.
In that rank Sty why wallow'd Empire's Son
Supreme s Because he could no higher fly;
His Riot was Ambition in Despair.

Old Rome consulted Birds; Lorenzo! thou, With more Success, the Flight of Hope survey j

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