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The vanquish'd Fires withdraw from every Place,
Or full with feeding, sink into a Sleep;
Each household Genius shews again his Face,

And, from the Hearths, the little Lares creep.

Our King this more than natural Change beholds:
With sober Joy his Heart and Eyes abound:
To the All-good his lifted Hands he folds,

And thanks him low on his redeemed Ground.

As when sharp Frosts had long constrain'd the Earth,
A kindly Thaw unlocks it with cold Rain:
And first the tender Blade peeps up to Birth,

And straight the green Fields laugh with promis'd Grai

By such degrees the spreading Gladness grew

In every Heart, which Fear had froze before :
The standing Streets with so much Joy they view,
That with less Grief the Perish'd they deplore.

Not with more Constancy the Jews of old,
By Cyrus from rewarded Exile sent:
Their Royal City did in Dust behold,

Or with more Vigour to rebuild it went.

The utmost Malice of their Stars is past,

And two dire Comets which have scourg'd the Town, In their own Plague and Fire have breath'd their last : Or, dimly, in their sinking Sockets frown.

Now frequent Trines the happier Lights among.
And high-rais'd Jove from his dark Prison freed,
(Those Weights took off that on his Planet hung,)
Will gloriously the new-laid Works succeed.

Methinks already, from this Chymick Flame,
I see a City of more precious Mold:
Rich as the Town which gives the Indies Name,
With Silver pav'd, and all divine with Gold.

Already, labouring with a mighty Fate,

She shakes the Rubbish from her mounting Brow And seems to have renew'd her Charter's date. Which Heav'n wili to the Death of time allow.

More great than Human, now, and more August
New deified she from her Fires does rise :
Her widening Streets on new Foundations trust,
And, opening, into larger Parts she flies.

Before, she like some Shepherdess did shew,
Who fate to bathe her by a River's side:
Not answering to her Fame, but rude and low,
Nor taught the beauteous Arts of Modern Pride.

Now, like a Maiden Queen, she will behold,
From her high Turrets, hourly Suters come:
The East with Incense, and the West with Gold,
Will stand, like Suppliants, to receive her Doom.

The silver Thames, her own domestick Fiood,
Shall bear her Vessels, like a sweeping Train;
And often wind (as of his Mistress proud,)

With longing Eyes to meet her Face again.

The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine,
The Glory of their Towns no more shall boast:
And Sein, that would with Belgian Kivers join,
Shall find her Lustre stain'd, and Traffick lost.

The vent'rous Merchant, who design'd more far,
And touches on our hospitable Shore,
Charm'd with the Splendor of this Northern Star,
Shall here unlade him, and depart no more.

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VITAL spark of heavenly flame;

Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame:

Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying-
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.

What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
Oh grave! where is thy victory?

Oh death! where is thy sting?


AWAKE, my St. John! leave all meaner things
To low ambition and the pride of kings.
Let us (since life can little more supply
Than just to look about us, and to die)
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man
A mighty maze! but not without a plan :
A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit.
Together let us beat this ample field,
Try what the open, what the covert yield;
The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise:
Laugh where we must, be candid where we can,
But vindicate the ways of God to man.

I. Say, first, of God above, or man below,
What can we reason, but from what we know?
Of man, what see we but his station here,

From which to reason, or to which refer ?

Through worlds unnumber'd though the God be known, 'Tis ours to trace him only in our own.

He who through vast immensity can pierce,
See worlds on worlds compose one universe,-
Observe how system into system runs,
What other planets circle other suns,
What varied being peoples ev'ry star,

May tell why Heaven has made us as we are.

But of this frame, the bearings and the ties,
The strong connexions, nice dependencies,
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul

Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole ?
Is the great chain that draws all to agree,
And drawn supports, upheld by God or thee?

II. Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find,
Why form'd o weak, so little, and so blind?
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess,
Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no less?
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade?
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove?

Of systems possible, if 'tis confess'd
That wisdom infinite must form the best,
Where all must full or not coherent be,
And all that rises, rise in due degree;
Then, in the scale of reasoning life, 'tis plain,
There must be somewhere such a rank as man:
And all the question (wrangle ne'er so long)
Is only this, if God has plac'd him wrong?

Respecting man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.

In human works, though labour'd on with pain,
A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain :
In God's, one single can its end produce;
Yet serves to second, too, some other use.
So man, who here seems principal alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown,
Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal:
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

When the proud steed shall know why man restrains
Ilis fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains;
When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod,

Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god :

Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend
His actions', passions', being's, use and end;
Why doing, suff'ring, check'd, impell'd; and why
This hour a slave, the next a deity.

Then say not man's imperfect, Heaven in fault :
Say, rather, man's as perfect as be ought:
His knowledge measur'd to his state and place;
His time a moment, and a point his space.
If to be perfect in a certain sphere,
What matter, soon or late, or here or there?

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