"You know, Night brings back my "Day-I am not blind in my Dreams." I wish I knew the Distinction between Temperament and Genius: how far Father's even Frame is attributable to one or t'other. If to the former, why, we might hope to attain it as well as he ;-yet, no; this is equallie the Gift of God's Grace. Our Humours we may controwl, but our Temperament is born with us; and if one should fay, "Why are you a Veffel of "glorious things, while I am a Vessel "of Things weak and vile?"-nay, but oh! Man or Woman, who art thou 1665. 1665. thou that queftioneft the Will of 66 Father, indeed, can flame out in political Controversy, and lay about him as with a Flail, right and left, making the Chaff, and fometimes the Wheat too, fly about his Ears. 'Twas while threshing the Wheat by the Wine-press at Ophrah, that Gideon was called by the Angel; and methinks Father hath in like Manner been fummoned from the Floor of his Threshing, to discourse of Heaven and Earth, and bring forth from his Mind's Storehouse Things new and old. I wonder if the World will ever give heed to his Teaching. Suppose a Spark of Fire should drop fome Night on the Manufcript, while Ellwood is dozing over it;— why, there's an end on't. I suppose Father could never do it over again. I wonder how many fine Things have been loft in fuchlike Ways; or whether God ever permitts a truly fine Thing to be utterly loft. We may drop a Diamond into the Sea; but there it is, at the Bottom of the Great Deep. Juftinian's Pandects turned 1665. 1665. turned up again. The Art of making Glafs was loft once. The Paffage round the Cape was made and forgotten. -If I pore over this, I shall puzzle my Head. Howbeit, were I to round the Cape, I should hardly look for stranger and more glorious Scenes than Father hath in his Poem made familiar to me. He hath done more for me than Columbus for Queen Isabel-hath revealed to me a far better New World. Now, I fcarce ever look on the fetting Sun, furrounded by Hues more gorgeous than those of the High-priest's Breaft-plate, without picturing the Angel of the Sun feated on that bright Beam which bore him, Slope downward, beneath the Azores. And, in the less brilliant Hour, I, by Faith or Fancy, difcern Ithuriel and Zephon in the Shade; and by their Side a third, of regal Port, but faded Splendour wan. A little later ftill, can fometimes hear the Voice of God, or, as I fuppofe, we might fay, the Word of God, walking in the Garden. Pneuma! His Breath! His Spirit! How hushed and ftill! Then, the Night cometh, when no Man can work—when the young Lions, in tropical Climes, waking from their Day-fleep, seek their Meat from God. Albeit they may prowl about 1665. the |