High tho' we mount, the object mounts more high,
Eludes our grafp, and mingles with the sky.
With nothing lefs th' afpiring foul's content,

For nothing less her gen'rous flame was meant ;
Th' unerring rule, which all our steps should guide,
The certain teft, by which true good is try'd.
Bleft when we reach it, wretched while we miss,
Our joys, our forrows prove, there must be blifs.
Nor can this be fome vifionary dream,
Where heated fancy forms the flatt'ring fcheme.
There fure is blifs-elfe, why by all defir'd?
What guileful pow'r has the mad fearch infpir'd?
Could accident produce in all the fame,

Or a vain fhadow raise a real flame ?

;

When nature in the world's diftended space,
Or fill'd, or almoft fill'd, each smaller place;
Careful in meaneft matter to produce
Each fingle motion for fome certain ufe
Hard was the lot of her first favʼrite, man,
Faulty the scheme of his contracted span,
If that alone must know an ufelefs void,
And he feel longings ne'er to be enjoy'd.

That only can produce confummate joy,
Which equals all the pow'rs it would employ;
Such fitting object to each talent giv❜n,
Earth cannot fit what was defign'd for heav'n.
Why then is man with gifts fublimeft fraught,
And active will, and comprehenfive thought?

For what is all this wafte of mental force?
What! for a houfe, a coach, a dog, a horse?
Has nature's lord inverted nature's plan ?

Is man now made for what was made for man?
There must be pleasures paft the reach of fenfe,
Some nobler fource muft happiness dispense :
Reafon, arife! and vindicate thy claim,
Flash on our minds the joy-infufing flame ;
Pour forth the fount of light, whose endless store
Thought drinks infatiate, while it thirsts for more.
And thou, feraphick flame! who could'ft infpire
The prophet's voice, and wrap his foul in fire;
Ray of th' eternal beam! who canft pervade
The diftant paft, and future's gloomy fhade;
While trembling reason tempts heav'n's dazzling height,
Sublime her force, and guide her dubious flight;
Strengthen'd by thee, she bears the streaming blaze,
And drinks new light from truth's immortal rays.
Great, only evidence of things divine!

By thee reveal'd, the myftick wonders fhine!
What puzzled fophists vainly would explore,

What humbled pride in filence must adore,
What plainly mark'd in heav'n's deliver'd page,
Makes the taught hind more wife than Greece's fage.
Yet reafon proves thee in her low degree,
And owns thy truths, from their neceffity.

Confpicuous now is happiness display'd,
Poffeffing him for whom alone we're made.

For

For he alone all human blifs compleats,
To him alone th' expanding bofom beats;
Who fills each faculty, each pow'r can move,
Exerts all thought, and deep abforbs all love;
Whose ceaseless being years would tell in vain,
Whose attributes immenfe all bounds difdain.
No fickly tastes the heav'nly rapture cloys,

No weary'd fenfes fink in whelming joys ;
While, rais'd above low matter's groffer frame,
Pure spirit blazes in his purer
flame.

Such are th' immortal bleffings that attend
The juft and good, the patriot and the friend.
Nor fuch alone in diftant prospect chear,
They tafte heav'n's joys anticipated here.
These in the smiling cup of pleasure flow,
Or, mingling, footh the bitter ftream of woe;
These pay the lofs of honours, and of place,
And teach that guilt alone is true difgrace;
These with the glorious exile chearful rove,
And, far from courts, fresh bloom in Curio's grove.
Long may fuch blifs, by fuch enjoy'd, atteft,
The greatly virtuous are the greatly bleft!
Enough there are amidft yon gorgeous train,
Who, wretched, prove all other joys are vain.
So fhines the truth these humble lines unfold.
"Fair virtue ever is unwifely fold."

Too mean a price fublimeft fortune brings,

Too mean the wealth, the fmiles, the crowns of kings:

Far other ornaments compose
The garb that shrouds diffembled woes,
Piec'd out with motley dies and forts,
Freaks, whimsies, feftivals, and sports ;
The troubled mind's fantastick dress,
Which madnefs titles happinefs.
While the gay wretch to revels bears
The pale remains of fighs and tears ;
And feeks in crowds, like her undone,
What only can be found in one.

But, chief, my gentle friend! remove
Far from thy couch feducing love!
O! fhun the falfe magician's art,
Nor truft thy yet unguarded heart!
Charm'd by his fpells fair honour flies,
And thousand treach'rous phantoms rise:
Where guilt in beauty's ray beguiles,
And ruin lurks in friendfhip's fmiles.
Lo! where th' enchanted captive dreams
Of warbling groves, and purling streams;
Of painted meads, of flowers that shed
Their odours round her fragrant bed.
Quick fhifts the scene, the charm is loft,
She wakes upon a desert coast!

No friendly hand to lend its aid,

No guardian bow'r to spread its fhade;
Expos'd to ev'ry chilling blast,
She treads th' inhofpitable wafte;

And

And down the drear decline of life,
Sinks a forlorn, difhonour'd wife.

Neglect not thou the voice of Fame,
But clear from crime, be free from blame!
Tho' all were innocence within,
'Tis guilt to wear the garb of fin.
Virtue rejects the foul disguise:
None merit praise who praise despise.
Slight not, in fupercilious firain,
Long practis'd modes, as low or vain!
The world will vindicate their cause,
And claim blind faith in cuftom's laws.
Safer with multitudes to ftray,
Than tread alone a fairer way;
To mingle with the erring throng,
Than boldly speak ten millions wrong.
Beware of the relentlefs train

Who forms adore, whom forms maintain !
Left prudes demure, or coxcombs loud,
Accuse thee to the partial crowd;
Foes who the laws of honour flight,
A judge who meafures guilt by fpite.
Behold the fage Aurelia stand,
Difgrace and fame at her command!
As if heaven's delegate design'd,
Sole arbiter of all her kind.
Whether fhe try fome favour'd piece,
By rules devis'd in ancient Greece ;

Or