And light th' Almighty's footsteps in the deep!
How fhall the bleffed day of our dif.harge
Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of fate,
And ftraiten its inextricable maze!
If inextinguishable thirft in man
To know; how rich, how full, our banquet THERE
There, not the Moral world alone unfolds;
The world Material, lately seen in fhades,
And, in those fhades, by fragments only feen,
And seen those fragments by the Lab'ring eye,
Unbroken, then, illuftrious, and entire,
Its ample sphere, its univerfal frame,
In full dimenfions, fwells to the furvey;
And enters, at one glance, the ravisht fight.
From fome fuperior point (where, who can tell?
Suffice it, 'tis a point where gods refide)
How fhall the ftranger man's illumin'd eye,
In the vaft ocean of unbounded space,
Behold an infinite of floating worlds
Divide the chryftal waves of ether pure,
In endless voyage, without port? the Leaft
Of these diffeminated orbs, how great?
Great as they are, what numbers these furpafs,
Huge, as Leviathan, to that small race,
Thofe twinkling multitudes of little life,
He swallows unperceiv'd! Stupendous these !
Yet what are these stupendous to the Whole?
As particles, as atoms, ill perceiv'd ;
As circulating globules in our veins;
So vaft the plan: fecundity divine!
Exub'rant fource; perhaps, I wrong thee ftill.
If admiration is a fource of joy,
What transport hence! yet this the leaft in heaven,
What THIS to that illuftrious robe HE wears
Who toft this mafs of wonders from his hand,
A fpecimen, an earnest, of his pow'r?
'Tis to That Glory, whence all Glory flows,
As the mead's meaneft flow'ret to the fun,
Which gave it birth. But what, this fun of heaven?
This blifs fupreme of the fupremely bleft?
Death, only death, the queftion can refolve.
By death, cheap bought th' ideas of our joy ;
The BARE ideas? folid happiness
So diftant from its shadow chac'd below.
And chace we ftil the phantom thro' the fire?
O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death;
And toil we ftill for fublunary pay?
Defy the dangers of the field, and flood,
Or, fpider-like, fpin out our precious all,
Our More than vitals fpin (if no regard
To great futurity) in curious webs
Of fubtile thought, and exquifite defign;
(Fine net-work of the brain!) to catch a fly?
The momentary buz of vain renown!
A Name! a mortal immortality!
Or (meaner ft 11!) inftead of grasping air,
For fordid Lucre plunge we in the mire?
Drudge, fweat, thro' ev'ry fhame, for ev'ry gain,
For vile contaminating trash; throw up
Our hope in heav'n, our dignity with man?
And deify the dirt, matur'd to gold?
Ambition, Av'rice, the two Demons, these
Which goad thro' ev'ry flough our human herd,
Hard-travel'd from the cradle to the grave.
How low the wretches ftoop! how fteep they climb!
These Demons burn mankind; but moft poffefs
Lorenzo's bɔfom, and turn out the fkies.
Is it in TIME to hide Eternity?
And why not in an atom on the fhore,
To cover ocean? or a mote, the fun?
Glory, and Wealth! have they this blinding pow'r?·
What if to THEM I prove Lorenzo blind?
Would it furprize thee? be thou then furpriz'd;
Thou neither know'ft: their nature learn from me.
Mark well, as foreign as These Subjects seem,
What clofe connection ties them to my theme..
Firft, what is TRUE ambition? The purfuit
Of glory, nothing LESS than man can share.
Were they as vain as gaudy-minded man,
As flatulent with fumes of felf-applaufe,
Their arts and conquefts Animals might boaft,
And claim their Laurel crowns, as well as we;
But not Celeftial. HERE we ftand ALONE;
As in our form, diftin&t, pre-eminent;
If PRONE in thought, our ftature is our shame.
And man should blush, his forhead meets the skies.
The Vifible and Prefent are for brutes,
A flender portion! and a narrow bound!
Thefe Reason, with an energy divine,
O'erleaps; and claims the Future and Unseen;
The vast unfeen! the future fathomlefs!
When the great foul buoys up to this high point,
Leaving grofs Nature's fediments below,
Then, and then only, Adam's offspring quits
The fage and hero of the fields and woods,
Afferts his rank, and rifes into man.
This is ambition: this is Human fire.
Can Parts or Place (two bold pretenders) make
Lorenzo great, and pluck him from the throng?
Genius and Art, ambition's boafted wings,
Our boaft but ill deferve.. A feeble aid!
Dedalian engin'ry! If these alone
Affift our flight, Same's flight is Glory's fall.
Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high,
Our height is but the gibbet of our name.
A celebrated wretch when I behold,
When I behold a genius bright, and base,
Of tow'ring talents, terrestrial aims ;*
Methinks I fee, as thrown from her high fphore,
The glorious fragments of a foul immortal,
With rubbish mixt, and glitt'ring in the duft;
Struck at the fplendid, melancholy fight,
At once Compaffion foft, and ENVY, rife.
But wherefore envy? talents angel-bright,
If wanting worth, are shining inftruments
In falfe ambition's hand, to finish faults
Illuftrious, and give infamy renown.
Great ILL is an atchievment of great Powr's.
Plain fenfe but rarely leads us far aftray.
Reason the means, Affections chufe our end;
Means have no merit, if our end amifs,
If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain;
What is a Pelham's head, to Pelham's heart?
Heart's are proprietors of all applause.
Right ends, AND means, make wisdom: worldly wife
Is but HALF-witted, at its highest praise.
Let Genius then despair to make thee great ;
Nor flatter Station: what is ftation hi;h?
'Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs:
It begs an alms of homage from the throng,
And oft the throng denies it charity.
Monarchs, and minifters, are awful names. ;`
Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir.
Religion, public order, both exact
External homage, and a fupple knee,
To beings pompously fet up, to ferve
The meanest flave: ALL MORE is merit's due,
Her facred and inviolable right;
Nor ever paid the Monarch, but the MAN.
Our hearts ne'er bow but to fuperior Worth;
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there.
Fools, indeed, drop the MAN in their account,
And vote the Mantle into majesty
Let the Small Savage boaft his filver fur ;
His royal robe unborrow'd, and unbought ;
His own, defcending fairly from his fires.
Shall man be proud to wear His livery,
And fouls in ERMIN fcorn a foul without
Can PLACE or Jeffen us, or aggrandize?
Pygmies are pygmies ftill, tho' percht on Alps;
And pyramids are pyramids in vales.
Each man makes his own ftature, builds himself:
Virtue alone out builds the Pyramids;
Her monuments fhall laft, when Egypt's fall.
Of these fure truths doft thou demand the caufe? The cafue is lodg'd in Immortality.
Hear, and affent. Thy bofom burns for pow'r ;
What ftation charms thee? I'll inftall thee there;
'Tis thine. And art thou greater than Before?
Then thou before waft fomething LESS than man.
Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride?
That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity;
That pride defames humanity, and calls
The being mean, which Stafs or Strings can raife;
That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness foars,
From blindnefs bold and tow'ring to the skies.
'Tis born of Ignorance, which knows not man
An angel's fecond; nor his fecond song.
A Nero qutting his imperial throne,
And courting glory from the tinkling string,
But faintly fhadows an immortal foul,
With empire's felf, to pride, or rapture, fir'd.
If nobler motives minifter no cure,
Ev'n vanity forbids thee to be vain
High worth is elevated place: 'tis more:
It makes the poft ftand candidate for thee,
Makes more than monarch's, makes an honest man;
Tho' no Exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth;
And tho' it wears no Ribbon, is renown;
Renown, that would not quit thee, tho' difgrac'd,
Nor leave the pendant on a master's smile.
Other ambition Nature interdicts?
Nature proc'aims it most abfurd in man,
By pointing at his origin, and end;
Milk, and a fwathe, at FIRST, his whole demand';
His whole domain, AT LAST, a turf, or ftone;
To whom. Between, a world may feem too fmall.
Souls TRULY great dart toreward on the wing
Of JUST ambition, to the grand refult,
The curtains fall; THERE, fee the bufkin'd chief
Unthod behind this momentary scene;
Reduc'd to his own ftature, low or high,
As vice, or virtue, finks him, or fublimes;
And laugh at this fantastic mummery,
This antic prelude of grotefque events,
Where dwarfs are often ftilted, ad betray
A littleness of foul by worlds o'er-run,
And nations laid in blood. Dread facrifice
To Chriftiain pride! which had with horror shockt
The Darkest Pagans, offer'd to their gods.
O thou Moft Chriftian enemy to peace!
Again in arms? again provoking fate?
That Prince, and that alone, is truly great,
Who draws the fword reluctant, gladly fheathes ;
On empire builds what empire far outweighs,
And makes his throne a fcaffold to the skies.
Why THIS fo rare ? because forgot of all
The day of death; that venerable day,
Which fits as judge; that day, which thall pronounce On all our days, abfolve them or condema.
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