Слике страница
PDF
ePub

The Gentlemen, for whofe Sake this Attempt was chiefly made, profefs great Admiration for the Wisdom of Heathen Antiquity: What Pity'tis, they are not fincere! If they were fincere, how would it mortify them to confider, with what Contempt, and Abhorrence, their Notions would have been received, by Those whom they so much admire? What Degree of Contempt, and Abhorrence, would fall to their Share, may be conjectured by the following Matter of Fact (in my Opinion) extremely memorable. Of all their Heathen Worthies, Socrates ('tis well known) was the most Guarded, Difpaffionate, and Compofed: Yet this great Mafter of Temper was angry; and angry at his Laft Hour; and angry with bis Friend; and angry for what deferved Acknowlegement ; angry, for a right and tender Inftance of true Friendship towards Him. Is not this furprifing? What could be the Caufe? The Caufe was for his Honour ; it was a truly noble, tho', perhaps, a too punctilious, Regard for Immortality : For his Friend afking him, with such an affectionate Goncern as became a Friend, Where he fould depofit his Remains ?" it was refented by Socrates, as implying a dishonourable Suppofition, that He could be fo mean, as to have Regard for any thing, even in Himself, that was not IMMORTAL.

66

This Fact well confider'd, would make our Infidels withdraw their Admiration from Socrates; or make them endeavour, by their Imitation of this Illuftrious Example, ta hare his Glory: And, confequently, It would incline them to perufe the following Pages with Candor and Impartiality : Which is all I defire; and that, for their Sakes: For I am perfuaded, that an Unprejudiced Infidel muft, neceffarily, receive fome advantageous Impreffions from them.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

CONTENTS of the Seventh Night.

IN

N the Sixth Night Arguments were drawn from NA-
TURE, in Proof of Immortality. Here, others are

drawn from MAN From his Difcontent, p. 141; from his

Paffions and Powers, 142; from the gradual Growth of

Reason, ibid; from his Fear of Death, ibid; from the

Nature of Hope, 143; and of Virtue, 144, &c. from

Knowlege and Love, as being the most effential Properties of

the Soul, 147; from the Order of Creation, 148; from the

Nature of Ambition, 149, &c. Avarice, 152, 153; Plea-

fure, 153. A Digreffion on the Grandeur of the Paffions,

154, 155. Immortality alone renders our prefent State intel.

ligible, 156. An Objection from the Stoics Disbelief of Im-
mortality, anfwered, 156, 157. Endless Questions unresol·v-
able, but on Suppofition of our Immortality, 157, 158. The
natural, moft melancholy, and pathetic Complaint of a Worthy
Man under the Perfuafion of no Futurity, 159, &c. The grofs
Abfurdities and Horrors of Annihilation urg'd home on Lo-
RENZO, 163, &c, The Soul's vaft Importance, 168, &c.

from whence it arifes, 171, 172. The Difficulty of being an

Infidel, 173. The Infamy, ibid. the Caufe, 174. and the Cha-

racter, 174, 175, of an Infidel State. What True Free-think-

ing is, 175, 176. The neceffary Punishment of the False,

177. Man's Ruin is from Himself, ibid. An Infidel accufes

himself of Guilt, and Hypocrify ; and that of the worst

Sort, 178. His Obligations to Chriftians, ibid. What Dan-

he incurs by Virtue, 179. Vice recommended to Him,

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

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

Reason, 181; and Hope, 181, 182; with an Apology for

this Attempt, 182.

EAV'N gives the needful, but neglected, Call.

To wake the Soul to Senfe of future Scenes? [Hearts, Deaths ftand, like Mercurys, in ev'ry Way;

And kindly point us to our Journey's End.

POPE, who couldft make Immortals! art Thou dead P
I give thee Joy: Nor will I take my Leave;
So foon to follow. Man but dives in Death;
Dives from the Sun, in fairer Day to rife;
The Grave, his fubterranean Road to Blifs.
Yes, infinite Indulgence plann'd it fo;

Thro' various Parts our glorious Story runs ;
Time gives the Preface, endless Age unrolls.
The Volume (ne'er unroll'd) of human Fate.
This, Earth and Skies already have proclaim'd..
The World's a Prophecy of Worlds to come ;
And who, what GOD foretels (who fpeaks in Things,
Still louder than in Words) fhall dare deny ?
If Nature's Arguments appear too weak,
Turn a new Leaf, and ftronger read in Man.
If Man fleeps on, untaught by what he fees,
Can he prove Infidel 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 Life ;
Or, Nature, there, impofing on her Sons,
Has written Fables; Man was made a Lye.
* Night the Sixth.

Why

Why Difcontent for ever harbour'd there?
Incurable Confumption of our Peace!
Refolve me, why, the Cottager, and King,
He whom Sea-fever'd Realms obey, and he
Who steals his whole Dominion from the Wafte,
Repelling Winter Blafts with Mud and Straw,
Difquieted alike, draw Sigh for Sigh,

In Fate fo distant, in Complaint so near?

Is it, that Things Terreftrial can't content ?
Deep in rich Pafture, will thy Flocks complain?
Not fo; but to their Master is deny'd

To share their fweet Serene. Man, ill at Eafe,
In this, not his own Place, this foreign Field,
Where Nature fodders him with other Food,
Than was ordain'd his Cravings to fuffice,
Poor in Abundance, famish'd at a Feast,
Sighs on for fomething more, when most enjoy'd.
Is Heav'n then kinder to thy Flocks than Thee?
Not fo; thy Pafture richer, but remote ;

In part, remote; for that remoter Part

Man bleats from Instinct, tho', perhaps, debauch'd
By Senfe, his Reafon fleeps, nor dreams the Cause.
The Cause how obvious, when his Reason wakes!
His Grief is but his Grandeur in Disguise;
And Difcontent is Immortality.

Shall Sons of Æther, fhall the Blood of Heav'n,
Set up their Hopes on Earth, and ftable here,
With brutal Acquiefcence in the Mire?
LORENZO! no! they fhall be nobly pain'd;
The glorious Foreigners, diftreft, fhall figh
On Thrones; and Thou congratulate the Sigh:
Man's Mifery declares him born for Bliss;
His anxious Heart afferts the Truth I fing,
And gives the Sceptic in his Head the Lye.

OLE

Our Heads, our Hearts, our Paffions, and our Powers,
Speak the fame Language; call us to the Skies:
Unripen'd Thefe in this inclement Clime,
Scarce rife above Conjecture, and Mistake;
And for this Land of Trifles Those too ftrong
Tumultuous rife, and tempeft human Life :
What Prize on Earth can pay us for the Storm?
Meet Objects for our Paffions Heav'n ordain'd,
Objects that challenge all their Fire, and leave
No Fault, but in Defect: Bleft 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 our Pow'rs to perish immature;
But, after feeble Effort here, beneath
A brighter Sun, and in a nobler Soil,
Tranfplanted from this fublunary Bed,
Shall flourish fair, and put forth all their Bloom.
Reason progreffive, Inftin&t is complete;
Swift Inftinct leaps; flow Reason feebly climbs.
Brutes foon 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 coëval with the Sun,
The Patriarch-Pupil would be learning ftill;
Yet, dying, leave his Leffon half-unlearnt.

Men perish in Advance, as if the Sun

Should fet ere Noon, in Eaftern Oceans drown'd;.
If fit, with Dim, Illuftrious to compare,

The Sun's Meridian, with the Soul of Man.
To Man, why, Stepdame Nature! so severe ?
Why thrown afide thy Mafter-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

« ПретходнаНастави »