Then turn thee where his Arms embrace

The vast Immensity of Space;

Thither expand thee all abroad,

And mark the Image of thy God.

Haste, ardent and unwearied haste,

And Worlds and Worlds behind thee cast:
Wide through the Void æthereal stray;
Away, my Soul; and yet away.

But fee how Skies fucceed to Skies!
See Prospect after Prospect rife!
Still, ftill they rife, and still extend,
Fatigue the Ken, and never end!

Ah, fond eluded Soul! who fhows

Whence underiv'd Duration flows?

What Mind conceives, what Tongue repeats,
Where infinite Expansion fets?

Yet urge thy Aim; and try to scan,

How Man is God, and God is Man!
With Reason's Eye prepare to see,

How Three are One, and One is Three!

The mighty Mysteries invade,

Call Art and Nature to thy Aid;

Range all the Stores thou draw'st from Sense,

And form the grand Solution thence.

But here again, bewilder'd, loft

Are all th' Ideas thou canst boast:

Th' unequal Task is too fublime;

"Tis boundless Space! 'tis birthlefs Time!

How God exifts, and what He is,

His own Omniscience only fees!

Defift, my Soul, and dare no more;

"Tis thine to wonder and adore.

SONG

SONG.

I.

HAT Man, in his Wits, had not rather

WH

[be poor,

Than for Lucre his Freedom to give?

Ever busy the Means of his Life to secure,

And fo ever neglecting to live.

II.

Inviron'd from Morning to Night in a Crowd,
Not a Moment unbent, or alone :

Constrain'd to be abject, tho' never so proud,
And at every one's Call, but his own.

III.

Still repining, and longing for Quiet each Hour, Yet ftudiously flying it still;

With the Means of enjoying his Wish in his Pow'r, But accurft with his wanting the Will

IV.

For a Year must be paft, or a Day must be come,

Before he has Leifure to rest:

He must add to his Store this or that pretty Sum; And then will have Time to be bleft.

V.

But his Gains, more bewitching the more they inOnly fwell the Defire of his Eye:

[crease,

Such a Wretch let mine Enemy live, if he please;

Let not even mine Enemy die.

H

ERE lyes the Lyrick, who with Tale and

[Song,

Did Life to threefcore Years and ten pro[long:

His Tale was pleasant, and his Song was sweet; His Heart was chearful- but his Thirst was great, Grieve, Reader, grieve, that he, too foon grown old, His Song has ended, and his Tale has told.

The

O

The DECANTE R.

From the Greek,

Thou, that high thy Head doft bear,

With round, smooth Neck, and fingle Ear;

With well-turn'd, narrow Mouth, from whence
Flow Streams of nobleft Eloquence:

"Tis Thou that fir'ft the Bard Divine,

Sacred to Phabus and the Nine;

That Mirth and foft Delight canst move,

Sacred to Venus and to Love.

Yet, fpight of all thy Virtues rare,
Thou'rt not a Boon-Companion fair;

Thour't full of Wine when thirsty I,
And when I'm drunk, then Thou art dry.