Stand firm aloof; nor let the gaudy phantom
Too long allure your gaze; the just delight
That Heaven indulges lawful must obey
Superior powers; nor tempt your thoughts too far
In slavery to sense, nor swell your hope

To dangerous size. If it approach your feet,
And court your hand, forbid the' intruding joy
To sit too near your heart: still may our souls
Claim kindred with the skies, nor mix with dust
Our better-born affections: leave the globe,
A nest for worms, and hasten to our home.

O there are gardens of the' immortal kind,
That crown the heavenly Eden's rising hills
With beauty and with sweets: no lurking mischief
Dwells in the fruit, nor serpent twines the boughs;
The branches bend laden with life and bliss
Ripe for the taste, but 'tis a steep ascent:

Hold fast the golden chain* let down from Heav'n,
"Twill help your feet and wings; I feel its force
Draw upwards; fasten'd to the pearly gate
It guides the way unerring; happy clue

Through this dark wild! 'Twas Wisdom's noblest work,

All join'd by Power Divine, and every link is love.

*The Gospel,

TO MR. T. BRADBURY.

PARADISE.

1708.

YOUNG as I am, I quit the stage,
Nor will I know the applauses of the age;
Farewell to growing fame. I leave below
A life not half worn out with cares,
Or agonies, or years;

I leave my country all in tears,

But Heaven demands me upward, and I dare to go. Amongst ye, friends, divide and share

The remnant of my days,

If ye have patience, and can bear

[race.

A long fatigue of life, and drudge through all the

Hark! my fair guardian chides my stay,

And waves his golden rod :

'Angel, I come, lead on the way :'

And now by swift degrees

I sail aloft through azure seas,

Now tread the milky road;

Farewell, ye planets, in your spheres;
And as the stars are lost, a brighter sky appears.
In haste for paradise

I stretch the pinions of a bolder thought:
Scarce had I will'd, but I was past

Deserts of trackless light and all the' ethereal waste,
And to the sacred borders brought;

There on the wing a guard of cherubs lies,

Each waves a keen flame as he flies,

And well defends the wall from sieges and surprise.

With pleasing reverence I behold

The pearly portals wide unfold:
Enter, my soul, and view the' amazing scenes:
Sit fast upon the flying Muse,

And let thy roving wonder loose
O'er all th' empyreal plains.

Noon stands eternal here: here may thy sight
Drink in the rays of primogenial light;
Here breathe immortal air:
Joy must beat high in every vein,
Pleasure through all thy bosom reign;
The laws forbid that stranger, pain,
And banish every care.

See how the bubbling springs of love
Beneath the throne arise;

The streams in crystal channels move,
Around the golden streets they rove,
And bless the mansions of the upper skies.
There a fair grove of knowledge grows,
Nor sin nor death infects the fruit;
Young life hangs fresh on all the boughs,
And springs from every root;

Here may thy greedy senses feast,
While ecstacy and health attends on every taste.
With the fair prospect charm'd I stood;

Fearless I feed on the delicious fare,

And drink profuse Salvation from the Silver Flood, Nor can excess be there.

In sacred order rang'd along,

Saints new-releas'd by death

Join the the bold seraph's warbling breath,

And aid the' immortal song.

Each has a voice that tunes his strings
To mighty sounds and mighty things,
Things of everlasting weight,
Sounds, like the softer viol, sweet,
And, like the trumpet, strong.
Divine attention held my soul,
I was all ear!

Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll,
I long'd and wish'd my Bradbury there;
'Could he but hear these notes, (I said)
His tuneful soul would never bear

The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread,
But burst the vital chords to reach the happy
dead.'

And now my tongue prepares to join The harmony, and with a noble aim

Attempts the' unutterable name, But faints, confounded by the notes divine: Again my soul the' unequal honour sought, Again her utmost force she brought, And bow'd beneath the burden of the' unweildy thought.

Thrice I essay'd, and fainted thrice; The immortal labour strain'd my feeble frame, Broke the bright vision, and dissolv'd the dream; I sunk at once and lost the skies: In vain I sought the scenes of light Rolling abroad my longing eyes,

For all around them stood my curtains and the night.

STRICT RELIGION VERY RARE.

I'm borne aloft, and leave the crowd,

I sail upon a morning cloud
Skirted with dawning gold :
Mine eyes beneath the opening day
Command the globe with wide survey,
Where ants in busy millions play,
And tug and heave the mould.

Are these the things,' my passion cried, "That we call men? Are these allied

To the fair worlds of light?

They have ras'd out their Maker's name,
Grav'n on their minds with pointed flame
In strokes divinely bright.

'Wretches! they hate their native skies: If an ethereal thought arise,

Or spark of virtue shine,

With cruel force they damp its plumes,
Choke the young fire with sensual fumes,
With business, lust, or wine.

'Lo! how they throng with panting breath The broad descending road, That leads unerring down to death,

Nor miss the dark abode.'

Thus while I drop a tear or two

On the wild herd, a noble few
Dare to stray upward, and pursue
The' unbeaten way to God.