The witnesses are heard; the cause is o'er ; Let conscience file the sentence in her court, Dearer than deeds that half a realm convey; Thus seal'd by truth, th' authentic record runs, "Know All; know, infidels,-unapt to know! "'Tis immortality your nature solves ; "Tis immortality decyphers man,

"And opens all the myst'ries of his make.

"Without it, half his instincts are a riddle;
"Without it, all his virtues are a dream.
"His very crimes attest his dignity;

"His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame,
"Declares him born for blessings infinite:

"What less than infinite makes un-absurd "Passions, which all on earth but more inflames? "Fierce passions, so mis-measur'd to this scene, "Stretch'd out, like eagles wings, beyond our nest, Far, far beyond the worth of all below,

"For earth too large, presage a nobler flight, "And evidence our title to the skies."

Ye gentle theologues, of calmer kind! Whose constitution dictates to your pen, Who, cold yourselves, think ardour comes from hell! Think not our passions from corruption sprung, Tho' to corruption now they lend their wings; That is their mistress, not their mother. All (And justly) reason deem divine: I see,

I feel a grandeur in the passions too,

Which speaks their high descent, and glorious end; Which speaks them rays of an eternal fire.

In Paradise itself they burnt as strong,

Ere ADAM fell; tho' wiser in their aim.
Like the proud Eastern, struck by providence,
What tho' our passions are run mad, and stoop
With low, terrestrial appetite, to graze

On trash, on toys, dethron'd from high desire?
Yet still, thro' their disgrace, no feeble ray
Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell:
But these (like that fall'n monarch when reclaim'd),
When reason moderates the reign aright,
Shall re-ascend, remount their former sphere,
Where once they soar'd illustrious; ere reduc'd
By wanton EvE's debauch, to stroll on earth,
And set the sublunary world on fire.

But grant their phrenzy lasts; their phrenzy fails To disappoint one providential end,

For which heav'n blew up ardor in our hearts:
Were reason silent, boundless passion speaks
A future scene of boundless objects too,
And brings glad tidings of eternal day.
Eternal day! 'Tis that enlightens All;
And All, by that enlighten'd, proves it sure.
Consider man as an immortal being,
Intelligible All! and All is great;
A chrystalline transparency prevails,

And strikes full lustre thro' the human sphere:
Consider man as mortal, All is dark,

And wretched; reason weeps at the survey.

The learn'd LORENZO cries, "And let her weep, "Weak, modern reason: Ancient times were wise,

"Authority, that venerable guide,

"Stands on my part; the fam'd Athenian porch "(And who for wisdom so renown'd as They?)

Deny'd this immortality to man."

I grant it; but affirm, they prov'd it too.
A riddle this!-Have patience; I'll explain.
What noble vanities, what moral flights,
Glitt'ring thro' their romantic wisdom's page,
Make us, at once, despise them, and admire?
Fable is flat to these high-season'd Sires;
They leave th' extravagance of song below.
"Flesh shall not feel; or, feeling, shall enjoy
"The dagger, or the rack; to them, alike
"A bed of roses, or the burning bull."
In men exploding all beyond the grave,
Strange doctrine, This! As doctrine, it was strange;
But not, as prophecy; for such it prov'd,

And, to their own amazement, was fulfill'd:
They feign'd a firmness Christians need not feign.
The Christian truly triumph'd in the flame:
The Stoic saw, in double wonder lost,
Wonder at Them, and Wonder at Himself,
To find the bold adventures of his thought
Not bold, and that he strove to lie in vain.
Whence, then, those thoughts? Those tow'ring
thoughts, that flew

Such monstrous heights? From instinct, and from

pride.

The glorious instinct of a deathless soul,

Confus'dly conscious of her dignity,

Suggested truths they could not understand.
In lust's dominion, and in pussion's storm,
Truth's system broken, scatter'd fragments lay,
As light in chaos, glimm'ring thro' the gloom:
Smit with the pomp of lofty sentiments,
Pleas'd pride proclaim'd, what reason disbeliev'd.
Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell,
Rav'd nonsense, destin'd to be future sense,
When life immortal, in full day, shall shine;
And death's dark shadows fly the gospel sun.

They spoke, what nothing but immortal souls

Could speak; and thus the truth they question'd, prov'd.

Can then absurdities, as well as crimes,

Speak man immortal? All things speak him so.
Much has been urg'd; and dost thou call for more?
Call; and with endless questions be distrest,
All unresolvable, if earth is All.

"Why life, a moment; infinite, desire?
"Our wish, Eternity? Our home, the Grave?
"Heav'n's promise dormant lies in human hope;
"Who wishes life immortal, proves it too.

Why happiness pursu'd, tho' never found? "Man's thirst of happiness declares It is, (For nature never gravitates to nought);

"That thirst unquencht declares It is not Here. My LUCIA, Thy CLARISSA, call to thought; Why cordial friendship riveted so deep,

As hearts to pierce at first, at parting, rend, "If friend, and friendship, vanish in an hour?

"Is not This torment in the mask of joy?
Why by reflection marr'd the joys of sense?
Why past, and future, preying on our hearts,
"And putting all our present joys to death?

Why labours reason? instinct were as well; "Instinct far better; what can chuse, can err : "O how infallible the thoughtless brute !

" "Twere well his Holiness were half as sure. "Reason with inclination, why at war?

Why sense of guilt? why conscience up in arms?"
Conscience of guilt, is prophecy of pain,

And bosom-council to decline the blow.
Reason with inclination ne'er had jarr'd,
If nothing future paid forbearance Here:
Thus on These, and a thousand pleas uncall'd,
All promise, some ensure, a second scene;
Which, were it doubtful, would be dearer far
Than all things else most certain; were it false,
What truth on earth so precious as the lye?
This world it gives us, let what will ensue ;
This world it gives, in that high cordial, hope:
The future of the present is the soul :

How this life groans, when sever'd from the next!
Poor mutilated wretch, that disbelieves !

By dark distrust his being cut in two,
In both parts perishes; life void of joy,
Sad prelude of Eternity in pain!

Couldst thou persuade me, the next life could fail
Our ardent wishes; how should I pour out
My bleeding heart in anguish, new, as deep bi