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Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings,
Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid!
Dedaljan enginery! If these alone
Assist our flight, fame'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 towering talents, and terrestrial aims;
Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere,
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal,
With rubbish mix'd, and glittering in the dust.
Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight,
At once compassion soft, and envy, rise-
But wherefore envy? Talents angel-bright,
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In false ambition's hand, to finish faults
Illustrious, and give infamy renown.

Great ill is an achievement of great powers.
Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray.
Reason the means, affections choose our end;
Means have no merit, if our end amiss.
If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain ;
What is a Pelham's head, to Pelham's heart?
Hearts are proprietors of all applause.
Right ends, and means, make wisdom: worldly-wise
Is but half-witted, at its highest praise,

Let genius then despair to make thee great;
Nor flatter station. What is station high?
'Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs;
It begs an alms of homage from the throng,
And oft the throng denies its charity.
Monarchs and ministers are awful names!
Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir.
Religion, public order, both exact
External homage, and a supple knee,
To beings pompously set up, to serve
The meanest slave; all more is merit's due,
He sacred and inviolable right
Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man.
Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior 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 boast his silver fur;
His royal robe unborrow'd, and unbought,
His own, descending fairly from his sires.
Shall man be proud to wear his livery,
And souls in ermin scorn a soul without?
Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize ?

And courting glory from the tinkling string,
But faintly shadows an immortal soul,
With empire's self, to pride, or rapture, fir'd.
If nobler motives minister no cure,
E'en vanity forbids thee to be vain.

High worth is elevated place: 'tis more;
It makes the post stand candidate for thee;
Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man;
Though no exchequer it commands, 't is wealthr;
And though it wears no ril·land, 'tis renown;
Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgrac'd,
Nor leave thee pendant on a master's smile.
Other ambition Nature interdicts;
Nature proclaims it most absurd in man,
By pointing at his origin, and end;
Milk, and a swathe, at first, his whole demand;
His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone;
To whom, between, a world may seen too small.
Souls truly great dart forward on the wing
Of just ambition, to the grand result:
The curtains fall; there, see the buskin'd chief
Unshod behind this momentary scere;
Reduc'd to his own stature, low or high,
As vice or virtue, sinks him, or sublimes;
And laugh at this fantastic mummery,
This antic prelude of grose-que events,
Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray
A littleness of soul by worlds o'er-run,
And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice
To Christian pride! which had with horrour shock'd
The darkest pagans offer'd to their gods.

O thou most Christian enemy to peace;
Again in arms? Again provoking fate?
That prince, and that alone, is truly great,
Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheathes;
On empire builds what empire far outweighs,
And makes his throne a scaffold to the skies.
Why this so rare? Because forgot of all
The day of death; that venerable day,
Which sits as judge; that day, which shall pronounce
On all our days, absolve them, or condemn.
Lorenzo, never shut thy thought against it;
Be levees ne'er so full, afford it room,
And give it audience in the cabinet.
That friend consulted, flatteries apart,
Will tell thee fair, if thou art great, or mean.
To dote ou aught may leave us, or be left,
Is that ambition? Then let flames descend,
Point to the centre their inverted spires,
And learn humiliation from a soul,

Pyginies are pygmies still, though perch'd on alps; Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire.

And pyramids are pyramids in vales.

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself:
Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids :
Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall.
Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause?
The cause is lodg'd in immortality.

Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power;
What station charms thee? I'll install thee there;
'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ?
Then thou before wast something less than man.
Has hy new post betray'd thee into pride?
That treacherous pride betrays the dignity;
That pride defames humanity, and calls
The being mean, which staff's or strings can raise.
That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars,
From blindness bold, and towering to the skies.
'Tis born of ignorance, which knows not man;
An angel's second; nor his second, long,
A Nero quitting his imperial throne,

VOL. XIII.

Yet these are they the world pronounces wise;
The world which cancels Nature's right and wrong,
And casts new wisdom: e'en the grave man lends
His solemn face, to countenance the coin.
Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole.
This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave
To call the wisest weak, the richest poor,
The most ambitious, unambitious, mean;
In triumph, mean; and abject, on a throne.
Nothing can make it less than mad in man,
To put forth all his ardour, all his art,
And give his soul her full unbounded flight,
But reaching him, who gave her wings to fly.
When blind ambition quite mistakes her road,
And downward pores, for that which shines above,
Substantial happiness, and true renown ;
Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook,
We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud;
At glory grasp, and sink in infamy.

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Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds,
When disengag'd from Earth, with greater ease,
And swifter flight, transports us to the skies;
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd,
It turns a curse; it is our chain, and scourge,.
In this dark dungeon, where confin'd we lie,
Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense;
All prospect of eternity shut out;
And, but for execution, ne'er set free.

With errour in ambition justly charged,
Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth?
What if thy rental I reform? and draw
An inventory new to set thee right?

Where thy true treasure? Gold says, "Not in me:"
And, "Not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor;
India's insolvent; seek it in thyself,
Seek in thy naked self, and find it there;
In being so descended, form'd, endow'd;
Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race!
Erect, immortal, rational, divine!

In senses which inherit Earth, and Heavens;
Enjoy the various riches Nature yields;
Far nobler give the riches they enjoy;
Give taste to fruits; and harmony to groves;
Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright fire;
Take in. at once, the landscape of the world,
At a small inlet, which a grain might close,
And half create the wondrous world they see.
Our senses, as our reason, are divine.
But for the magic organ's powerful charm,
Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos, sti!l.

Objects are but th' occasion; ours th' exploit;
Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint,
Whien Nature's admirable picture draws;
And beautifies creation's ample dome.
Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake,
Man makes the matchless image, man admires.
Say, then, shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad,
Superior wonders in himself forgot,

His admiration waste on objects round,

When Heaven makes him the soul of all he
sees?

Absurd! not rare so great, so mean, is man.
What wealth in senses such as these! What wealth
In fancy, fir'd to form a fairer scene

Than sense surveys! In memory's firm record,
Which, should it perish. could this world recall
From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years!
In colours fresh, originally bright,
Preserve its portrait, and report its fate!
What wealth in intellect, that sovereign power,
Which sense and fancy summons to the bar;
Interrogates, approves, or reprehends;
And from the mass those underlings import,
From their materials sifted, and refin'd,
And in truth's balance accurately weigh'd,
Forms art, and science, government, and law;
The solid basis, and the beauteous frame,
The v tals, and the grace of civil life!
And manners (sad exception ') set aside,
Strikes out, with master hand, a copy fair
Of his idea, whose indulgent thought
Long, long, ere chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss.
What crealth in souls that soar, dive, range around,
Disdaining limit, or from place, or time;
And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear
Th' Almighty fiat, and the triumpet's sound!
Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view
What was, and is, and more than c'er shall be;

Commanding, with omnipotence of thought,
Creations new in fancy's field to rise!
Souls, that can grasp whate'er th' Almighty made,
And wander wild through things impossible!
What wealth, in faculties of endless growth,
In quenchless passions violent to crave,
In liberty to choose, in power to reach,
And in duration (how thy riches rise !)
Duration to perpetuate-boundless bliss!

Ask you, what power resides in feeble man
That bliss to gain? Is virtue's, then, unknown?
Virtue, our present peace, our future prize.
Man's unprecarious, natural estate,
Improveable at will, in virtue lies;
Its tenure sure; its income is divine.

High-built abundance, heap on heap! for what?
To breed new wants, and beggar us the more;
Then, make a richer scramble for the throng?
Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long
Almost by miracle, is tir'd with play,
Like rubbish from disploding engines thrown,
Our magazines of hoarded trifles fly;
Fly diverse; fly to foreigners, to foes;
New masters court, and call the former fool
(How justly!) for dependence on their stay.
Wide scatter, first, our play-things; then, our dust.

Dost court abundance for the sake of peace?
Learn, and lament thy self-defeated schcine:
Riches cnable to be richer still;

And, richer still, what mortal can resist?
Thus wealth (a cruel task-master!) enjoins
New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train!
And murders peace, which taught it first to shine.
The poor are half as wretched as the rich;
Whose proud and painful privilege it is,
At once, to bear a double load of woe;
To feel the stings of envy, and of want,
Outrageous want! both Indies cannot cure.
A competence is vital to content.
Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease;
Sick, or encumber'd, is our happiness,
A competence is all we can enjoy.

O be content, where Heaven can give no more!
More, like a flash of water from a lock,
Quickens one spirits' movement for an hour;
But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys
Above our native temper's common stream.
Hence disappointment lurks in every prize,
As bees in flowers; and stings us with success.
The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns;
Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie.
Much learning shows how little mortals know;
Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy ;
At best, it babies us with endless toys,
And keeps us children till we drop to dust.
As monkeys at a mirror stand amaz'd,
They fail to find what they so plainly see;
Thus men, in shining riches, see the face
Of happiness, nor know it is a shade;
But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again,
And wish, and wonder it is absent still.

How few can rescue opulence from want!
Who lives to nature, rarely can be poor;
Who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
Poor is the man in debt; the man of gold,
In debt to fortune, trembles at her power.
The man of reason smiles at her, and death.
O what a patrimony this! A being
Of such inherent strength and majesty,
Not worlds possest can raise it; worlds destroy'd

Can't injure; which holds on its glorious course,
When thine, O Nature! ends; too blest to mourn
Creation's obsequies. What treasure, this!
The monarch is a beggar to the man.

Immortal! Ages past, yet nothing gone!
Morn without eve! a race without a goal!
Unshorten'd by progression infinite!
Futurity for ever fature! Life
Beginning still where computation ends!
'Tis the description of a Deity!

'Tis the description of the meanest slave:
The meanest slave dares then Lorenzo scorn?
The meanest slave thy sovereign glory shares.
Proud youth! fastidious of the lower world!
Man's lawful pride includes humility:
Stoops to the lowest; is too great to find
Inferiors; all immortal! brothers all!
Proprietors eternal of thy love.

Immortal! What can strike the sense so strong,
As this the soul? It thunders to the thought;
Reason amazes; gratitude o'erwhelins;
No more we slumber on the brink of fate;
Rous'd at the sound, th' exulting soul ascends,
And breathes her native air; an air that feeds
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires;
Quick kindles all that is divine within us;
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars.
Has not Lorenzo's bosom caught the flame?
Immortal! Were but one inmortal, how
Would others eavy! How would thrones adore!
Because 't is common, is the blessing lost?
How this ties up the bounteous hand of Heaven!
O vain, vain, vain, all else' Eternity!
A glorious, and a needful refuge, that,
From vile imprisonment, in abject views.
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone,
Amid life's pains, abasement, emptiness,
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill.
That only, and that amply, this performs;
Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above;
Their terrour those, and these their lustre lose;
Eternity depending covers all;
Eternity depending all achieves ;

Sets Earth at distance; casts her into shades ;
Blends her distinctions; abrogates her powers;
The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe,
Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles,
Make one promiscuous and neglected heap,
The man beneath; if I may call him man,
Whom immortality's full force inspires.
Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought;
Suns shine unseen, and thunders roll unheard,
By minds quite conscious of their high descent,
Their present province, and their future prize;
Divinely darting upward every wish,
Warm on the wing, in glorious absence lost!

Doubt you this truth? Why labours your belief:
If Earth's whole orb by some due distanc'd eye
Were seen at once, her towering Alps would sink,
And level'd Atlas leave an even sphere.
Thus Earth, and all that earthly minds admire,
Is swallow'd in Eternity's vast round.
To that stupendous view when souls awake,
So large of late, so mountainous to man,
Time's toys subside; and equal all below.

Enthusiastic, this? Then all are weak, But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height Some souls have soar'd; or martyrs ne'er had bled. And all may do, what has by man been done. Who, beaten by these sublunary storms,

Boundless interminable joys can weigh,
Unraptur'd, unexalted, uninflam'd?
What slave unblest, who from to morrow's dawn
Expects an empire? He forgets his chain,
And, thron'd in thought, his absent sceptre waves.
And what a sceptre waits us! what a throne!
Her own immense appointments to compute,
Or comprehend her high prerogatives,
In this her dark minority, how toils,
How vainly pants, the human soul divine!
Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy;
What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss?

In spite of all the truths the Muse has sung,
Ne'er to be priz'd enough! enough revolv'd!
Are there who wrap the world so close about them,
They see no further than the clouds; and dance
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe,

Till stumbling at a straw, in their career,
[song?
Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and
Are there, Lorenzo? Is it possible?

Are there on Earth (let me not call them men)
Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts;
Unconscious as the mountain of its ore;

Or rock, of its inestimable gem?

When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these
Shall know their treasure; treasure, then, no more.
Are there (still more amazing!) who resist
The rising thought? who sinother, in its birth,
The glorious truth? who struggle to be brutes?
Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way,
And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink?
Who labour downwards through th' opposing powers
Of instinct, reason, and the world against them,
To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock

Of endless night; night darker than the grave's?
Who fight the proofs of immortality?
With horrid zeal, and execrable arts,
Work all their engines, level their black fires,
To blot from man this attribute divine,
(Than vital blood far dearer to the wise)
Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves?
To contradict them, see all Nature rise!
What object, what event, the Moon beneath,
But argues, or endears, an after-scene?
To reason proves, or weds it to desire?
All things proclaim it needful; some advance
One precious step beyond, and prove it sure.
A thousand arguments swarm round my pen.
From Heaven, and Earth, and man. Indulge a few
By Nature, as her common habit, worn;
So pressing Providence a truth to teach,
Which truth untaught, all other truths were vain.
Thou! whose all-providential eye surveys,
Whose hand directs, whose spirit fills and warms
Creation, and holds empire far beyond!
Eternity's inhabitant august!
Of two e.ernities amazing Lord!

One past, ere man's or angel's had begun;
Aid! while I rescue from the foe's assault
Thy glorious immortality in man :

A theme for ever, and for all, of weight,
Of moment infinite! but relish'd most
By those who love thee most, who most adore.
Nature, thy daughter, ever-changing birth
Of thee the Great Immutable, to man
Speaks wisdom; is his oracle supreme;
And he who most consults her, is most wise.
Lorenzo, to this heavenly Delphos haste;
And come back all-immortal; all-divine:
Look Nature through, 'tis revolution all;

All change; no death. Day follows night; and night

The dying day; stars rise, and set, and rise;
Earth takes th' example. See the Summer gay,
With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers,
Droops into pallid Autumn: Winter gray,
Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm,
Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away:
Then melts into the Spring: soft Spring, with breath
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south,
Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades;
As in a wheel, all sinks, to reascend,
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires.

With this minute distinction, emblems just,
Nature revolves, but man advances; both
Eternal, that a circle, this a line.

That gravitates, this soars. Th' aspiring soul,
Ardent, and tremulous, like flaine, ascends,
Zeal and humility her wings, to Heaven.
The world of matter, with its various forms,
All dies into new life. Life born from death
Rolls the vast mass, and shall for ever roll.
No single atom, once in being, lost,
With change of counsel charges the Most High.
What hence infers Lorenzo? Can it be !
Matter immortal? And shall spirit die?
Above the nobler, shall less noble rise?
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives,
No resurrection know? Shall man alone,
Imperial man! be sown in barren ground,
Less privileg'd than grain, on which he feeds?
Is man, in whom alone is power to prize
The bliss of being, or with previous pain
Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate,
Severely doom'd death's single unredeem'd?
If Nature's revolution speaks aloud,
In her gradation, hear her louder still.
Look Nature through, 'tis neat gradation all.
By what minute degrees her scale ascends!
Each middle nature join'd at each extreme,
To that above it join'd, to that beneath.
Parts, into parts reciprocally shot,
Abhor divorce: what love of union reigns!
Here, dormant matter waits a call to life; [sense;
Half-life, half-death, join'd there; here life and
There, sense from reason steals a glimmering ray;
Reason shines out in man. But how preserv'd
The chain unbroken upward, to the realms
Of incorporeal life? those realms of bliss,
Where death hath no dominion? Grant a make
Half-mortal, half-immortal; earthy, part,
And part ethereal; grant the soul of man
Eternal; or in man the series ends,

Wide yawns the gap; connection is no more;
Check'd reason halts; her next step wants support;
Striving to climb, she tumbles from her scheme;
A scheme, analogy pronounc'd so true;
Analogy, man's surest guide below.

Thus far, all Nature calls on thy belief.
And will Lorenzo, careless of the call,
False attestation on all Nature charge,
Rather than violate his league with death?
Renounce his reason, rather than renounce
The dust belov'd, and run the risk of Heaven?
Ohat indignity to deathless souls!
What treason to the majesty of man!
Of man immortal! Hear the lofty style:
"If so decrced, th' Almighty will be done.

Jet Earth dissolve, yon ponderous orbs descend,
And grind us into dust. The soul is safe;

| The man emerges; mounts above the wreck,
As towering flame from Nature's funeral pyre;
O'er devastation, as a gainer, smiles;
His charter, his inviolable rights,
Well pleas'd to learn from thunder's impotence,
Death's pointless darts, and Hell's defeated storms."
But these chimeras touch not thee, Lorenzo !
The glories of the world thy sevenfold shield.
Other ambition than of crowns in air,
And superlunary felicities,

Thy bosom warm. I'll cool it, if I can ;

And turn those glories that enchant, against thee.
What ties thee to this life, proclaims the next.
If wise, the cause that wounds thee is thy cure,
Come, my ambitious! let us mount together
(To mount, Lorenzo never can refuse);
And from the clouds, where pride delights to dwell,
Look down on Earth.-What seest thou? Won-
drous things!

Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the skies.
What lengths of labour'd lands! what loaded seas!
Loaded by man for pleasure, wealth, or war!
Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought,
His art acknowledge, and promote his ends.
Nor can th' eternal rocks his will withstand;
What level'd mountains! and what lifted vales!
O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell,
And gild our landscape with their glittering spires.
Some mid the wondering waves majestic rise;
And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms.
Far greater still! (what cannot mortal might?)
See, wide dominions ravish'd from the deep!
The narrow'd deep with indignation foams.
Or southward turn; to delicate and grand,
The finer arts there ripen in the sun.
How the tall temples, as to meet their gods,
Ascend the skies! the proud triumphal arch
Shows us half Heaven beneath its ample bend.
High through mid air, here, streams are taught to
Whole rivers, there, laid by in basons, sleep. [flow;
Here, plains turn oceans; there, vast oceans join
Through kingdoms channel'd deep from shore to
shore!

And chang'd creation takes its face from man.
Beats thy brave breast for formidable scenes,
Where fame and empire wait upon the sword?
See fields in blood; hear naval thunders rise;
Britannia's voice! that awes the world to peace.
How yon enormous mole, projecting, breaks
The mid-sea, furious waves! Their roar amidst,
Out-speaks the Deity, and says, "O main!
Thus far, nor farther; new restraints obey."
Earth's disembowel'd! measur'd are the skies!
Stars are detected in their deep recess !
Creation widens! vanquish'd Nature yields !
Her secrets are extorted! art prevails!
What monument of genius, spirit, power!

And now, Lorenzo! raptur'd at this scene, Whose glories render Heaven superfluous! say, Whose footsteps these?-Immortals have been here. Could less than souls immortal this have done? Earth's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal; And proofs of immortality forgot.

To flatter thy grand foible, I confess, These are ambition's works: and these are great : But this, the least immortal souls can do ; Transcend them all-But what can these tran

scend?

Dost ask me what?-One sigh for the distrest. What then for infulels? A deeper sigh.

'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man:
How little they, who think aught great below!
All our ambitions death defeats, but one;
And that it crowns. Here cease we: but, ere long,
More powerful proof shall take the field against
thee,

Stronger than death, and smiling at the tomb.

NIGHT THE SEVENTH.

BEING THE SECOND PART OF

THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED.

ments for immortality, new at least to me, are ventured on in them. There also the writer has made an attempt to set the gross absurdities and horrours of annihilation in a fuller and more affecting view, than is (I think) to be met with

elsewhere.

The gentlemen, for whose sake this attempt was chiefly made, profess great admiration for the wisdom of heathen antiquity: what pity it is they are not sincere! If they were sincere, how would it mortify them to consider, 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

Containing the Nature, Prouf, and Importance, of share, may be conjectured by the following mat

Immortality.

PREFACE.

As we are at war with the power, it were well if we were at war with the manners, of France. A tand of levity is a land of guilt. A serious mind is the native soil of every virtue, and the single character that does true honour to mankind. The soul's immortality has been the favourite theme with the serious of all ages. Nor is it strange; it is a subject by far the most interesting, and important, that can enter the mind of man. Of highest moment this subject always was and always will be. Yet this its highest moment seems to admit of increase, at this day; a sort of occasional importance is superadded to the natural weight of it; if that opinion which is advanced in the preface to the preceding Night, be just. It is there supposed, that all our infidels, whatever scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep themselves in countenance, they patronize, are betrayed into their deplorable errour, by some doubts of their immortality, at the bottom. And the more I consider this point, the more I am persuaded of the truth of that opinion. Though the distrust of a futurity is a strange errour; yet it is an errour into which lad men may naturally be distressed. For it is impossible to bid defiance to final ruin, without some refuge in imagination, some presumption of escape. And what presumption is there? There are but two in nature; but two, within the compass of human thought. And these are-That either God will not, or can not punish. Considering the divine attributes, the first is too gross to be digested by our strongest wishes. And since omnipotence is as much a divine attribute as holiness, that God cannot punish, is as absurd a supposition as the former. God certainly can punish as long as wicked men exist. In non-existence, therefore, is their only refuge; and, consequently, non-existence is their strongest wish. And strong wishes have a strange influence on our opinions; they bias the judgment in a manner, almost, incredible. And since on this member of their alternative, there are some very small appearances in their favour, aud none at all on the other, they catch at this reed, they lay hold on this chimera, to save themselves from the shock and horrour of an immediate and absolute despair.

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ter of fact (in my opinion) extremely memorable. Of all their heathen worthies, Socrates (it is well known) was the most guarded, dispassionate, and composed: yet this great master of temper was angry; and angry at his last hour; and angry with his friend; and angry for what deserved ac knowledgment; angry for a right and tender instance of true friendship towards him. Is not his surprising? What could be the cause? The cause was for his honour; it was a truly noble, though, perhaps, a too punctilious, regard for immortality for his friend asking him, with such an affectionate concern as became a friend, "Where he should deposit his remains?" It was resented by Socrates, as implying a dishonourable supposition, that he could be so mean, as to have a regard for any thing, even in himself, that was not immortal.

This fact well considered would make our infidels withdraw their admiration from Socrates; or make them endeavour, by their imitation of this illustrious example, to share his glory: and, consequently, it would incline them to peruse the following pages with candour and impartiality: which is all I desire; and that, for their sakes: for I am persuaded, that an unprejudiced infidel must, necessarily, receive some advantageous impressions from them. July 7, 1744.

CONTENTS OF THE SEVENTH NIGHT.

In the Sixth Night arguments were drawn, from Nature, in proof of immortality: here, others are drawn from man: from his discontent, ver. 29; from his passions and powers, 64; from the gradual growth of reason, 81; from his fear of death, 86; from the nature of hope, 104, and of virtue, 139, &c. from knowledge and love, as being the most essential properties of the soul, 253; from the order of creation, 290, &c. from the nature of ambition, 337, &c. avarice, 460; pleasure, 477; a digression on the grandeur of the passions, 521. Immortality alone renders our present state intelligible, 545. An objection from the Stoics' disbelief of immortality answered, 585. Endless questions unresolvable, but on supposition of our immortality, 606. The natural, most melancholy, and pathetic complaint of a worthy man, under the persuasion of no futurity, 653, &c. The gross absurdities and horrours of annihilation urged home on Lorenzo, 842, &c. The soul's vast importance, 990, &c. From On reviewing my subject, by the light which this whence it arises, 1078. The difficulty of being an argument, and others of like tendency, threw upon infidel 1131, the infamy, 1148, the cause, 1183, it, I was more inclined than ever to pursue it, as it and the character, 1203, of an infidel state. What appeared to me to strike directly at the main root true free-thinking is, 1217. The necessary punishof all our infidelity. In the following pages it is, ment of the false, 1271. Man's ruin is from himaccordingly, pursued at large; and some argu-self, 1303. An infidel accuses himself of guilt, and

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