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Man's boundlefs avarice his wants exceeds,
And on his neighbours round about him feeds.
His pride and vain ambition are so vast,
That deluge like; they lay whole nations waste.
Debauches and excefs (tho' with less noife)
As great a portion of mankind destroys.
The beafts and monsters Hercules oppreft,
Might in that age fome provinces infeft:
Thefe more destructive monsters are the bane
Of ev'ry age, and in all nations reign;

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But foon would vanish, if the world were bless'd
With facred love, by which they are reprefs'd. 20
Impendent death, and guilt that threatens hell,
Are dreadful guests, which here with mortals dwell;
And a vex'd confcience, mingling with their joy
Thoughts of defpair does their whole life annoy;
But love appearing, all those terrours fly;
We live contented, and contented die.
They in whose breast this facred love has place,
Death as a paffage to their joy embrace.
Clouds and thick vapours, which obscure the day,
The fun's victorious beams may chase away:
Those which our life corrupt and darken, love
(The nobler star!) must from the foul remove.
Spots are obferv'd in that which bounds the year;
This brighter fun moves in a boundless sphere,
Of heav'n the joy, the glory, and the light;
Shines among angels, and admits no night.

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CANTO V.

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His Iron Age (fo fraudulent and bold!) Touch'd with this love, would be an Age of Gold: Not as they feign'd that oaks fhould honey drop, Or land neglected bear an unfown crop;

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Love would make all things eafy, fafe, and cheap; 3
None for himself would either fow or reap:
Our ready help and mutual love would yield
A nobler harvest than the richest field.
Famine and death, confin'd to certain parts,
Extended are by barrenness of hearts.
Some pine for want where others surfeit now;
But then we should the ufe of plenty know.
Love would betwixt the rich and needy stand,
And spread Heav'n's bounty with an equal hand:
At once the givers and receivers bless,
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Increase their joy, and make their fuff'ring less.
Who for himself.no miracle would make,
Difpens'd with fevral for the people's fake:
He that, long fafting, would no wonder show,
Made loaves and fishes, as they ate them, grow, 20
Of all his pow'r, which boundlefs was above,
Here he us'd none but to express his love;
And fuch a love would make our joy exceed,
Not when our own, but other mouths we feed.
Laws would be ufelefs which rude nature awe; 25
Love, changing nature, would prevent the law :

Tigers and lions into dens we thruft,

But milder creatures with their freedom trust.
Devils are chain'd, and tremble; but the Spouse
No force but love, nor bond but bounty, knows. 30
Men (whom we now so fierce and dang`rous sec)
Would guardian angels to each other be ;

Such wonders can this mighty love perform,
Vultures to doves, wolves into lambs transform!
Love what Isaiah prophefy'd can do,

Exalt the vallies, lay the mountains low,

Humble the lofty, the dejected raife,

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Smooth andmakeftraight ourrough anderookedways.
Love, ftrong as death, and like it, levels all ;

With that poffeft, the great in title fall:
Themfelves esteem but equal to the leaft,

Whom Heav'n with that high character has bleft.
This love, the centre of our union, can

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Alone beftow complete repofe on man ;'

Tame his wild appetite, make inward peace,

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And foreign ftrife among the nations ceafe.
No martial trumpet should disturb our reft,
Nor princes arm, tho' to fubdue the Eaft,
Where for the tomb so many heroes (taught
By those that guided their devotion) fought.
Thrice happy we, could we like ardour have
To gain his love, as they to win his grave!
Love as he lov'd! A love fo unconfin'd,

With arms extended, would embrace mankind.

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Self-love would cease, or be dilated, when
We should behold as many felfs as men;

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All of one family, in blood ally'd,

His precious blood, that for our ransom dy’d!

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CANTOVI.

Tao' the creation (fo divinely taught!)
Prints such a lively image on our thought,
That the first spark of new-created light,
From Chaos ftrook, affects our present fight,
Yet the first Chriftians did esteem more bleft
The day of rifing than the day of rest,
That ev'ry week might new occafion give
To make his triumph in their mem'ry live.
Then let our Muse compose a sacred charm
To keep his blood among us ever warm,
And finging as the blessed do above,

With our laft breath dilate this flame of love.
But on fo vast a subject who can find
Words that may reach th' ideas of his mind?
Our language fails; or, if it could fupply,
What mortal thought can raise itself so high?
Despairing here, we might abandon art,
And only hope to have it in our heart.
But tho' we find this facred talk too hard,
Yet the design, th' endeavour, brings reward:
The contemplation does suspend our wo,
And makes a truce with all the ills we know.

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ΙΘ

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As Saul's afflicted spirit from the found

Of David's harp a prefent folace found;

So on this theme while we our Mufe engage,

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No wounds are felt of Fortune or of Age.

On Divine Love to meditate is peace,

And makes all care of meaner things to cease.
Amaz'd at once, and comforted, to find

A boundless Pow'r fo infinitely kind,
The foul contending to that light to flee
From her dark cell, we practise how to die;
Employing thus the poet's winged art,
To reach this love, and grave it in our heart.
Joy fo complete, fo folid, and fevere,

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Would leave no place for nieaner pleasures there; Pale they would look, as stars that must be gone, When from the Eaft the rifing fun comes on.

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