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Like buds appearing ere the frofts are past,
To become man he made fuch fatal hafte,
And to perfection labour'd so to climb,
Preventing flow experience and time,

That 't is no wonder Death our hopes beguil❜d.
He's feldom old that will not be a child.

XVIII. Epitaph unfinished.

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GREAT Soul! for whom Death will no longer stay,
But fends in hafte to fnatch our blifs away.
O cruel Death! to thofe you take more kind
Than to the wretched mortals left behind!
Here beauty, youth, and noble virtue, fhin'd,
Free from the clouds of pride that fhade the mind.
Infpired verfe may on this marble live,
But can no honour to thy afhes give

OF DIVINE LOVE.

A POEM. IN SIX CANTOS.

Floriferis ut apes in faltibus omnia libant;
Sic nos Scripturæ depafcimur aurea diéta;
Aurea perpetua femper digniffima vita!--
Nam divinus amer cum cæpit vociferari,
Diffugiunt animi terrores -

Lucretius, lib. iii.

Exul eram, requiefque mihi, non fama, petita eft,
Mens intenta fuis ne foret ufque malis:
Namque ubi mota calent facra mea pectora Mufa,
Altior humano fpiritus ille malo eft.

Ovid. de Trift. lib. iv. el. I.

The Arguments.

I. ASSERTING the authority of the Scripture, in which this love is revealed.

II. The preference and love of God to man in the creation.

III. The fame love more amply declared in our redemption.

IV. How neceffary this love is to reform mankind, and how excellent in itself.

V. Shewing how happy the world would be, if this love were univerfally embraced.

VI. Of preferving this love in our memory, and how ufeful the contemplation thereof is.

CANTO I.

THE Grecian Mufe has all their gods furviv'd,
Nor Jove at us nor Phœbus is arriv'd;
Frail deities! which firft the poets made,
And then invok'd, to give their fancies aid:
Yet if they ftill divert us with their rage,
What may be hop'd for in a better age,

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When not from Helicon's imagin'd spring,
But Sacred Writ, we borrow what we fing?
This with the fabrick of the world begun,
Elder than light, and shall outlast the fun.
Before this oracle, like Dagon, all

The falfe pretenders, Delphos, Ammon, fall :
Long fince defpis'd and filent they afford
Honour and triumph to th' eternal Word.

As late philofophy our globe has grac'd,
Aud rolling earth among the planets plac'd,
So has this Book entitled us to heav'n,
And rules to guide us to that mansion giv'n:
Tells the conditions how our peace was made,
And is our pledge for the great Author's aid.
His pow'r in Nature's ample book we find,
But the lefs volume does exprefs his mind.

This light unknown, bold Epicurus taught
That his bleft gods vouchfafe us not a thought,
But unconcern'd let all below them slide,
As fortune does, or human wifdom, guide.
Religion thus remov'd, the sacred yoke,
And band of all faciety, is broke.
What ufe of oaths, of promife, or of test,
Where men regard no God but intereft?
What endless war would jealous nations tear,
If none above did witness what they fwear?
Sad fate of unbelievers, and yet just,
Among themfelves to find fo little trust!

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Were Scripture filent, Nature would proclaim, 35
Without a God, our falfehood and our shame.
To know our thoughts the object of his eyes,
Is the first step tow'rds being good or wife;
For tho' with judgment we on things reflect,
Our will determines, not our intellect,
Slaves to their passion, reason men employ
Only to compass what they would enjoy.
His fear to guard us from ourselves we need,
And Sacred Writ our reafon does exceed :
For tho' heav'n fhews the glory of the Lord,
Yet fomething fhines more glorious in his Word:
His mercy this, (which all his work excels!)
His tender kindnefs and compaffion tells:
While we inform'd by that celeflial Book,
Into the bowels of our Maker look.

45

50

Love there reveal'd, (which never fhall have end,
Nor had beginning) fhall our fong commend;
Describe itself, and warm us with that flame
Which first from Heav'n, to make us happy,came.54

CANTO II.

THE fear of hell, or aiming to be bleft,
Savours too much of private interest.
This mov'd not Mofes, nor the zealous Paul,
Who for their friends abandon'd foul and all:
A greater yet from heav'n to hell defcends,
To fave and make his enemies his friends.

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When not from Helicon's imagin'd spring,
But Sacred Writ, we borrow what we fing?
This with the fabrick of the world begun,
Elder than light, and fhall outlast the sun.
Before this oracle, like Dagon, all
The falfe pretenders, Delphos, Ammon, fall:
Long fince defpis'd and filent they afford
Honour and triumph to th' eternal Word.

As late philofophy our globe has grac'd,
And rolling earth among the planets plac'd,
So has this Book entitled us to heav'n,
And rules to guide us to that mansion giv❜n:
Tells the conditions how our peace was made,
And is our pledge for the great Author's aid.
His pow'r in Nature's ample book we find,
But the lefs volume does exprefs his mind.

This light unknown, bold Epicurus taught
That his bleft gods vouchfafe us not a thought,
But unconcern'd let all below them slide,
As fortune does, or human wisdom, guide.
Religion thus remov'd, the facred yoke,
And band of all faciety, is broke.
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test,
Where men regard no God but intereft?
What endless war would jealous nations tear,
If none above did witness what they swear?
Sad fate of unbelievers, and yet juft,

Among themselves to find fo little trust!

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