And art thou still a glutton of bright gold?
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin?
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow;
A blow, which, while it executes, alarms;
And startles thousands with a single fall.

As when some stately growth of oak, or pine,
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade,
The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence;
By the strong strokes of lab'ring hinds subdu'd,
Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height,
In cumbrous ruin, thunders to the ground:
The conscious forest trembles at the shock,
And hill, and stream, and distant dale, resound.

These high-aim'd darts of death, and these alone, Should I collect, my quiver would be full. A quiver, which, suspended in mid-air, Or near heav'n's archer, in the zodiack, hung, (So could it be) should draw the public eye, The gaze and contemplation of mankind! A constellation awful, yet benign,

To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave; Nor suffer them to strike the common rock, "From greater danger to grow more secure, "And, wrapt in happiness, forget their fate." LYSANDER, happy past the common lot, Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. He woo'd the fair ASPASIA: She was kind:

In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were blest: All who knew, envy'd; yet in envy lov'd;

Can fancy form more finisht happiness?

Fixt was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome
Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires
Float in the wave, and break against the shore:
So break those glitt'ring shadows, human joys.
The faithless morning smil'd: he takes his leave,
To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve.

The rising storm forbids. The news arrives;
Untold, she saw it in her servant's eye.
She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel);
And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid
In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb.
Now, round the sumptuous, bridal monument,
The guilty billows innocently roar ;

And the rough sailor passing, drops a tear.
A tear-Can tears suffice?-But not for me.
How vain our efforts! and our arts, how vain!
The distant train of thought I took, to shun,
Has thrown me on my fate-These died together;
Happy in ruin! undivorc'd by death!

is
Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, peace-
NARCISSA! Pity bleeds at thought of thee.
Yet thou wast only near me; not myself.
Survive myself?—That cures all other woe.
NARCISSA lives; PHILANDER is forgot.
O the soft commerce! O the tender ties,
Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart!
Which, broken, break them; and drain off the soul
Of human joy; and make it pain to live—
And is it then to live? When such friends part,
'Tis the survivor dies-My heart, no more.

NIGHT THE SIXTH.

THE

INFIDEL

RECLAIMED.

IN TWO PARTS.

CONTAINING

THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE OF IMMORTALITY.

Part the First.

Where, among other Things,

GLORY AND RICHES ARE PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED.

To the Right Honourable

HENRY PELHAM,

FIRST LORD COMMISSIONER OF THE TREASURY, AND CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER.

PREFACE.

FEW ages have been deeper in dispute about religion than

this. The dispute about religion, and the practice of it, seldom go together. The shorter, therefore, the dispute, the better. I think it may be reduc'd to this single question. Is man immortal, or is he not? If he is not, all our disputes are mere amusements, or trials of skill. In this case, truth, reason, religion, which give our discourses such pomp and solemnity, are (as will be shewn) mere empty sound, without any meaning in them. But if man is immortal, it will behove him to be very serious about eternal consequences; or, in other words, to be truly religious. And this great fundamental truth, unestablished, or unawaken'd in the minds of men, is, I conceive, the real source and support of all our infidelity; how remote soever the particular objections advanced may seem to be from it.

Sensible appearances affect most men much more than abstract reasonings; and we daily see bodies drop around us, but the soul is invisible. The power which inclination has over the judgment, is greater than can be well conceived by those that have not had an experience of it; and of what numbers is it the sad interest that souls should not survive! The heathen world confessed, that they rather hoped, than firmly believed immortality! And how many heathens have we still amongst us! The sacred page assures us, that life and immortality is brought to light by the Gospel: but by how many is the Gospel rejected, or overlooked! From these considerations, and