. Night thoughts. realities expird; Renouncd all correspondence with the skies; Our freedom chaind; quite wingless our desire; In sense dark-prisond all that ought to soar; Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust; 34?5 Dismounted evry great and glorious aim; Embruted evry faculty divine; Heart-buryd in the rubbish of the world— The world, that gulp of souls, immortal souls, Souls elevate, angelic, wingd with fire 350 To reach the distant skies, and triumph there On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changd; Though we from earth; ethereal, they that fell. Such veneration due, O Man!
. Night thoughts. realities expird; Renouncd all correspondence with the skies; Our freedom chaind; quite wingless our desire; In sense dark-prisond all that ought to soar; Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust; 34?5 Dismounted evry great and glorious aim; Embruted evry faculty divine; Heart-buryd in the rubbish of the world— The world, that gulp of souls, immortal souls, Souls elevate, angelic, wingd with fire 350 To reach the distant skies, and triumph there On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changd; Though we from earth; ethereal, they that fell. Such veneration due, O Man! to Man. Who venerate themselves the world despise. 355For what, gay friend! is this escutcheond world,Which hangs out Death in one eternal night?A night, that glooms us in the noon-tide ray,And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the little stage is a small eminence, 360 Inch-high the grave above; that home of Man,Where dwells the multitude: We gaze around;We read their monuments; we sigh; and while. ■ ///„„ y,,/MirAai^ 1u?*t6&Z97, fy Z& fjohM//, M-fa 29 We sigh, we sink; and are what we deplord;Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot! 365 Is Death at distance? No: He has heen on thee;And givn sure earnest of his final hours, which lately smild, where are they now?Palid to thought, and ghastly! drownd, all drowndIn that great deep, which nothing disembogues! 370And, dying, they bequeathd thee small rest are on the wing: How fleet their flight!Already has the fatal train took fire;A moment—and the worlds blown up to thee—The sun is darkness—and the stars are dust. 375 Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours;And ask them, what report they bore to Ileavn;And how they might have borne more welcome answers form what Men experience call;If Wisdoms friend, her best; if not, worst f
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