In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same.

And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.

All men think all men mortal, but themselves;

Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate

Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread:

But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,

Soon close; where passed the shaft, no trace is found.

As from the wing no scar the sky retains;

The parted wave no furrow from the keel;

So dies in human hearts the thought of death.

[From Night Thoughts.]

NIGHT II.
CONSCIENCE.

TREACHEROUS conscience! while she seems to sleep

rose and myrtle, lulled with sy

ren song;

While she seems nodding o'er her charge, to drop

On headlong appetite the slackened

rein,

secret stand,

The sly informer minutes every fault, And her dread diary with horror fills. Not the gross act alone employs her pen:

She reconnoitres fancy's airy band, A watchful foe! the formidable spy, Listening, o'erhears the whispers of

our camp;

Our dawning purposes of heart explores,

And steals our embryos of iniquity. As all-rapacious usurers conceal Their doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs;

Thus, with indulgence most severe,

she treats

Us spendthrifts of inestimable time; Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied;

n leaves more durable than leaves of brass,

Writes our whole history.

[From Night Thoughts.]

NIGHT II.

EFFECT OF CONTACT WITH THE WORLD.

VIRTUE, for ever frail, as fair, below, Her tender nature suffers in the

crowd,

Nor touches on the world, without a

stain:

The world's infectious; few bring

back at eve,

charge,

And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe.

we wish,

And turn our blessings into bane. Since oft

Man must compute that age he cannot feel,

He scarce believes he's older for his years. [store Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in One disappointment sure, to crown the rest;

The disappointment of a promised hour.

[From Night Thoughts.]

NIGHT II. INSUFFICIENCY OF THE WORLD.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours;

And ask them, what report they bore to heaven;

And how they might have borne more welcome news.

Their answers form what men experience call;

If wisdom's friend, her best; if not, worst foe.

Oh, reconcile them! Kind experience cries,

"There's nothing here, but what as nothing weighs:

The more our joy, the more we know it vain;

And by success are tutored to despair."

Nor is it only thus, but must be so. Who knows not this, though gray, is still a child;

Loose then from earth the grasp of fond desire,

Weigh anchor, and some happier clime explore.

[From Night Thoughts.]

NIGHT II.

EFFORT, THE GAUGE OF GREATNESS.

No blank, no trifle, nature made, or meant,

Virtue, or purposed virtue, still be thine:

[From Night Thoughts.]
NIGHT II.

THE END OF THE VIRTUOUS. THE chamber where the good man meets his fate,

Is privileged beyond the common walk

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

A death-bed's a detector of the heart. Here, tired dissimulation drops her mask;

Through life's grimace, that mistress of the scene!

Here, real and apparent are the same. You see the man; you see his hold on heaven.

Whatever farce the boastful hero plays,

Virtue alone has majesty in death; And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns.

devour;

the soul.

ing fire:

Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt,

Struck by the magic of the public eye, Like Moses' smitten rock, gush out amain.

Some weep to share the fame of the deceased,

dear:

fair.