,
With such an index fair, as none can miss,
Who lifts an eye, nor sleeps till it is closed.
Open mine eye, dread Deity! to read
The tacit doctrine of thy works; to see
Things as they are, unalter'd through the glass 1330
Of worldly wishes. Time, eternity!
('Tis these, mismeasured, ruin all mankind)
Set them before me; let me lay them both
In equal scale, and learn their various weight.
Let time appear a moment, as it is;
And let eternity's full orb, at once,
Turn on my soul, and strike it into heaven. 1337
When shall I see far more than charms me now?
Gaze on creation's model in thy breast
Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more?
When this vile, foreign, dust, which smothers all
That travel earth's deep vale, shall I shake off?
When shall my soul her incarnation quit,
And, readopted to thy bless'd embrace,
Obtain her apotheosis in Thee?
Dost think, Lorenzo, this is wandering wide?
No,'tis directly striking at the mark;
To wake thy dead devotion was my point;
And how I bless Night's consecrating shades,
Which to a temple turn an universe; 1350
Fill us with great ideas, full of heaven,
And antidote the pestilential earth!
In every storm, that either frowns, or falls,
What an asylum has the soul in prayer!
And what a fane[68] is this, in which to pray!
And what a God must dwell in such a fane!
Oh, what a genius must inform the skies!
And is Lorenzo's salamander heart
Cold, and untouch'd, amid these sacred fires?
O ye nocturnal sparks! ye glowing embers, 1360
On heaven's broad hearth! who burn, or burn no more,
Who blaze, or die, as Great Jehovah's breath
Or blows you, or forbears; assist my song;
Pour your whole influence; exorcise his heart,
So long possess'd; and bring him back to man.
And is Lorenzo a demurrer still?
Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest
Truths, which, contested, put thy parts to shame.
Nor shame they more Lorenzo's head than heart,
A faithless heart, how despicably small! 1370
Too strait, aught great or generous to receive! 1371
Fill'd with an atom! fill'd, and foul'd, with self!
And self mistaken! self, that lasts an hour!
Instincts and passions, of the nobler kind,
Lie suffocated there; or they alone,
Reason apart, would wake high hope;