If there be none, this world is all a cheat,

And the divine stability of Heaven

(That assured seat for good men after death) Is but a transient cloud, display'd so fair

To cherish virtuous hope, but at our need

Eludes the sense, and fools our honest faith,

Vanishing in a lie. If this be so,

Were it not better to be born a beast,

Only to feel what is, and thus to 'scape

The aguish fear that shakes the afflicted breast

With sore anxiety of what shall be

And all for nought? Since our most wicked act

Is not our sin, and our religious awe

Delusion, if that strong Necessity

Chains up our will. But that the mind is free,

The Mind herself, best judge of her own state,
Is feelingly convinced; nor to be moved

By subtle words, that may perplex the head,

But ne'er persuade the heart. Vain argument,
That with false weapons of Philosophy

Fights against Hope, and Sense, and Nature's

strength!

See how the Sun, here clouded, afar off

Pours down the golden radiance of his light
Upon the enridged sea; where the black ship
Sails on the phosphor-seeming waves. So fair,
But falsely-flattering, was yon surface calm,

When forth for India sail'd, in evil time,

That Vessel, whose disastrous fate, when told,
Fill'd every breast with horror, and each eye
With piteous tears, so cruel was the loss3.
Methinks I see her, as, by the wintry storm
Shatter'd and driven along past yonder Isle,

She strove, her latest hope, by strength or art,

To gain the port within it, or at worst

To shun that harbourless and hollow coast

From Portland eastward to the Promontory",

Where still St. Alban's high built chapel stands.

But art nor strength avail her-on she drives,

In storm and darkness to the fatal coast:

And there 'mong rocks and high-o'erhanging cliffs

Dash'd piteously, with all her precious freight
Was lost, by Neptune's wild and foamy jaws

Swallow'd up quick! The richliest-laden ship
Of spicy Ternate, or that Annual, sent

To the Philippines o'er the Southern main

From Acapulco, carrying massy gold,

Were poor to this;-freighted with hopeful Youth,

And Beauty, and high Courage undismayed

By mortal terrors, and paternal Love

Strong, and unconquerable even in death

Alas, they perish'd all, all in one hour!

Now yonder high way view, wide-beaten, bare

With ceaseless tread of men and beasts, and track

C

Of many indenting wheels, heavy and light,

That in their different courses as they pass,

Rush violently down precipitate,

Or slowly turn, oft resting, up the steep. Mark how that road, with mazes serpentine,

From Shipton's bottom to the lofty down Winds like a path of pleasure, drawn by art Through park or flowery garden for delight. Nor less delightful this-if, while he mounts Not wearied, the free Journeyer will pause

To view the prospect oft, as oft to see Beauty still changing: yet not so contrived

By fancy, or choice, but of necessity,

By soft gradations of ascent to lead