68
The Complaint.
Night 4.
Angels are Men in lighter Habit clad,
High o'er celestial Mountains wing'd in Flight;
And Men are Angels, loaded for an Hour,
Who wade this miry Vale, and climb with Pain,
And slipp'ry Step, the Bottom of the Steep.
Angels their Failings, Mortals have their Praise;
While Here, of Corps ethereal, such enroll'd,
And summon'd to the glorious Standard soon,
Which flames eternal Crimson thro' the Skies.
Nor are our Brothers thoughtless of their Kin,
Yet absent; but not absent from their Love.
Michael has fought our Battles; Raphael sung
Our Triumphs; Gabriel on our Errands flown,
Sent by the SOV'REIGN: And are these, O Man!
Thy Friends, thy warm Allies? And Thou (Shame burn
The Cheek to Cinder!) Rival to the Brute?
Religion's All. Descending from the Skies
To wretched Man, the Goddess in her Left
Holds out this World, and, in her Right, the next;
Religion! the sole Voucher Man is Man;
Supporter sole of Man above himself;
Ev'n in this Night of Frailty, Change, and Death,
She gives the Soul a Soul that acts a God.
Religion! Providence! an After-State!
Here is firm Footing; here is solid Rock;
This can support us; all is Sea besides;
Sinks under us; bestorms, and then devours.
His Hand the good Man fastens on the Skies,
And bids Earth roll, nor feels her idle Whirl.
As when a Wretch, from thick, polluted Air,
Darkness, and Stench, and suffocating Damps,
And Dungeon-Horrors, by kind Fate, discharg'd,
Climbs some fair Eminence, where Ether pure
Surrounds him, and Elysian Prospects rise,
His Heart exults, his Spirits cast their Load;
High o'er celestial Mountains wing'd in Flight;
And Men are Angels, loaded for an Hour,
Who wade this miry Vale, and climb with Pain,
And slipp'ry Step, the Bottom of the Steep.
Angels their Failings, Mortals have their Praise;
While Here, of Corps ethereal, such enroll'd,
And summon'd to the glorious Standard soon,
Which flames eternal Crimson thro' the Skies.
Nor are our Brothers thoughtless of their Kin,
Yet absent; but not absent from their Love.
Michael has fought our Battles; Raphael sung
Our Triumphs; Gabriel on our Errands flown,
Sent by the SOV'REIGN: And are these, O Man!
Thy Friends, thy warm Allies? And Thou (Shame burn
The Cheek to Cinder!) Rival to the Brute?
Religion's All. Descending from the Skies
To wretched Man, the Goddess in her Left
Holds out this World, and, in her Right, the next;
Religion! the sole Voucher Man is Man;
Supporter sole of Man above himself;
Ev'n in this Night of Frailty, Change, and Death,
She gives the Soul a Soul that acts a God.
Religion! Providence! an After-State!
Here is firm Footing; here is solid Rock;
This can support us; all is Sea besides;
Sinks under us; bestorms, and then devours.
His Hand the good Man fastens on the Skies,
And bids Earth roll, nor feels her idle Whirl.
As when a Wretch, from thick, polluted Air,
Darkness, and Stench, and suffocating Damps,
And Dungeon-Horrors, by kind Fate, discharg'd,
Climbs some fair Eminence, where Ether pure
Surrounds him, and Elysian Prospects rise,
His Heart exults, his Spirits cast their Load;
As
