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Truru is eternal, and the Son of Heav'n,
Bright effluence of th' immortal ray,
Chief cherub, and chief lamp, of that high sacred

Which guard the throne by night, and are its light

by day:
First of God's darling attributes,
Thou daily seest Him face to face,

* This poem, with that addressed to Mr. Congreve, and the one on Sir William Temple's Illness and Recovery, were first pub. lished in 1789, from an authentick manuscript, fairly and correctly written out, as if intended for the press; and from the datos, it is supposed that these were among the first, if not the earliest productions of the Dean's Muse N.

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Nor does thy essencé fix'd depend on giddy cir


Of time or place,
Two foolish guides in ev'ry sublunary dance :

How shall we find Thee then in dark disputes ?
How shall we search Thee in a battle gain’d,

Or a weak argument by force maintain'd? In dagger contests, and th' artillery of words, (For swords are madmen's tongues, and tongues

are madmen's swords) Contriv'd to tire all patience out, And not to satisfy the doubt ?


But where is ev’n thy Image on our earth ?

For of the person much I fear, Since Heaven will claim its residence as well as

birth, And God himself has said, He shall not find it here. For this inferior world is but Heaven's dusky

shade, By dark reverted rays from its reflection made; Whence the weak shapes wild and imperfect

pass, Like sunbeams shot at too far distance from a

glass ;

Wbich all the minick forms express, Though in strangeuncouth postures, and uncomely


So when Cartesian artists try

To solve appearances of fight In its reception to the eye, And catch the living landscape through a scanty

light, * The experiment of the dark chamber, to demonstrate light to be by reception of the object, and not by emission, S.




The figures all inverted shew,

And colours of a faded hue;
Here a pale shape with upward footstep

And men seem walking on their heads;

There whole herds suspended lie,
Ready to tumble down into the sky;
Such are the ways ill-guided mortals go

To judge of things above by things below.« Disjointing shapes as in the fairy' land of dreams,

Or images that sink in streams ;
No wonder, then, we talk amiss
Of truth, and what, or where it is:

Say, Muse, for thou, if any, know'st,
Since the bright essence fled, where haunts the

reverend ghost?


If all that our weak knowledge titles virtue, be (High Truth) the best resemblance of exalted

Thee, If a mind fix'd to combat fate With those two pow'rful swords, submission and

humility, Sounds truly good, or truly great; Ill may I live, if the good Sancroft in his holy rest,

In the divin'ty of retreat,
Be not the brightest pattern earth can show

Of heav'n-born Truth below:
But foolish man still judges what is best

In his own balance, false and light,
Foll'wing opinon, dark, and blind,

That vagrant leader of the mind,
Till honesty and conscience are clear out of sight.

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