University of Virginia Library

On the Origin of the World.

Let those who for their fancy'd Godhead trace,
Thro' gen'ral Nature, or unbounded Space,
With solid Reason and Discourse explain
Th' unreal Idol of their heated Brain.
Whose Deity immers'd in Matter lies;
Refin'd and volatile thro' Space he flies:
The Proteus scorns Detection or Surprize:
The System on a vain Foundation built,
False Shame, and falser Pride, and tim'rous Guilt,
Must weakly for a wretched Safety try;
And banish, or disarm its Deity.
Fond Man! who scorns those Principles to learn
Which Faith may teach, or Reason may discern.
Ev'n unassisted Nature bids us look
On the fair Volume of her various Book,
And then inquire, if Homer's lofty Page,
Ulysses' Toils, or stern Achilles' Rage,
The Grecian Triumphs, and the Trojan Woes,
From the Result of scatter'd Letters rose.
If not, cou'd Chance the noblest Work produce
For various Beauties, and for aptest Use?
Did she, that we might see, and taste, and hear,
Contrive the Eye, the Palate, and the Ear,
And all this vast Variety around,
Of Objects visible, and Taste and Sound?
Or were they form'd, of Thought and Purpose void,
By Chance at first, and then by Chance employ'd?
And do we to combining Atoms owe
That we exist, and that we act and know?
Or shall we say this universal Frame
For ever was, and shall remain the same?
Vain Error! by th' ambiguous Samian taught;
And from the fabling Priests of Ægypt brought.
For ever did eternal Planets rise,
And set alternate in eternal Skies?
Or must a first determin'd Point be giv'n
From whence they started thro' the ambient Heav'n?
That certain Point began their vast Career;
If not they must at once be ev'ry where:
As seems the whirling Brand, when it returns
In rapid Hands and in a Circle burns.
The Revolutions of their endless Dance,
If unbegun, nor lessen, nor advance;
Were infinite a thousand Years before,
A thousand Ages hence shall be no more:
The part and whole must justly equal be,
Or infinites in Number disagree.
Yet grave Antiquity may turn the Scale,
When captious Wit, and jealous Reason fail:
Let Annals then, and Observations show
The Face of Heav'n and Earth so along go:
If Arts or Arms that ancient World cou'd boast,
How was their Fame in long Oblivion lost?
Had Floods of Fire or Insults of the Main,
Reduc'd Mankind to Savages again,
Tradition wou'd preserve the dire Event;
Or Nature wou'd retain the Monument.
No Trace remains of any that befel,
But one; of which the sacred Volumes tell.
The Miner wonders, as his Search explores
The Spoils of Ocean, mix'd with shining Ores:
Thus empty Shells on Alpine Hills are found,
Or wedg'd in Marble underneath the Ground;
Nor more distinct when on the Beach they lie,
Wash'd by the Tide, and gaping to the Sky.
To sum the Whole in one compendious View,
The Growth of Science proves the World but new:
And Arts and Empire first at Babel grew.
Here first the mighty Hunter rang'd the Plain,
Rais'd his strong Walls, and fix'd his ample Reign:
Here impious Men the brick-built Turret rear,
And wife Chaldæans watch the rolling Sphere;
Here, bright in Arms embattled Troops were seen;
And Myriads pouring round their warlike Queen.
This Greece relates; but Greece can add no more,
Till Ægypt lends her inexhausted Store.
In vain of countless Ages they may boast;
Fancy herself in that Abyss is lost:
That round of vast Eternity to feign,
The Year of Plato must return again.
Yet Faith aspires to Notions more sublime,
Distinguishing Eternity from Time:
An Attribute which he alone can claim
Who always is; and always is the same.
But grant the pre-existent Seeds were held
In fluid Principles, and Chaos veil'd,
Why ever? Why not sooner did they rise
To form material Worlds and liquid Skies?
For yet no Planet, by his genial Pow'r,
Matur'd the Mass, or fix'd the natal Hour.
But if the Birth from inbred Vigour came,
Aspiring Principles, enliv'ning Flame,
Why rose so late this beauteous useful Frame?
Why slept so long this indigested Mass?
Or Chaos still must be, or never was.
Then blush your universal Pan is found,
Or rarify'd to Space, or else in Matter drown'd.
Then own that God, whose Hand on all impress'd,
Created Matter, and with Order bless'd;
Omniscient Spirit, omnipresent Mind,
Not press'd by Matter, nor by Space confin'd:
Time, that to Man does in Succession flow,
By him is center'd in eternal now.
Cease, human Wit! for thy Attempts are vain
His infinite Duration to explain,
By bounded Notions, vanishing like thee,
Between what has, and what is still to be.
O foolish Man! by causeless Doubts misled!
By Learning blinded, and by Wit betray'd!
Whom God from nothing did so lately raise,
Is this thy Gratitude? Is this thy Praise?
Lay all thy jangling Sophisters aside,
With verbal Gloss and wand'ring Guess supply'd:
Their Search of Truth in Falshood does abound,
Shews rather how 'tis lost, than how 'tis found.
Reason exhausted with the long Dispute,
And Passion to assert, or to confute,
May all their Systems in a Word confine,
'Tis all the Fabric of a Pow'r divine.
'Tis he the Sun with genial Flames inspires
To lead the Dance of the celestial Fires;
As in proportion'd Intervals they go,
Swift in Approaches, and at Distance slow:
Or in a less, or in a wider Space,
As his attractive Force directs their Race.
'Tis he compels them in their Orbs to keep;
Tho' such an Influence turns their ample Sweep?
Then to the Book return, whence we receive
All we are bound to practise or believe:
Nor is the Book of Nature wrote more fair
Than is her Origin recorded There.
What Muse but the celestial cou'd indite
The vast and void Obscure? The Birth of Light?
Creative Spirit o'er the Waters hung?
Such were the Truths the raptur'd Shepherd sung,
Greater at Horebs blazing Foot, alone,
Than in the Prospect of the Memphian Throne.
Of sceptic Sophistry thy Mind divest;
And heav'nly Truth shall beam upon thy Breast:
But not with such do these Inquiries suit,
Whose Wit is doubting, Science to dispute.
God, rob'd in Pow'r, rebellious Pride o'erthrows,
But on the humble Heart his Grace bestows.