In the coarse drudgeries, and sinks of Sense, 1213 Your souls have quite worn out the make of Heaven, By vice new-cast, and creatures of your own: But though you can deform, you can't destroy; To curse, not uncreate, is all your power. Lorenzo! this black brotherhood renounce; Renounce St Evremont, and read St Paul. Ere rapt by miracle, by Reason wing'd, 1220 His mounting mind made long abode in heaven. This is freethinking, unconfined to parts, To send the soul, on curious travel bent, Through all the provinces of human thought; To dart her flight, through the whole sphere of man; Of this vast universe to make the tour; In each recess of space, and time, at home; Familiar with their wonders; diving deep; And, like a prince of boundless interests there, Still most ambitious of the most remote; 1230 To look on truth unbroken, and entire; Truth in the system, the full orb; where truths By truths enlighten'd, and sustain'd, afford An arch-like, strong foundation, to support Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete Conviction; here, the more we press, we stand More firm; who most examine, most believe. Parts, like half sentences, confound; the whole Conveys the sense, and God is understood; Who not in fragments writes to human race: 1240 Read his whole volume, sceptic! then reply. This, this, is thinking free, a thought that grasps Beyond a grain, and looks beyond an hour. Turn up thine eye, survey this midnight scene; What are earth's kingdoms, to yon boundless orbs, Of human souls, one day, the destined range? And what yon boundless orbs, to godlike man? 1247 Those numerous worlds that throng the firmament, And ask more space in heaven, can roll at large In man's capacious thought, and still leave room For ampler orbs, for new creations, there. Can such a soul contract itself, to gripe A point of no dimension, of no weight? 1253 It can; it does: the world is such a point; And, of that point, how small a part enslaves! How small a part--of nothing, shall I say? Why not?--Friends, our chief treasure! how they drop! Lucia,[39] Narcissa fair, Philander, gone! The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has oped A triple mouth; and, in an awful voice, 1260 Loud calls my soul, and utters all I sing. How the world falls to pieces round about us, And leaves us in a ruin of our joy! What says this transportation of my friends? It bids me love the place where now they dwell, And scorn this wretched spot, they leave so poor. Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee; There, there, Lorenzo! thy Clarissa sails. Give thy mind sea-room; keep it wide of earth, That rock of souls immortal; cut thy cord; 1270 Weigh anchor; spread thy sails; call every wind;