To call man mortal. Man's mortality Was then transferr'd to death; and heaven's duration Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame, This child of dust--Man, all-immortal! hail; Hail, Heaven! all lavish of strange gifts to man! Thine all the glory; man's the boundless bliss. 300 Where am I rapt by this triumphant theme? On Christian joy's exulting wing, above Th' Aonian mount?--Alas! small cause for joy! What if to pain immortal? if extent Of being, to preclude a close of woe? Where, then, my boast of immortality? I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt; For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd; 'Tis guilt alone can justify his death; Nor that, unless his death can justify 310 Relenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight. If, sick of folly, I relent; he writes My name in heaven with that inverted spear (A spear deep-dipp'd in blood!) which pierced his side, And open'd there a font for all mankind, Who strive, who combat crimes, to drink, and live: This, only this, subdues the fear of death. And what is this?--Survey the wondrous cure: And at each step, let higher wonder rise! "Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon 320 Through means that speak its value infinite! A pardon bought with blood! with blood divine! With blood divine of Him I made my foe! Persisted to provoke! though woo'd and awed, Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still! 325 A rebel, 'midst the thunders of his throne! Nor I alone! a rebel universe! My species up in arms! not one exempt! Yet for the foulest of the foul, he dies, Most joy'd, for the redeem'd from deepest guilt! As if our race were held of highest rank; And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man!" 332 Bound, every heart! and every bosom, burn! O what a scale of miracles is here! Its lowest round, high planted on the skies; Its towering summit lost beyond the thought Of man or angel! O that I could climb The wonderful ascent, with equal praise! Praise! flow for ever (if astonishment Will give thee leave) my praise! for ever flow; 340 Praise ardent, cordial, constant, to high Heaven More fragrant, than Arabia sacrificed, And all her spicy mountains in a flame. So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, With her soft plume (from plausive angel's wing First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears, Thus diving in the pockets of the great? Is praise the perquisite of every paw, Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold? O love of gold! thou meanest of amours! 350 Shall praise her odours waste on Virtue's dead, Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, Earn dirty bread by washing AEthiops fair, Removing filth, or sinking it from sight, A scavenger in scenes, where vacant posts,