But why more woe? More comfort let it be. 40 Nothing is dead, but that which wish'd to die; Nothing is dead, but wretchedness and pain; Nothing is dead, but what encumber'd, gall'd, Block'd up the pass, and barr'd from real life. Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wise? Too dark the sun to see it; highest stars Too low to reach it; Death, great Death alone, O'er stars and sun, triumphant, lands us there. Nor dreadful our transition; though the mind, An artist at creating self-alarms, 50 Rich in expedients for inquietude, Is prone to paint it dreadful. Who can take 52 Death's portrait true? The tyrant never sat. Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all; Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single tale. Death, and his image rising in the brain, Bear faint resemblance; never are alike; Fear shakes the pencil; Fancy loves excess; Dark Ignorance is lavish of her shades: And these the formidable picture draw. 60 But grant the worst; 'tis past; new prospects rise; And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. Far other views our contemplation claim, Views that o'erpay the rigours of our life; Views that suspend our agonies in death. Wrapt in the thought of immortality, Wrapt in the single, the triumphant thought! Long life might lapse, age unperceived come on; And find the soul unsated with her theme. Its nature, proof, importance, fire my song. 70 O that my song could emulate my soul! Like her, immortal. No!--the soul disdains A mark so mean; far nobler hope inflames; If endless ages can outweigh an hour, Let not the laurel, but the palm, inspire. Thy nature, Immortality! who knows? And yet who knows it not? It is but life In stronger thread of brighter colour spun, And spun for ever; dipp'd by cruel Fate In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here! 80 How short our correspondence with the sun! And while it lasts, inglorious! Our best deeds, How wanting in their weight! our highest joys Small cordials to support us in our pain, And give us strength to suffer. But how great To mingle interests, converse, amities, 86 With all the sons of Reason, scatter'd wide Through habitable space, wherever born, Howe'er endow'd! to live free citizens Of universal nature! to lay hold By more than feeble faith on the Supreme! To call heaven's rich unfathomable mines (Mines, which support archangels in their state) 93 Our own! To rise in science, as in bliss, Initiate in the secrets of the skies! To read creation; read its mighty plan In the bare bosom of the Deity! The plan, and execution, to collate! To see, before each glance of piercing thought, All cloud, all shadow, blown remote; and leave 100