A Night Prospect

WRITTEN ON LINCOLN HEATH , 1751

[ FROM THE MSS. ]

N IGH are the rising spires of Lamplugh's fane,
Stateliest of Gothic fabrics; and the crags
Of ruins glimmer: every zephyr brings
Into my ears the slow deep-swelling toll
Of the great curfew. So, the traveller,
On Lindum's heath, secure, may bate his pace,
Pleased with the mild descent of purple night;
While o'er the circles of her solemn vault,
Eternal Wisdom with almighty hand
Rolls worlds and worlds. Behold those glittering stars,
And open all thy mind to think the space,
Hence to each orb, that makes such glorious suns
So small appear! Their moons and earths, like ours,
Which round them move, are lost to ardent sight;
So vast extends the distance! Yet on those
Planets, to us invisible, are spread
Europes and Asias, regions not unlike
To those we act on. Hark, ye things of pride!
God, ever gracious, sends his suns abroad
To light, and cheer, and bless more realms and worlds,
Than folly's narrow thought can reach to damn.