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exists, it is said, a philosophy That needs no revelation, but unlocks The gates with ease, that guard life's mystery, And safely steers between the dangerous rocks, Indifference and Religion. Be it so. Where are these system—makers that can find Truth without faith? It would be worth to know. Powerless sophists swelled with empty wind, What are their arguments? What authority Are they invested with? One proudly says, Two principles exist for all eternity That war on earth; by turns each strength displays, And triumphs o'er the other. One descries, Far in the solitary heavens, a god Who cares not, infinitely great and wise, For human altars, or for man—a clod. Pythagoras and Leibnitz think souls change; Descartes forsakes us in the whirlwind's breast; Montaigne inquires, but nothing can arrange; Pascal his own dream flies, by fear possessed; Pyrrho doubts all, and deems our natures blind; Zeno makes us insensible; Voltaire Throws down whatever stands with furious mind; Spinosa leaves his subject in despair: Searching in vain, he sees God everywhere, Or deems he sees; the metaphysician Locke