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22 And inquisition of the forge.—We know, Th' illustrious Deliverer of mankind, , thee foil'd.—Him in thy pow'r Thou could'st not hold:—self-vigorous he rose, And, shaking off thy setters, soon retook Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent; (Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall;) Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth, And shew'd himself alive to chosen Witnesses, By proof so strong, that the most slow assenting Had not a scruple left.—This having done, He mounted up do heav'n.—Methinks I see him Climb the ærial heights, and glide along Athwart severing clouds; but the faint eye, Flung backwards in the chace, soon drops its hold; Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing. Heav'n's portals wide expand to let him in; Nor are his friends shut out; as some great Prince Not for himself alone procures admission, But for his train;—It was his Royal will, That where he is, there should his followers be. Death only lies between—a gloomy path! Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears; But not untrod, nor tedious; the fatigue Will soon go off. Besides there's no by-road To bliss.—Then why, like ill-condition'd children, Start we at transient hardships in the way That leads to purer air, and softer skies, And a ne'er setting sun!—Fools that we are! We wish to be, where Sweets unwithering, bloom; But straight our wish revoke, and will not go. So have I seen upon a summer's ev'n, Fast by the riv'let's brink, a Youngster play; How wishfully he looks to stem the tide! This moment resolute, next unresolv'd; At last he dips his foot; but as he dips, His fears redouble, and he runs away