The schools astonish'd stood; but found it vain
To combat ftill with demonstration strong,
And, unawaken'd dream beneath the blaze
Of truth. At once their pleafing visions fled,
With the gay fhadows of the morning mix'd,
When Newton rofe, our philofophic fun.

Th' aërial flow of found was known to him,
From whence it first in wavy circles breaks,
Till the touch'd organ takes the message in.
Nor could the darting beam of speed immense,
Escape his fwift purfuit, and measuring eye.
Ev'n light itself, which every thing difplays,
Shone undiscover'd, till his brighter mind
Untwisted all the fhining robe of day;
And, from the whitening undistinguish'd blaze,
Collecting every ray into his kind,

To the charm'd eye educ'd the gorgeous train
Of parent-colours. Firft the flaming red
Sprung vivid forth; the tawny orange next;
And next delicious yellow; by whose fide
Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green.
Then the pure blue, that swells autumnal skies,
Ethereal play'd; and then, of fadder hue,
Emerg'd the deepen'd indico, as when
The heavy-fkirted evening droops with froft.
While the last gleamings of refracted light
Dy'd in the fainting violet away.

Thefe, when the clouds distil the rosy shower,
Shine out distinct adown the watery bow;
While o'er our heads the dewy vision bends

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Delightful,

To the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWton. 161 Delightful, melting on the fields beneath.

Myriads of mingling dyes from these refult,

And myriads still remain; infinite fource
Of beauty, ever-blushing, ever-new!
Did ever poet image aught so fair,

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Dreaming in whispering groves, by the hoarfe brook!
Or prophet, to whofe rapture heaven defcends!
Ev'n now the setting fun and fhifting clouds,
Seen, Greenwich, from thy lovely heights, declare
How juft, how beauteous, the refractive law.

The noiseless tide of time, all bearing down To vaft eternity's unbounded fea,

Where the green islands of the happy shine,

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He stemm'd alone; and to the fource (involv'd
Deep in primeval gloom) ascending, rais'd
His lights at equal distances, to guide
Hiftorian, wilder'd on his darksome way.

But who can number up his labours? who

His high discoveries fing? when but a few

Of the deep-studying race can stretch their minds
To what he knew :" in fancy's lighter thought,
How fhall the Muse then grasp the mighty theme?
What wonder thence that his devotion fwell'd
Refponfive to his knowledge! For could he,
Whose piercing mental eye diffufive faw
The finish'd univerfity of things,

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In all its order, magnitude, and parts,

Forbear inceffant to adore that power

Who fills, fuftains, and actuates the whole?
Say, ye who beft can tell, ye happy few,

VOL. II.

M

Who

Who faw him in the softest lights of life,
All unwithheld, indulging to his friends
The vaft unborrow'd treasures of his mind,

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Oh, fpeak the wondrous man! how mild, how calm,
How greatly humble, how divinely good;
How firm eftablish'd on eternal truth;
Fervent in doing well, with every nerve
Still preffing on, forgetful of the past,
And panting for perfection: far above
Thofe little cares, and vifionary joys,
That to perplex the fond impaffion'd heart
Of ever-cheated, ever-trufting man.

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And you, ye hopeless gloomy-minded tribe, You who, unconfcious of those nobler flights That reach impatient at immortal life,

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Against the prime endearing privilege
Of being dare contend, fay, can a foul
Of fuch extenfive, deep, tremendous powers,
Enlarging fill, be but a finer breath

Of fpirits dancing through their tubes awhile,
And then for ever loft in vacant air?

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But, hark! methinks I hear a warning voice, Solemn as when fome aweful change is come, Sound through the world-'Tis done-The measure's full; And I refign my charge.-Ye mouldering stones, That build the towering pyramid, the proud Triumphal arch, the monument effac'd By ruthlefs ruin, and whate'er supports The worship name of hoar antiquity,

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Down to the dust! what grandeur can ye boast

To the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWTON.
While Newton lifts his column to the skies,
Beyond the waste of time. Let no weak drop
Be fhed for him. The virgin in her bloom
Cut off, the joyous youth, and darling child,
Thefe are the tombs that claim the tender tear,
And elegiac fong. But Newton calls

For other notes of gratulation high,

That now he wanders through thofe endless worlds
He here fo well defcried, and wondering talks,
And hymns their author with his glad compeers.

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O, Britain's boast! whether with angels thou

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Sitteft in dread difcourfe, or fellow-bleft,
Who joy to fee the honour of their kind ;
Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing,
Thy swift career is with the whirling orbs,
Comparing things with things, in rapture lost,
And grateful adoration, for that light
So plenteous ray'd into thy mind below,
From Light himself; oh, look with pity down
On human-kind, a frail erroneous race!
Exalt the fpirit of a downward world!
O'er thy dejected country chief preside,
And be her Genius call'd! her ftudies raife,
Correct her manners, and inspire her youth.
For, though deprav'd and funk, fhe brought thee forth,
And glories in thy name; fhe points thee out
To all her fons, and bids them eye thy ftar:
While, in expectance of the fecond life,
When time fhall be no more, thy facred duft
Sleeps with her kings, and dignifies the fcene.
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A POEM

A POEM

To the Memory of the Right Hon. Lord TALBOT, Lord Chancellor of Great-Britain. Addreffed to his SON.

W

HILE, with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father loft; permit the Muse,
The Mufe affign'd of old a double theme,
To praise dead worth, and humble living pride,
Whofe generous task begins where interest ends,
Permit her on a Talbot's tomb to lay

This cordial verfe fincere, by truth inspir'd,
Which means not to beflow, but borrow fame.
Yes, the may fing his matchlefs virtues now-
Unhappy that she may.-But where begin?
How from the diamond fingle out each ray,
Where all, though trembling with ten thousand hues,
Effufe one dazzling undivided light?

Let the low-minded of these narrow days

No more prefume to deem the lofty tale
Of ancient times, in pity to their own,
Romance. In Talbot we united faw

The piercing eye, the quick enlighten'd foul,
The graceful ease, the flowing tongue of Greece,
Join'd to the virtues and the force of Rome.

Eternal Wisdom, that all-quickening fun,
Whence every life, in juft proportion, draws
Directing light and actuating flame,
Ne'er with a larger portion of its beams

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Awaken'd