Here, to thy own unquestionable theme, O fair, O graceful, bend thy polish'd brow, Assenting; and the gladness of thy eyes Impart to me, like morning's wished light Seen through the vernal air. By yonder stream, Where beech and elm along the bordering mead Send forth wild melody from every bough, Together let us wander; where the hills Cover'd with fleeces to the lowing vale Reply; where tidings of content and peace Each echo brings. Lo, how the western Sun O'er fields and floods, e'er every living soul, Diffseth glad repose! There while I speak Of Beauty's honours, thou, Melissa, thou Shalt hearken, not unconscious. While I tell How first from Heaven she came: how after all The works of life, the elemental scenes, The hours, the seasons, she had oft explor'd, At length her favourite mansion and her throne She fix'd in woman's form: what pleasing ties To virtue bind her; what effectual aid They lend each other's power; and how divine Their union, should some ambitious maid, To all the enchantment of the Idalian queen, Add sanct.ty and wisdom: while my tongue Prolongs the tale, Melissa, thou may'st feign To wonder whence my rapture is inspir'd; But soon the smile which dawns upon thy lip Shall tell it, and the tenderer bloom o'er all That soft cheek springing to the marble neck, Which bends aside in vain, revealing more What it would then keep silent, and in vain The sense of praise dissembling. Then my song Great Nature's winning arts, which thus inform With joy and love the rugged breast of man, Should sound in numbers worthy of such a theme: While all whose souls have ever felt the force Of those enchanting passions, to my lyre Should throng attentive, and receive once more Their influence, unobscur'd by any cloud Of vulgar care, and purer than the hand Of Fortune can bestow; nor, to confirm Their sway, should awful Contemplation scorn To join his dictates to the genuine strain Of Pleasure's tongue; nor yet should Pleasure's ear Be much averse. Ye chiefly, gentle band Of youths and virgins, who through many a wish And many a fond pursuit, as in some scene Of magic bright and fleeting, are allur'd By various beauty; if the pleasing toil Can yield a moment's respite, hither turn Your favourable ear, and trust my words. I do not mean, on bless'd Religion's seat Presenting Superstition's gloomy form, To dash your soothing hopes: I do not mean To bid the jealous thunderer fire the Heavens, Or shapes infernal rend the groaning Earth, And scare you from your joys. My cheerful song With happier omens calls you to the field, Pleas'd with your generous ardour in the chase, And warm like you. Then tell me (for ye know) Doth Beauty ever deign to dwell where use And aptitude are strangers? is her praise Confess'd in aught whose most peculiar ends Are lame and fruitless? or did Nature mean This pleasing call the herald of a lie,
To hide the shame of discord and disease, And win each fond admirer into snares, Foil'd, baffled? No. With better providence The general mother, conscious how infirm
Her offspring tread the paths of good and ill, Thus, to the choice of credulous desire, Doth objects the completest of their tribe Distinguish and commend. Yon flowery bank, Cloth'd in the soft magnificence of Spring, Will not the flocks approve it? will they ask The reedy fen for pasture? That clear rill, Which trickleth murmuring from the mossy rock, Yields it less wholesome beverage to the worn And thirsty traveller, than the standing pool With muddy weeds o'ergrown? Yon ragged vine, Whose lean and sullen clusters mourn the rage Of Eurus, will the wine-press or the bowl Report of her, as of the swelling grape Which glitters through the tendrils, like a gem When first it meets the Sun? Or what are all The various charms to life and sense adjoin'd? Are they not pledges of a state entire, Where native order reigns, with every part In health, and every function well perform'd?
Thus then at first was Beauty sent from Heaven, The lovely ministress of Truth and Good
In this dark world. For Truth and Good are one; And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her With like participation. Wherefore then, O sons of Earth, would ye dissolve the tie? O! wherefore with a rash and greedy aim Seek ye to rove through every flattering scene Which Beauty seems to deck, nor once inquire Where is the suffrage of eternal Truth, Or where the seal of undeceitful Good, To save your search from folly? Wanting these, Lo, Beauty withers in your void embrace; And with the glittering of an idiot's toy Did Fancy mock your vows. Nor yet let Hope, That kindliest inmate of the youthful breast, Be hence appall'd; be turn'd to coward Sloth, Sitting in silence, with dejected eyes Incurious, and with folded hands. Far less Let scorn of wild fantastic Folly's dreams, Or hatred of the bigot's savage pride, Persuade you e'er that Beauty, or the love Which waits on Beauty, may not brook to hear The sacred lore of undeceitful Good And Truth eternal. From the vulgar crowd Though Superstition, tyranness abhorr'd, The reverence due to this majestic pair With threats and execration still demands; Though the tame wretch, who asks of her the way To their celestial dwelling, she constrains To quench or set at nought the lamp of God Within his frame; through many a cheerless wild Though forth she leads him credulous and dark, And aw'd with dubious notion; though at length Haply she plunge him into cloister'd cells, And mansions unrelenting as the grave, But void of quiet, there to watch the hours Of midnight; there, amid the screaming owl's Dire song, with spectres or with guilty shades To talk of pangs and everlasting woe; Yet be not ye dismay'd. A gentler star Presides o'er your adventure. From the bower Where Wisdom sate with her Athenian sons, Could but my happy hand entwine a wreath Of Plato's olive with the Mantuan bay, Then (for what need of cruel fear to you, To you whom godlike love can well command ?) Then should my powerful voice at once dispel Those monkish horrours; should in words divine Relate how favour'd minds like you inspir'd,
And taught their inspiration to conduct
And woman powerful with becoming smiles, By ruling Heaven's decree, through various walks Chief of terrestrial natures; need we now And prospects various, but delightful all,
Move onward; while now myrtle groves appear, Now arms and radiant trophies, now the rods Of empire with the curule throne, or now The domes of contemplation and the Muse. Led by that hope sublime, whose cloudless eye Through the fair toils and ornaments of Earth Discerns the nobler life reserv'd for Heaven, Favour'd alike they worship round the shrine Where Truth conspicuous with her sister-twins, The undivided partners of her sway,
With Good and Beauty reigns. O! let not us By Pleasure's lying blandishments detain'd, Or crouching to the frowns of bigot Rage, O! let not us one moment pause to join That chosen band. And if the gracious power, Who first awaken'd my untutor'd song, Will to my invocation grant anew
The tuneful spirit, then through all our paths Ne'er shall the sound of this devoted lyre Be wanting; whether on the rosy mead When Summer smiles, to warn the melting heart Of luxury's allurement; whether firm Against the torrent and the stubborn hill To urge free Virtue's steps, and to her side Summon that strong divinity of soul
Which conquers Chance and Fate: or on the height, The goal assign'd her, haply to proclaim Her triumph; on her brow to place the crown Of uncorrupted praise; through future worlds To follow her interminated way, And bless Heaven's image in the heart of man. Such is the worth of Beauty: such her power, So blameless, so rever'd. It now remains, In just gradation through the various ranks Of being, to contemplate how her gifts Rise in due measure, watchful to attend The steps of rising Nature. Last and least, In colours mingling with a random blaze, Doth Beauty dwell. Then higher in the forms Of simplest, easiest measure; in the bounds Of circle, cube, or sphere. The third ascent To symmetry adds colour: thus the pearl Shines in the concave of its purple bed, And painted shells along some winding shore Catch with indented folds the glancing Sun. Next as we rise, appear the blooming tribes Which clothe the fragrant Earth; which draw from
Their own nutrition; which are born, and die; Yet, in their seed, immortal; such the flowers With which young Maia pays the village-maids That hail her natal morn; and such the groves Which blithe Pomona rears on Vaga's bank, To feed the bowl of Ariconian swains, Who quaff beneath her branches. Nobler still Is Beauty's name where, to the full consent Of members and of features, to the pride Of colour, and the vital change of growth, Life's holy flame with piercing sense is given, While active motion speaks the temper'd soul: So moves the bird of Juno: so the steed With rival swiftness beats the dusty plain, And faithful dogs with eager airs of joy Salute their fellows. What sublimer pomp Atoms the seat where Virtue dwells on Earth, And Truth's eternal day-light shines around; What palm belongs to man's imperial front,
Strive to inculcate? Thus hath Beauty there Her most conspicuous praise to Matter lent, Where most conspicuous through that shadowy veil Breaks forth the bright expression of a mind: By steps directing our enraptur'd search To him, the first of minds; the chief, the sole; From whom, through this wide, complicated world, Did a her various lineaments begin;
To whom alone, consenting and entire, At once their mutual influence all display. He, God most high (bear witness, Earth and Heaven) The living fountains in himself contains Of beauteous and sublime. With him enthron'd Ere days or years trod their ethereal way, In his supreme intelligence enthron'd, The queen of love holds her unclouded state, Urania. Thee, O Father, this extent
Of matter; thee the sluggish earth and tract Of seas, the heavens and heavenly splendours feel Pervading, quickening, moving. From the depth Of thy great essence, forth didst theu conduct Eternal Form; and there, where Chaos reign'd, Gav'st her dominion to erect her seat, And sanctify the mansion. All her works, Well pleas'd, thou didst behold. The gloomy fires Of storm or earthquake, and the purest light Of Summer; soft Campania's new-born rose, And the slow weed, which pines on Russian hills, Comely alike to thy full vision stand: To thy surrounding vision, which unites All essences and powers of the great world In one sole order, fair alike they stand, As features well consenting, and alike Requir'd by Nature, ere she could attain Her just resemblance to the perfect shape Of universal Beauty, which with thee Dwelt from the first. Thou also, ancient Mind, Whom love and free beneficence await
In all thy doings; to inferior Minds, Thy offspring, and to Man, thy youngest son, Refusing no convenient gift nor good; Their eyes didst open, in this Earth, yon Heaven, Those starry worlds, the countenance divine Of Beauty to behold. But not to them Didst thou her awful magnitude reveal, -Such as before thine own unbounded sight She stands; (for never shall created soul Conceive that object) nor, to all their kinds, The same in shape or features didst thou frame Her image. Measuring well their different spheres Of sense and action, thy paternal hand Hath for each race prepar'd a different test Of beauty, own'd and reverenc'd as their guide Most apt, most faithful. Thence inform'd, they scan The objects that surround them; and select, Since the great whole disclaims their scanty view, Each for himself selects peculiar parts Of Nature; what the standard fix'd by Heaven Within his breast approves: acquiring thus A partial beauty, which becomes his lot; A beauty which his eye may comprehend, His hand may copy: leaving, O supreme, O thou whom none hath utter'd, leaving all To thee that infinite, consummate form, Which the great powers, the gods around thy throne And nearest to thy counsels, know with thee For ever to have been; but who she is, Or what her likeness, know not.
À narrower scene, where, by the mix'd effect Of things corporeal on his passive mind, He judgeth what is fair. Corporeal things The mind of man impell with various powers, And various features to his eye disclose.
The powers which move his sense with instant joy, The features which attract his heart to love, He marks, combines, reposits. Other powers And features of the self-same thing (unless The beauteous form, the creature of his mind, Request their close alliance) he o'erlooks Forgotten; or with self-beguiling zeal, Whene'er his passions mingle in the work, Half alters, half disowns. The tribes of men Thus from their different functions and the shapes Familiar to their eye, with art obtain, Unconscious of their purpose, yet with art Obtain the beauty fitting man to love: Whose proud desires from Nature's homely toil Oft turn away, fastidious: asking still His mind's high aid, to purify the form From matter's gross communion; to secure For ever, from the meddling hand of change Or rude decay, her features; and to add Whatever ornaments may suit her mien, Where'er he finds them scatter'd through the paths Of Nature or of Fortune. Then he seats The accomplish'd image deep within his breast, Reviews it, and accounts it good and fair.
Thus the one beauty of the world entire, The universal Venus, far beyond The keenest effort of created eyes,
And their most wide horizon, dwells enthron'd In ancient silence. At her footstool stands An altar burning with eternal fire Unsullied, unconsum'd. Here every hour, Here every moment, in their turns arrive Her offspring; an innumerable band Of sisters, comely all; but differing far In age, in stature, and expressive mien, More than bright Helen from her new-born babe. To this maternal shrine in turns they come, Each with her sacred lamp; that from the source Of living flame, which here immortal flows, Their portions of its lustre they may draw For days, or months, or years; for ages, some; As their great parent's discipline requires. Then to their several mansions they depart, In stars, in planets, through the unknown shores Of yon ethereal ocean. Who can tell, Even on the surface of this rolling Earth, How many make abode? The fields, the groves, The winding rivers, and the azure main, Are render'd solemn by their frequent feet, Their rites sublime. There each her destin'd home Informs with that pure radiance from the skies Brought down, and shines throughout her little sphere,
Exulting. Straight, as travellers by night Turn towards a distant flame, so some fit eye, Among the various tenants of the scene, Discerns the heaven-born phantom seated there, And owns her charms. Hence the wide universe, Through all the seasons of revolving worlds, Bears witness with its people, gods and men, To Beauty's blissful bower, and with the voice Of grateful admiration still resounds: That voice, to which is Beauty's frame divine, As is the cunning of the master's hand To the sweet accent of the well-tun'd lyre.
Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps Have led us to these awful solitudes Of Nature and of Science; nurse rever'd Of generous counsels and heroic deeds; O! let some portion of thy matchless praise Dwell in my breast, and teach me to adorn This unattempted theme. Nor be my thoughts Presumptuous counted, if amid the calm Which Hesper sheds along the vernal Heaven, If I, from vulgar Superstition's walk, Impatient steal, and from the unseemly rites Of splendid Adulation, to attend
With hymns thy presence in the sylvan shade, By their malignant footsteps unprofan'd. Come, O renowned power; thy glowing mien Such, and so elevated all thy form, As when the great barbaric lord, again And yet again diminish'd, hid his face Among the herd of satraps and of kings; And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear, Crouch'd like a slave. Bring all thy martial spoils, Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs, Thy smiling band of arts, thy godlike sires Of civil wisdom, thy unconquer'd youth After some glorious day rejoicing round Their new-erected trophy. Guide my feet Through fair Lyceum's walk, the olive shades Of Academus, and the sacred vale
Haunted by steps divine, where once beneath That ever-living platane's ample boughs Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain'd,
On his neglected urn attentive lay;
While Boreas, lingering on the neighbouring steep With beauteous Orithyia, his love-tale
In silent awe suspended. There let me With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields, Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn My native clime: while, far beyond the meed Of Fancy's toil aspiring, I unlock
The springs of ancient Wisdom: while I add (What cannot be disjoin'd from Beauty's praise) Thy name and native dress, thy works belov'd And honour'd: while to my compatriot youth I point the great example of thy sons, And tune to Attic themes the British lyre,
PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. BOOK II.
INTRODUCTION to this more difficult part of the subject. Of truth and its three classes, matter of fact, experimental or scientifical truth, (contradistinguished from opinion) and universal truth: which last is either metaphysical or geometrical, either purely intellectual or perfectly abstracted. On the power of discerning truth depends that of acting with the view of an end; a circunstance essential to virtue. Of virtue considered in the divine mind as a perpetual and universal beneficence. Of human virtue, considered as a system of particular sentiments and actions,
suitable to the design of Providence and the con- | dition of man; to whom it constitutes the chief good and the first beauty. Of vice and its origin. Of ridicule: its general nature and final cause. Of the passions; particularly of those which relate to evil, natural or moral, and which are generally accounted painful, though not always unattended with pleasure.
THUS far of Beauty and the pleasing forms Which man's untutor'd fancy, from the scenes Imperfect of this ever-changing world, Creates; and views, enamour'd. Now my song Severer themes demand: mysterious truth; And virtue, sovran good: the spells, the trains, The progeny of errour: the dreadful sway Of passion; and whatever hidden stores From her own lofty deeds and from herself The mind acquires. Severer argument: Not less attractive; nor deserving less
A constant ear. For what are all the forms Educ'd by fancy from corporeal things, Greatness, or pomp, or symmetry of parts? Not tending to the heart, soon feeble grows, As the blunt arrow 'gainst the knotty trunk, Their impulse on the sense: while the pali'd eye Expects in vain its tribute; asks in vain, Where are the ornaments it once admir'd? Not so the moral species, nor the powers Of passion and of thought. The ambitious mind With objects boundless as her own desires Can there converse: by these unfading forms Touch'd and awaken'd still, with eager act She bends each nerve, and meditates well-pleas'd Her gifts, her godlike fortune. Such the scenes Now opening round us. May the destin'd verse Maintain its equal tenour, though in tracts Obscure and arduous! May the source of light, All-present, all-sufficient, guide our steps Through every maze: and whom in childish years From the loud throng, the beaten paths of wealth And power, thou didst apart send forth to speak In tuneful words concerning highest things, Him still do thou, O Father, at those hours Of pensive freedom, when the human sonl Shuts out the rumour of the world, him still Touch thou with secret lessons: call thou back Fach erring thought; and let the yielding strains From his full bosom, like a welcome rill Spontaneous from its healthy fountain, flow!
But from what name, what favourable sign, What heavenly auspice, rather shall I date My perilous excursion, than from Truth, That nearest inmate of the human soul; Estrang'd from whom, the countenance divine Of man disfigur'd and dishonour'd sinks Among inferior things? For to the brutes Perception and the transient boons of sense Hath Fate imparted: but to man alone Of sublunary beings was it given Each fleeting impulse on the sensual powers At leisure to review; with equal eye Tu scan the passion of the stricken nerve Or the vague object striking: to conduct From sense, the portal turbulent and loud, Into the mind's wide palace one by one The frequent, pressing, fluctuating forms,
Their birth and fortunes; how allied they haunt The avenues of sense: what laws direct Their union; and what various discords rise, Or fix'd or casual: which when his clear thought Retains, and when his faithful words express, That living image of the external scene, As in a polish'd mirror held to view, Is Truth: where'er it varies from the shape And hue of its exemplar, in that part Dim Errour lurks. Moreover, from without, When oft the same society of forms
In the same order have approach'd his mind, He deigns no more their steps with curious heed To trace; no more their features or their garb He now examines; but of them and their Condition, as with some diviner's tongue, Affirms what Heaven in every distant place, Through every future season, will decree. This too is truth: where'er his prudent lips Wait till experience, diligent and slow, Has authoriz'd their sentence, this is truth; A second, higher kind: the parent this Of Science; or the lofty power herself, Science herself: on whom the wants and cares Of social life depend; the substitute Of God's own wisdom in this toilsome world; The providence of man. Yet oft in vain, To earn her aid, with fix'd and anxious eye He looks on Nature's and on Fortune's course: Too much in vain. His duller visual ray The stillness and the persevering acts Of Nature oft elude; and Fortune oft, With step fantastic, from her wonted walk Turns into mazes dim. His sight is foil'd; And the crude sentence of his faltering tongue. Is but Opinion's verdict, half believ'd And prone to change. Here thou, who feel'st thine ear Congenial to my lyre's profounder tone, Pause, and be watchful. Hitherto the stores, Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, Partake the relish of their native soil, Their parent Earth. But know, a nobler dower Her sire at birth decreed her; purer gifts From his own treasure; forms which never deign'd In eyes or cars to dwell, within the sense Of earthly organs; but sublime were plac'd In his essential reason, leading there That vast ideal host which all his works Through endless ages never will reveal. Thus then endow'd, the feeble creature man, The slave of hunger, and the prey of Death, Even now, even here, in Earth's dim prison bound The language of intelligence divine Attains; repeating oft concerning one And many, past and present, parts and whole, Those sovereign dictates which in furthest Heaven, Where no orb rowls, Eternity's fix'd ear Hears from coeval Truth, when Chance nor Change, Nature's loud progeny, nor Nature's self, Dares intermeddle or approach her throne. Ere long, o'er this corporeal world he learns To extend her sway; while calling from the deep, From earth and air, their multitudes untold Of figures and of motions round his walk, For each wide family some single birth He sets in view, the impartial type of all Its brethren; suffering it to claim, beyond Their common heritage, no private gift, No proper fortune. Then whate'er his eye
And question and compare them. Thus he learns In this discerns, bis bold unerring tongue
Pronounceth of the kindred, without bound, Without condition. Such the rise of forms Sequester'd far from sense and every spot Peculiar in the realms of space or time: Such is the throne which man for Truth amid The paths of mutability hath built
Secure, unshaken, still; and whence he views In matter's mouldering structures, the pure forms Of triangle or circle, cube or cone, Impassive all; whose attributes nor force Nor fate can alter. There he first conceives True being, and an intellectual world
The same this hour and ever. Thence he deems Of his own lot; above the painted shapes That fleeting move o'er this terrestrial scene Looks up; beyond the adamantine gates Of Death expatiates; as his birthright claims Inheritance in all the works of God; Prepares for endless time his plan of life, And counts the universe itself his home.
Whence also but from truth, the light of minds, Is human fortune gladden'd with the rays Of virtue? with the moral colours thrown On every walk of this our social scene, Adorning for the eye of gods and men The passions, action, habitudes of life,
And rendering Earth like Heaven, a sacred place, Where Love and Praise may take delight to dwell? Let none with heedless tongue from Truth disjoin The reign of Virtue. Fre the day-spring flow'd, Like sisters link'd in Concord's golden chain, They stood before the great eternal Mind, Their common parent; and by him were both Sent forth among his creatures, hand in hand, Inseparably join'd: nor e'er did Truth Find an apt ear to listen to her lore, Which knew not Virtue's voice; nor, save where Majestic words are heard and understood, Doth Virtue deign to inhabit. Go, inquire Of Nature: not among Tartarian rocks, Whither the hungry vulture with its prey Returns: not where the lion's sullen roar At noon resounds along the lonely banks Of ancient Tigris: but her gentler scenes, The dove-cote and the shepherd's fold at morn, Consult; or by a meadow's fragrant hedge, In spring-time, when the woodlands first are green, Attend the linnet singing to his mate,
Couch'd o'er their tender young. To this fond care Thou dost not Virtue's honourable name Attribute: wherefore, save that not one gleam Of truth did e'er discover to themselves Their little hearts, or teach them, by the effects Of that parental love, the love itself To judge, and measure its officious deeds? But man, whose eyelids truth has fill'd with day, Discerns how skilfully to bounteous ends His wise affections move; with free accord Adopts their guidance; yields himself secure To Nature's prudent impulse; and converts Instinct to duty and to sacred law.
Hence right and fit on Earth: while thus to man The Almighty Legislator hath explain'd The springs of action fix'd within his breast; Hath given him power to slacken or restrain Their effort; and bath shown him how they join Their partial movements with the master-wheel Of the great world, and serve that sacred end Which he, the merring reason, keeps in view. For mortal tongue may speak of him
And his dread ways) even as his boundless eye, Connecting every form and every change, Beholds the perfect beauty; so his will, Through every hour producing good to all The family of creatures, is itself
The perfect virtue. Let the grateful swain Remember this, as oft with joy and praise He looks upon the falling dews which clothe His lawns with verdure, and the tender seed Nourish within his furrows: when between Dead seas and burning skies, where long unmov'd The bark had languish'd, now a rustling gale Lifts o'er the fickle waves her dancing prow, Let the glad pilot, bursting out in thanks, Remember this: lest blind o'erweening pride Pollute their offerings: lest their selfish heart Say to the heavenly ruler, "At our call Relents thy power: by us thy arm is mov'd." Fools! who of God as of each other deem: Who his invariable acts deduce From sudden counsels transient as their own; Nor further of his bounty, than the event Which haply meets their loud and eager prayer, Acknowledge; nor, beyond the drop minute Which haply they have tasted, heed the source That flows for all; the fountain of his love, Which, from the summit where he sits enthron'd, Pours health and joy, unfailing streams, throughout The spacious region flourishing in view, The goodly work of his eternal day, His own fair universe; on which alone His counsels fix, and whence alone his will Assumes her strong direction. Such is now His sovran purpose: such it was before All multitude of years. For his right arm Was never idle: his bestowing love Knew no beginning; was not as a change Of mood that woke at last and started up After a deep and solitary sloth
Of boundless ages. No: he now is good, He ever was. The feet of hoary Time Through their eternal course have travell'd o'er No speechless, lifeless desert; but through scenes Cheerful with bounty still; among a pomp Of worlds, for gladness round the maker's throne Loud-shouting, or, in many dialects
Of hope and filial trust, imploring thence The fortunes of their people: where so fix'd Were all the dates of being, so dispos'd To every living soul of every kind
The field of motion and the hour of rest, That each the general happiness might serve; And, by the discipline of laws divine Convinc'd of folly or chastis'd from guilt, Each might at length be happy. What remains Shall be like what is pass'd; but fairer still, And still increasing in the godlike gifts - Of life and truth. The same paternal hand, From the mute shell-fish gasping on the shore, To men, to angels, to celestial minds, Will ever lead the generations on Through higher scenes of being: while, supply'd From day to day by his enlivening breath, Inferior orders in succession rise
To fill the void below. As flame ascends, As vapours to the Earth in showers return, As the pois'd ocean toward the attracting Moon Swells, and the ever-listening planets, charm'd By the Sun's call, their onward pace incline, So all things which have life aspire to God,
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