Of the deep-studying race can ftretch their minds
To what he knew: in fancy's lighter thought,
How fhall the mufe then grafp the mighty theme?
What wonder thence that his devotion fwell'd
Refponfive to his knowledge! For could he,

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Whofe piercing mental eye diffusive saw
The finish'd univerfity of things,

140

In all its order, magnitude, and parts,
Forbear inceffant to adore that Pow'r

Who fills, fuftains, and actuates the whole ?

Say, ye who beft can tell, ye happy few, Who saw him in the fofteft lights of life, All unwithheld, indulging to his friends

145

The vast unborrow'd treasures of his mind,

Oh speak the wondrous man! how mild, how calm,7

How greatly humble, how divinely good;

How firm establish'd on eternal truth;
Fervent in doing well, with ev'ry nerve
Still preffing on, forgetful of the past,
And panting for perfection: far above
Thofe little cares, and vifionary joys,
That fc perplex the fond impaffion'd heart
Of ever-cheated, ever-trusting man.

And you, ye hopeless gloomy-minded tribe,
You who, unconscious of those nobler flights

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155

That reach impatient at immortal life,

Against the prime endearing privilege

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Of Being dare contend, fay, can a foul

Of fuch extenfive, deep, tremendous pow'rs,
Enlarging ftill, be but a finer breath

Of fpirits dancing thro' their tubes a while,
And then for ever loft in vacant air?

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But hark! methinks I hear a warning voice, Solemn as when fome awful change is come,

Sound thro' the world-'Tis done-The meafure's full; And I refign my charge.Ye mould'ring ftones,

That build the tow'ring pyramid, the proud
Triumphal arch, the monument effac'd

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By ruthlefs ruin, and whate'er fupports

The worship name of hoar antiquity,

Down to the duf! what grandeur can ye boast
While NEWTON lifts his column to the fkies,

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Beyond the wafte of time. Let no weak drop
Be fhed for him. The virgin in her bloom-
Cut off, the joyous youth, and darling child,.
These are the tombs that claim the tender tear,
And elegiac fong. But NEWTON calls.
For other notes of gratulation high,.

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That now he wanders thro' thofe endless worlds
He here fo well defcried, and wond'ring talks,
And hymns their Author with his glad compeers.
O BRITAIN'S boast! whether with angels thou 185-
Sitteft in dread difcourfe, or fellow-bleft,

Who joy to fee the honour of their kind;
Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing,
Thy fwift 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

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On human-kind, a frail erroneous race !
Exalt the spirit of a downward world!
O'er thy dejected country chief prefide,
And be her Genius call'd !' her studies raise,
Correct her manners, and infpire her youth...
For, tho' 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 second life,
When time fhall be no more, thy facred duft

Sleeps with her kings, and dignifies the scene.

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-Et tantas audetis tollere moles?

Quos ego-fed motos præftat componere fluctus.
Poft mihi non fimili pœna commissa luetis.
Maturate fugam, regique hæc dicite veftro:
Non illi imperium pelagi, fævumque tridentem,
Sed mihi forte datum.

S on the fea-beat fhore Britannia fat,

Of her degen'rate fons the faded fame, Deep in her anxious heart, revolving fad : Bare was her throbbing bofom to the gale,

VIRG.

That hoarfe, and hollow, from the bleak furge blew;
Loofe flow'd her treffes; rent her azure robe.

Hung o'er the deep from her majestic brow
She tore the laurel, and fhe tore the bay.

Nor ceas'd the copious grief to bathe her cheek;

6

Nor ceas'd her fobs to murmur to the main.

Peace difcontented nigh, departing, ftretch'd

Her dove-like wings. And war, tho' greatly rous'd, Yet mourns his fetter'd hands. While thus the queen Of nations fpoke; and what she said the mufe Recorded, faithful, in unbidden verfe.

Ev'n not yon fail, that, from the sky-mixt wave, Dawns on the fight, and wafts the ROYAL YOUTH *, A freight of future glory to my fhore

Ev'n not the flatt'ring view of golden days,
And rifing periods yet of bright renown,
Beneath the PARENTS, and their endless line
Thro' late revolving time, can foothe my rage;
While, unchaftis'd, th' infulting Spaniard dares
Infeft the trading flood, full of vain war
Defpife my navies, and my merchants seize;
As, trufting to false peace, they fearless roam
The world of waters wild; made, by the toil,
And lib'ral blood of glorious ages, mine:
Nor bursts my fleeping thunder on their head.
Whence this unwonted patience? this weak doubt?
This tame befeeching of rejected peace?
This meek forbearance? this unnative fear,
To gen'rous Britons never known before?

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20

25

39.

And fail'd my fleets for this; on Indian tides
To float, unactive, with the veering winds?
The mockery of war! while hot difeafe,

*35

And floth distemper'd, fwept off burning crouds,

FREDERICK Prince of WALES, then lately arrived.