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It is not from his form, in which we trace Strength joined with beauty, dignity with grace, That
man, the master of this globe, derives His right of empire over all that lives. That form indeed, the associate of a mind Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind, That form, the labour of almighty skill, Framed for the service of a free-born will, Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control, But borrows all its grandeur from the sout. In Hers is the state, the splendoar, and the throne, An intelleetual kingdom, all her own. For her the memory fills her ample page With truths poured down from every For her amasses an unbounded store, The wisdom of great nations, now no more; Though laden, not incumbered, with her spoil; Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil; When copiously supplied, then most enlarged; Still to be fed; and not to be surcliarged. For her the fancy, roving unconfined, The present muse of every pensive mind, Works ragic wonders, adds a brighter hue To nature's scenes than nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise and waters roar,
Why did the fiat of a God give birth
power on every shore be laves? Why do, the seasons still enrich the year, Fruitful and young as in their first career? Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rocked in the cradle of the western breeze; Summer in haste the thriving charge receives Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, Till autumu's fiercer heats and plenteous dews Dye them at last in all their glowing, hues.'Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste, Power misemployed, munificence misplaced, Had not its author dignified ibe plan, And crowned, it with the majesty of man. Thus formed, thus placed, intelligent and taught, Look where he will, the wonders God has
The' wildest scorner of his Maker's laws Finds in a sober moment time to pause, To press the important question on his heart, "Why formed at all, and wherefore as thou art?" If man be what he seems, this hour a slave, The next mere dust and ashes in the grave; Endued with reason only to descry His crimes and follies with an aching eye; With passions, just that he may prove, with pain, The force he spends against their fury vain; And if, soon after having burnt, by tarns, With every lust, with which 'frail nature burns His being end where death dissolves the bond, The tomb take all, and all be blank beyond; Then he, of all that nature has brought forth, Stands self-impeached the creature of least worth, And useless while he lives, and'wbeu he dies, Brings into doubt the wisdom of the skies.
Truths, that the learned pursue with eager thought, Are not important always as dear-bought, Proving at last, though told in pompous strains, A childish waste of philosophic pains ;
1 But truths, on which depends our main concern; That 'tis our shame and misery, not to learn, ? Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre, he that runs ntay read. 'Tis true that, if to trifle life-away Down to the sun-set of their latest-day, Then perish on futurity's wide shore Líko fleeting exhalatious, found no more,
Were all that Heaven required of human kind,
In early days the conscience has in most