TIROCINIUM. Ir is not from his form, in which we trace That form indeed, the affociate of a mind For her the memory fills her ample page With truths poured down from every diftant age; For her amaffes an unbounded ftore, The wisdom of great nations, now no more; Though laden, not incumbered with her spoil; When copiously supplied, then most enlarged; Appointed fage preceptor to the will, Guides the decifion of a doubtful choice. Το Why did the fiat of a God give birth yon fair fun and his attendant earth? And, when descending he refigns the skies, Whom ocean feels through all his countless waves, fhore he laves? And owns her power on every Finds in a fober moment time to pause, Why formed at all, and wherefore as thou art?" If man be what he seems, this hour a flave, The next mere duft and ashes in the grave; His crimes and follies with an aching eye; 7 |