Ir is not from his form, in which we tracé
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the mafter of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, th' affociate of a mind
Vaft in its pow'rs, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of Almighty skill,
Fram'd for the fervice of a free-born will,
Afferts precedence, and bespeaks controul,
But borrows all its grandeur from the foul.
Here is the state, the fplendour, and the throne,
An intellectual kingdom, all her own.
For her, the mem'ry fills her ample page
With truths pour'd down from ev'ry distant age; For her amaffes an unbounded store,
The wifdom of great nations, now no more;
Though laden, not incumber'd with her fpoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;
When copiously fupplied, then most enlarg'd;
Still to be fed, and not to be furcharg❜d.
For her the fancy, roving unconfin'd,
The prefent muse of ev'ry pensive mind,
Works magic wonders, adds a brighter hue
To nature's fcenes than nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise and waters roar,
Again fhe lays them flumb'ring on the fhore;
With flow'r and fruit the wilderness supplies,
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise.
For her the judgment, umpire in the strife
That grace and nature have to wage through life,
Quick-fighted arbiter of good and ill,
Appointed fage preceptor to the will,
Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice.
Why did the fiat of a God give birth Το yon fair fun and his attendant earth? And, when defcending he refigns the skies, Why takes the gentler moon her turn to rife, Whom ocean feels through all his countless waves, And owns her pow'r on ev'ry shore he laves?
Why do the seasons still enrich the year,
Fruitful and young as in their first career?
Spring bangs her infant bloffoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze;
Summer in hafte the thriving charge receives
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves,
Till autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.-
'Twere wild profufion all, and bootlefs waste,
Pow'r mifemploy'd, munificence misplac'd,
Had not its Author dignified the plan,
And crown'd it with the majefty of man.
Thus form'd, thus plac'd, intelligent, and taught,
Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought,
The wildeft fcorner of his Maker's laws
Finds in a fober moment time to pause,
To prefs th' important queftion on his heart,
"Why form'd at all, and wherefore as thou art ?"
If man be what he feems-this hour a slave,
The next mere duft and ashes in the grave;
Endu'd with reafon only to defcry
His crimes and follies with an aching eye;
With paffions, juft that he may prove, with pain,
The force he spends against their fury, vain;
And if, foon after having burnt, by turns,
With ev'ry luft with which frail nature burns,
His being end where death diffolves the bond, The tomb take all, and all be blank beyondThen he, of all that nature has brought forth, Stands felf-impeach'd, the creature of leaft worth, And, useless while he lives; and when he dies, Brings into doubt the wisdom of the skies.
Truths that the learn'd pursue with eager thought,
Are not important always as dear-bought,
Proving at last, though told in pompous strains,
A childish waste of philofophic pains;
But truths on which depends our main concern,
That 'tis our fhame and mis'ry not to learn,
Shine, by the fide of ev'ry path we tread,
With fuch a luftre, he that runs may read.
'Tis true, that, if to trifle life away
Down to the fun-fet of the latest day,
Then perish on futurity's wide fhore,
Like fleeting exhalations, found no more,
Were all that Heav'n requir'd of human kind,
And all the plan that deftiny defign'd,
What none could rev'rence all might justly blame,
And man would breathe but for his Maker's fhame.
But reafon heard, and nature well perus'd,
At once the dreaming mind is disabus'd.
If all we find poffeffing earth, fea, air,
Reflect His attributes who plac'd them there,
Fulfil the purpose, and appear defign'd
Proofs of the wifdom of th' all-feeing Mind,
'Tis plain the creature, whom he chose t'invest
With kingship and dominion o'er the rest,
Receiv'd his nobler nature, and was made
Fit for the pow'r in which he stands array'd,
That firft or laft, hereafter if not here,
He too might make his Author's wisdom clear,
Praife him on earth, or, obstinately dumb,
Suffer his justice in a world to come.
This once believ'd, 'twere logic mifapplied
To prove a confequence by none denied,
That we are bound to caft the minds of youth
Betimes into the mould of heav'nly truth,
That, taught of God, they may indeed be wife,
Nor, ignorantly wand'ring, mifs the skies.
In early days the confcience has in most
A quickness, which in later life is loft:
Preferv'd from guilt by falutary fears,
Or, guilty, foon relenting into tears.
Too careless often, as our years proceed,
What friends we fort with, or what books we read,
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