The grand effect; acknowledges with joy

His manner, and with rapture tastes his style.
But never yet did philofophic tube,

That brings the planets home into the eye

Of observation, and discovers, else

Not vifible, his family of worlds,

Discover him that rules them; fuch a veil

Hangs over mortal eyes, blind from the birth,
And dark in things divine. Full often, too,
Our wayward intellect, the more we learn
Of nature, overlooks her author more;
From inftrumental caufes proud to draw
Conclufions retrograde, and mad mistake.

But, if his word once teach us, fhoot a ray
Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reveal
Truths undifcern'd but by that holy light,
Then all is plain. Philofophy, baptiz'd

In the pure fountain of eternal love,

Has

eyes indeed; and, viewing all fhe fees

As meant to indicate a God to man,

Gives him his praife, and forfeits not her own.

Learning has born fuch fruit in other days
On all her branches; piety has found

Friends in the friends of fcience, and true pray'r
Has flow'd from lips wet with Caftalian dews.
Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike fage!
Sagacious reader of the works of God,

And in his word fagacious. Such too thine,
Milton, whofe genius had angelic wings,

And fed on manna! And fuch thine, in whom
Our British Themis gloried with just cause,
Immortal Hale! for deep difcernment prais❜d,
And found integrity, not more than fam'd
For fanctity of manners undefil'd.

All flesh is grafs, and all its glory fades Like the fair flow'r difhevell'd in the wind; Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream: The man we celebrate muft find a tomb, And we that worship him ignoble graves.

Nothing is proof against the gen'ral curfe

Of vanity, that feizes all below.

The only amaranthine flow'r on earth

Is virtue; th' only lasting treasure, truth.
But what is truth?'twas Pilate's question, put
To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply.
And wherefore? will not God impart his light
To them that ask it ?-Freely-'tis his joy,
His glory, and his nature, to impart.
But to the proud, uncandid, infincere,

Or negligent, inquirer not a spark.

What's that which brings contempt upon a book, And him who writes it; though the ftyle be neat, The method clear, and argument exact?

That makes a minifter in holy things

The joy of many, and the dread of more,

His name a theme for praise and for reproach ?That, while it gives us worth in God's account, Depreciates and undoes us in our own?

What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy,

That learning is too proud to gather up;
But which the poor, and the defpis'd of all,
Seek and obtain, and often find unfought?
Tell me and I will tell thee what is truth.

O, friendly to the best pursuits of man, Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, Domestic life in rural leifure pafs'd!

Few know thy value, and few tafte thy fweets; Though many boaft thy favours, and affect

To understand and choose thee for their own, But foolish man foregoes his proper blifs, Ev'n as his first progenitor, and quits,

Though placed in paradife, (for earth has ftill Some traces of her youthful beauty left) Substantial happiness for tranfient joy.

Scenes form'd for contemplation, and to nurfe The growing feeds of wifdom; that fuggeft, By ev'ry pleafing image they prefent, Reflections fuch as meliorate the heart,

Compose the paffions, and exalt the mind;
Scenes fuch as these 'tis his fupreme delight
To fill with riot, and defile with blood.

Should fome contagion, kind to the poor
We perfecute, annihilate the tribes

brutes

That draw the sportsman over hill and dale,
Fearless, and rapt away from all his cares;
Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs again,
Nor baited hook deceive the fish's eye;
Could pageantry and dance, and feast and song,
Be quell'd in all our fummer-months' retreat;
How many felf-deluded nymphs and fwains,
Who dream they have a tafte for fields and groves,
Would find them hideous nurs'ries of the spleen,
And crowd the roads, impatient for the town!
They love the country, and none else, who feek
For their own fake its filence and its fhade.

Delights which who would leave, that has a heart
Sufceptible of pity, or a mind

Cultur'd and capable of fober thought,