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The schools astonish'd stood, but found it vain
Th' aërial flow of sound was known to him,
To the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWTON. 161 Delightful, melting on the fields beneath.
115 Myriads of mingling dyes from these refult, And myriads still remain ; infinite source Of beauty, ever-blushing, ever-new!
Did ever poet image aught so fair, Dreaming in whispering groves, by the hoarse brook! Or prophet, to whose rapture heaven descends! Ev'n now the setting fun and shifting clouds, Seen, Greenwich, from thy lovely heights, declare How juft, how beauteous, the refractive law.
The noiseless tide of time, all bearing down 125 To vast eternity's unbounded fea, Where the green islands of the happy shine, He stemm'd alone; and to the source (involvid Deep in primeval gloom) ascending, rais'd His lights at equal distances, to guide
130 Historian, wilder'd on his darksome way.
But who can number up his labours ? who
What wonder thence that his devotion swellid
diffufive saw The finish'd university of things,
140 In all its order, magnitude, and parts, Forbear incessant to adore that power Who fills, sustains, and actuates the whole ? Say, ye who best can tell, ye happy few, VOL. II. M
Wlio saw him in the softest lights of life,
155 Of ever-cheated, ever-trufting man.
And you, ye hopeless gloomy-ininded tribe,
165 But, hark! methinks I hear a warning voice, Solemn as when some aweful change is come, Sound through the world—'Tis done~The measure's full; And I resign my charge. Ye mouldering stones, That build the towering pyramid, the proud 170 Triumphal arch, the monument effac'd By ruthlefs ruin, and whate’er supports The worlip name of hoar antiquity, Down to the duft! what grandeur can ye boast
To the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWTON. 163 While Newton lifts his column to the skies, 175 Beyond the waste of time. Let no weak drop Be shed for him. The virgin in her bloom Cut off, the joyous youth, and darling child, These are the tombs that claim the tender tears And elegiac song. But Newton calls
180 For other notes of gratulation high, That now he wanders through those endless worlds He here so well descried, and wondering talks, And hymns their author with his glad compeers.
O, Britain's boast! whether with angels thou 185 Sitteft in dread discourse, or fellow-bleft, Who joy to see the honour of their kind; Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing, Thy swift career is with the whirling orbs, Comparing things with things, in rapture lost, Igo And grateful adoration, for that light So plenteous ray'd into thy mind below, From Light bimself ; oh, look with pity down On human-kind, a frail erroneous race ! Exalt the spirit of a downward world !
19: O’er thy dejected country chief preside, And be her Genius call'd! her studies raise, Correct her manners, and inspire her youth. For, though depray'd and funk, she brought thee forth, And glories in thy name ; flie points thee out To all her fons, and bids them eye thy ftar : While, in expectance of the second life, When time shall be no more, thy sacred dust Sleeps with her kings, and dignifies the scene.
To the Memory of the Right Hon. Lord TALBOT,
Lord Chancellor of Great Britain. Addressed to his Son.
WHILE, with the public, you, my Lord, lament
A friend and father loft; permit the Muse,
Let the low-minded of these narrow days No more presume to deem the lofty tale
Eternal Wisdom, that all-quickening sun,