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It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the master of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, th' associate of a mind
Vaft in its pow'rs, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of almighty skill,
Fram'd for the service of a free-born will,
Afferts precedence, and bespeaks control,
But borrows all its grandeur from the soul.
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 amafies an unbounded store,
The wisdom of great nations, now no more :
Though laden, not incumber'd with her spoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;
When copiously supplied, then most enlarg’d;
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharg’d.
For her the fancy, roving unconfin'd,
The present muse of ev'ry pensive mind,
Works siagic wonders, adds a brighter hue
To nature's scenes than nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise and waters roar,
Again she lays them flumb’ring on the shore;
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-lighted 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
To yon fair sun and his attendant earth?
And, when descending he resigns the skies,
Why takes the gentler moon her turn to rise,

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