LXXVIII.

Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs,

The sadden'd country a grey waste appear'd,
Where naught but putrid streams and noisome fogs
For ever hung on drizzly Auster's1 beard;
Or else the ground, by piercing Caurus2 sear'd,
Was jagg'd with frost, or heap'd with glazed snow:
Through these extremes a ceaseless round they steer'd,
By cruel fiends still hurried to and fro,

Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe.

LXXIX.

The first was with base dunghill rags yclad,
Tainting the gale, in which they flutter'd light;
Of morbid hue his features, sunk, and sad;
His hollow eyne shook forth a sickly light;
And o'er his lank jaw-bone, in piteous plight,
His black rough beard was matted rank and vile ;
Direful to see a heart-appalling sight!

Meantime foul scurf and blotches him defile;
And dogs, where'er he went, still barkéd all the while.

LXXX.

The other was a fell despiteful fiend:

Hell holds none worse in baleful bow'r below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd;
Of man, alike if good or bad, the foe.
With nose up-turn'd, he always made a show
As if he smelt some nauseous scent his eye
Was cold and keen, like blast from Boreal snow;
And taunts he casten forth most bitterly.

Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry.

1 Auster:' south-east wind.-2 Caurus:' north-east wind.

LXXXI.

Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud,
A herd of bristly swine is prick'd along;
The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud,

Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous song,
And oft they plunge themselves the mire among;
the ruthless driver goads them on,

But

aye

And aye of barking dogs the bitter throng

Makes them renew their unmelodious moan; Ne ever find they rest from their unresting fone.1

Fone:' foes.

Sacred to the Memory

OF

SIR ISAAC NEWTON.

INSCRIBED TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT WALPOLE.

SHALL the great soul of Newton quit this earth,
To mingle with his stars; and every Muse,
Astonish'd into silence, shun the weight
Of honours due to his illustrious name?

But what can man ?-Even now the sons of light,
In strains high-warbled to seraphic lyre,
Hail his arrival on the coast of bliss.

Yet am not I deterr'd, though high the theme,
And sung to harps of angels; for with you,
Ethereal flames! ambitious, I aspire

In Nature's general symphony to join.

And what new wonders can ye show your guest?
Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toil,
Clouded in dust, from Motion's simple laws,
Could trace the secret hand of Providence
Wide-working through this universal frame.

Have ye not listen'd while he bound the Suns
And Planets to their spheres? th' unequal task

10

Of human-kind till then. Oft had they roll'd
O'er erring man the year, and oft disgrac'd

The pride of Schools, before their course was known
Full in its causes and effects to him,

All-piercing sage! who sat not down and dream'd
Romantic schemes, defended by the din
Of specious words, and tyranny of names;
But, bidding his amazing mind attend,
And with heroic patience years on years
Deep-searching, saw at last the System dawn,
And shine, of all his race, on him alone.

What were his raptures then! how pure! how strong!

And what the triumphs of old Greece and Rome,

By his diminish'd, but the pride of boys

In some small fray victorious? when, instead
Of shatter'd parcels of this earth usurp'd

By violence unmanly, and sore deeds
Of cruelty and blood, Nature herself
Stood all-subdu'd by him, and open laid
Her every latent glory to his view.

All-intellectual eye, our solar round

First gazing through, he by the blended power
Of gravitation and projection saw

The whole in silent harmony revolve.
From unassisted vision hid, the moons
To cheer remoter planets numerous form'd,
By him in all their mingled tracts were seen.
He also fix'd our wandering queen of night,
Whether she wanes into a scanty orb,
Or, waxing broad, with her pale shadowy light,
In a soft deluge overflows the sky.
Her every motion clear-discerning, he
Adjusted to the mutual Main, and taught
Why now the mighty mass of water swells

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50

Resistless, heaving on the broken rocks,
And the full river turning; till again
The tide revertive, unattracted, leaves
A yellow waste of idle sands behind.

Then breaking hence, he took his ardent flight
Through the blue infinite; and every star,
Which the clear concave of a winter's night
Pours on the eye; or astronomic tube,
Far-stretching, snatches from the dark abyss;
Or such as farther in successive skies
To fancy shine alone,-at his approach
Blaz'd into suns, the living centre each
Of an harmonious system: all combin'd
And ruled unerring by that single pow'r
Which draws the stone projected to the ground.
O unprofuse magnificence divine!

O wisdom truly perfect! thus to call
From a few causes such a scheme of things,
Effects so various, beautiful, and great,
A universe complete! And, O belov'd
Of Heaven, whose well-purg'd, penetrative eye,
The mystic veil transpiercing, inly scann'd
The rising, moving, wide-establish'd frame!
He first of men with awful wing pursu'd
The comet through the long elliptic curve,
As round innumerous worlds he wound his way;
Till, to the forehead of our evening sky
Return'd, the blazing wonder glares anew,
And o'er the trembling nations shakes dismay.

The heav'ns are all his own; from the wild rule

Of whirling vortices and circling spheres,

To their first great simplicity restor❜d.

The Schools astonish'd stood; but found it vain
To combat still with demonstration strong,

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