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LII. • Nor less to regulate man's moral frame · Science exerts her all-compofing fway. • Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame, • Or pines to indolence and Spleen à prey, • Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they? • Flee to the shade of Academus' grove; • Where cares molest not, discord melts away.
• In harmony, and the pure paflions prove (Love. • How sweet the words of truth breathed from the lips of
LIII. • What cannot Art and Industry perform, · When Science plans the progress of their toil !
They smile at penury, diseale, and form ; • And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. • When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil • A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage • Order transforms to anarchy and spoil,
• Deep-versed in man the philofophic Sage • Prepares with lenient hand their phrenzy to aliwage.
LIV. < 'Tis he alone, whose comprehenfive mind, • From situation, temper, soil, and clime • Explored, a nation's various power can bind . And various orders, in one Form fublime
Of polity, that, midlt the wrecks of time, • Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear • Th' affault of foreign or domestic crime,
While public faith, and public love sincere,
Sublime from cause to cause exults to risc,
alarm, And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.
LVII. But She who set on fire his infant heart, And all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared And bless'd the Muse and her celeltial art, Still claim'd th’ Enthusiast's fond and first regard. From Nature's beauties variously compared And variously combined, he learns to frame Those forms of bright perfection, which the Bard,
While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamour'd confecrates to never-dying fame.
LVIII. Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous show, Edwin would oft his flowry rhime deface, Through ardour to adorn ; but Nature now To his experienced cye a modell grace Presents, where Ornament the second place Holds to intrinsic worth and just design Subfervient itill. Simplicity apace Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine, And clears th' ambiguous phrase, and lops th' unwieldy line.
LIX. Fain would I fing (much yet unsung remains) What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole, When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains * His deep majestic melody 'gan to roll :
Fain would I fing, what tranlport storm’d his soul,
Gracefully terrible, lublimely itrong,
I hatte, where gleams funeral glare around (found. Aud, mix'd with shrieks of wot, the knells of death re
(tears. 'Tis meet ihat I thould mourn :-flow forth afresh
* This excellent person died suddenly, on the roth of February, 1773. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days after.