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His team think just as much as he
In animal and flower."
As thus I sung, a solemn sound
And, lo, an antient Sage,
Had been his hermitage.
His mantle grey flow'd loose behind,
And added solemn grace :
smil'd in his face.
He beckon'd with his wrinkled hand,
And thus the Sage began :
By poor short-sighted man!
« Go mark the Schools, where letter'd Pride, And star-crown'd Science, boastful guide,
Display their fairest light:
There led by some pale meteor's ray,
And grope in endless night.
« Of Wisdom proud, yon Sage exclaims,
And changing every hour;
And strips her of her dower.
“ Hark, Bolingbroke his God arraigns ; Hobbes smiles on vice, Descartes maintains :
A godless passive cause ;
And wrest th' eternal laws.
“ And what the joy this lore bestows?
claim : To quench our noblest native fire, That bids to nobler worlds aspire,
Is all its hope, its aim.
" Not Afric's wilds, nor Babel's waste, Where Ignorance her tents hath plac'd,
More dismal scene display:
A scene, where Virtue sickening dies,
And scorns the future day.
“ Wisdom you boast to you is given :
And let thy mind explore ;
Still, still are millions more.
“ Th' immense ideas strike the soul With pleasing horror, and controul
Thy Wisdom's empty boast. What are they? Thou canst never say : Then silent adoration pay,
And be in wonder lost.
“ Say, how the self-same roots produce The wholesome food, and poisonous juice,
And adders balsams yields :
The labours of the field?
" Why growling to his den retires The sullen pard, while joy inspires
Yon happy sportive lambs ?
Now scatter'd o'er the hill they stray,
All single out their dams.
" Instinct directs- -But what is That ?
Far short thy searches fall.
But this at once is all.
“ A trunk first floats along the deep, Long ages still improve the ship,
Till she commands the shore : But never bird improv'd her nest, Each all at once of powers possest,
Which ne'er can rise to more.
“ That down the steep the waters flow,
But why, can ne'er explain.
And own thy wisdom vain.
« For still the more thou knowest, the more
Of all thy soul can find :
This life a sickly woeful dream,
A palsy of the mind.
“ Tho' Knowledge scorns the peasant's fear, Alas, it points the secret spear
Of many a nameless woe :
Beyond what he can know.
“ How happy then the simple mind
Where all is smiling peace!
Nor rob one moment's ease.
“ The stings, neglected Merit feels,
the virtuous soul conceals,
Heaven guards his humble state.
“ Knowledge or wealth to few are given; But, mark how just the ways of heaven!
True joy to all is free: