Patron of else the most despis'd of men, Accept the tribute of a stranger's pen; Verse, like the laurel, it's immortal meed,

Should be the guerdon of a noble deed;

I

may alarm thee, but I fear the shame (Charity chosen as my theme and aim) I must incur, forgetting HOWARD's name. Blest with all wealth can give thee, to resign Joys doubly sweet to feelings quick as thine, To quit the bliss thy rural scenes bestow, To seek a nobler amid scenes of wo,

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To traverse seas, range kingdoms, and bring

home,

Not the proud monuments of Greece or Rome, But knowledge such as only dungeons teach, And only sympathy like thine could reach; That grief, sequester'd from the public stage, Might smooth her feathers, and enjoy her cage; Speaks a divine ambition, and a zeal,

The boldest patriot might be proud to feel.

O that the voice of clamour and debate,

That pleads for peace till it disturbs the state, Were hush'd in favour of thy gen'rous plea, 311

The poor thy clients, and Heav'n's smile thy fee! Philosophy, that does not dream or stray,

Walks arm in arm with Nature all his

way;

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Compasses Earth, dives into it, ascends
Whatever step Inquiry recommends,
Sees planetary wonders smoothly roll
Round other systems under her control,
Drinks wisdom at the milky stream of light,
That cheers the silent journey of the night,
And brings at his return a bosom charg'd
With rich instruction, and a soul enlarg❜d.
The treasur'd sweets of the capacious plan,
That Heav'n spreads wide before the view of man,
All prompt his pleas'd pursuit, and to pursue
Still prompt him, with a pleasure always new;
He too has a connecting pow'r, and draws
Man to the centre of the common cause,

Aiding a dubious and deficient sight
With a new medium and a purer light.

All truth is precious, if not all divine;

And what dilates the pow'rs must needs refine.
He reads the skies, and watching ev'ry change,
Provides the faculties an ample range;
And wins mankind, as his attempts prevail,
A prouder station on the genʼral scale.
But Reason still, unless divinely taught,

330

Whate'er she learns, learns nothing as she ought; The lamp of revelation only shows,

What human wisdom cannot but oppose,

340

That man, in nature's richest mantle clad,

And grac'd with all philosophy can add,
Though fair without, and luminous within,
Is still the progeny and heir of sin.

Thus taught, down falls the plumage of his pride;
He feels his need of an unerring guide,

And knows that falling he shall rise no more,

Unless the pow'r that bade him stand restore.

This is indeed philosophy; this known
Makes wisdom, worthy of the name, his own;
And without this, whatever he discuss;

Whether the space between the stars and us,
Whether he measure Earth, compute the sea,
Weigh sunbeams, carve a fly, or spit a flea;
The solemn trifler with his boasted skill
Toils much, and is a solemn trifler still:
Blind was he born, and his misguided eyes
Grown dim in trifling studies, blind he dies.
Self-knowledge truly learn'd of course implies
The rich possession of a nobler prize;

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360

For self to self, and God to man reveal'd,
(Two themes to Nature's eye for ever seal'd)
Are taught by rays, that fly with equal pace
From the same centre of enlight'ning grace.
Here stay thy foot; how copious and how clear,
Th' o'erflowing well of Charity springs here!
Hark! 'tis the music of a thousand rills,

Some through the groves, some down the sloping

hills,

Winding a secret or an open course,

And all supplied from an eternal source.
The ties of Nature do but feebly bind,

And Commerce partially reclaims mankind;
Philosophy, without his heav'nly guide,
May blow up self-conceit, and nourish pride,
But, while his province is the reas'ning part,
Has still a veil of midnight on his heart:
'Tis truth divine, exhibited on Earth,

Gives Charity her being and her birth.

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Suppose (when thought is warm, and fancy

flows,

What will not argument sometimes suppose?)

An isle possess'd by creatures of our kind,
Endued with reason, yet by nature blind.
Let Supposition lend her aid once more,
And land some grave optician on the shore:
He claps his lens, if haply they may see,
Close to the part where vision ought to be;

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But finds, that, though his tubes assist the sight,

They cannot give it, or make darkness light.