Whose  blended  Ught,  as  with  a  milky  zone,
Invest  the  orient.     Now  amazed  she  views
The  emp^Teal  waste,  where  happy  spirits  hold,
Beyond  this  concave  heaven,  their  calm  abode  ;
And  fields  of  radiance,  whose  unfading  light
Has  travelled  the  profound  six  thousand  years,
Nor  yet  arrives  in  sight  of  mortal  things.
Even  on  the  barriers  of  the  world  un tired
She  meditates  the  eternal  depth  below  ;
Till  half  recoiling,  down  the  headlong  steep
She  plunges  ;  soon  o'er^helm'd  and  swallow'd  op
In  that  immense  of  being.     There  her  hopes
Rest  at  the  fated  goal.     For  from  the  birth
Of  mortal  man,  the  sovereign  Maker  said.
That  not  in  humble  nor  in  brief  delight,
Not  in  the  fading  echoes  of  Renown,
Power's  purple  robes,  nor  Pleasure's  flowery  lap.
The  soul  should  find  enjoyment :  but  from  these
Turning  disdainful  to  an  equal  good,
Through  all  the  ascent  of  things  enlarge  her  view.
Till  every  bound  at  length  should  disapp^ur.
And  infinite  perfection  close  the  scene.
FROM  THE   SAME.
Final  cauae  of  our  pleasure  in  Deauty.
Then  tell  me,  for  ye  know.
Does  Beauty  ever  deign  to  dwell  where  health
And  active  use  are  strangers !  Is  her  charm
Confess'd  in  aught,  whose  most  peculiar  ends
Are  lame  and  fruitless  !  or  did  Nature  mean
This  pleasing  call  the  herald  of  a  he  ;
To  hide  the  shame  of  discord  and  disease,
And  catch  with  fair  hypocrisy  the  heart
Of  idle  faith  !  O  no  !  with  better  cares
The  indulgent  mother,  conscious  how  infirm
Her  ofispring  tread  the  paths  of  good  and  ill,
By  this  illustrious  image,  in  each  kind
Still  most  illustrious  where  the  object  holds
Its  native  powers  most  perfect,  she  by  this
Illumes  the  headstrong  impulse  of  desire.
