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Life is a blank to those whom Fancy blest
A long, long night succeeds their lovely morn!
He dares the wisdom of the world to spurn,
Be then utility alone the aim
Of all thy actions; ere it be too late
Invention too must cease to yield delight;
Since e'en an o'er-fraught memory brings pain.
The learned are but idlers on her shore;
So deem'd that wondrous man best skill'd in Nature's lore.
Thy brethren in distress demand thy care,
O Howard, Reynolds! names to man more dear
This your ambition-may it ever live
Fresh with the dews of heaven its boundless laurels
"THE LAMENT OF ALTAMONT.”
P. 397, 1. 5.
So deem'd that wondrous man, &c.
"It is related of Sir Isaac Newton, that, in speaking on some
occasion of his discoveries, he compared himself to a boy collecting pebbles on the sea-shore."
Crowns are scatter'd at her feet;
Power now bends unto her will,
How she mocks the pride of kings! How she scorns the idle show!
"Now," she cries, "on eagle wings, 'Gainst the thankless tribe I'll go."
Virtue, Wisdom, you alone
Just pre-eminence deserve; Attributes to that high throne Which the freest love to serve.
Break the prison gates, behold
Forced by things of coarser mould
In the dungeon's gloom to pine!
See the tyrant raises high,
Girt with battlements around,
Towers, that seem to brave the sky :
His strength is nought-his hopes unsound.
Be he robed in purple pall,
Death shall seize the gorgeous prize!
Though before him thousands fall,
Freemen shout "Revenge ”—he dies !
LOUD howl the winds around, the sea on high