Chapter 9

What tongue then may explain the various fate Which reigns o'er earth? or who to mortal eyes Illustrate this perplexing labyrinth Of joy and woe, through which the feet of man Are doom'd to wander? That Eternal Mind From passions, wants, and envy far estranged, Who built the spacious universe, and deck'd Each part so richly with whate'er pertains To life, to health, to pleasure, why bade he The viper Evil, creeping in, pollute 10 The goodly scene, and with insidious rage, While the poor inmate looks around and smiles Dart her fell sting with poison to his soul? Hard is the question, and from ancient days Hath still oppress'd with care the sage's thought; Hath drawn forth accents from the poet's lyre Too sad, too deeply plaintive; nor did e'er Those chiefs of human kind, from whom the light Of heavenly truth first gleam'd on barbarous lands, Forget this dreadful secret when they told 20 What wondrous things had to their favour'd eyes And ears on cloudy mountain been reveal'd, Or in deep cave by nymph or power divine, Portentous oft, and wild. Yet one I know. Could I the speech of lawgivers assume, One old and splendid tale I would record, With which the Muse of Solon in sweet strains Adorn'd this theme profound, and render'd all Its darkness, all its terrors, bright as noon, Or gentle as the golden star of eve. 30 Who knows not Solon,--last, and wisest far, Of those whom Greece, triumphant in the height Of glory, styled her fathers,--him whose voice Through Athens hush'd the storm of civil wrath; Taught envious Want and cruel Wealth to join In friendship; and, with sweet compulsion, tamed Minerva's eager people to his laws, Which their own goddess in his breast inspired?

'Twas now the time when his heroic task Seem'd but perform'd in vain; when, soothed by years 40 Of flattering service, the fond multitude Hung with their sudden counsels on the breath Of great Pisistratus, that chief renown'd, Whom Hermes and the Idalian queen had train'd, Even from his birth, to every powerful art Of pleasing and persuading; from whose lips Flow'd eloquence which, like the vows of love, Could steal away suspicion from the hearts Of all who listen'd. Thus from day to day He won the general suffrage, and beheld 50 Each rival overshadow'd and depress'd Beneath his ampler state; yet oft complain'd, As one less kindly treated, who had hoped To merit favour, but submits perforce To find another's services preferr'd, Nor yet relaxeth aught of faith or zeal. Then tales were scatter'd of his envious foes, Of snares that watch'd his fame, of daggers aim'd Against his life. At last, with trembling limbs, His hair diffused and wild, his garments loose, 60 And stain'd with blood from self-inflicted wounds, He burst into the public place, as there, There only, were his refuge; and declared In broken words, with sighs of deep regret, The mortal danger he had scarce repell'd. Fired with his tragic tale, the indignant crowd, To guard his steps, forthwith a menial band, Array'd beneath his eye for deeds of war, Decree. Oh! still too liberal of their trust, And oft betray'd by over-grateful love, 70 The generous people! Now behold him fenced By mercenary weapons, like a king, Forth issuing from the city-gate at eve To seek his rural mansion, and with pomp Crowding the public road. The swain stops short, And sighs; the officious townsmen stand at gaze, And shrinking give the sullen pageant room. Yet not the less obsequious was his brow; Nor less profuse of courteous words his tongue, Of gracious gifts his hand; the while by stealth, 80 Like a small torrent fed with evening showers, His train increased; till, at that fatal time Just as the public eye, with doubt and shame Startled, began to question what it saw, Swift as the sound of earthquakes rush'd a voice Through Athens, that Pisistratus had fill'd The rocky citadel with hostile arms, Had barr'd the steep ascent, and sate within Amid his hirelings, meditating death To all whose stubborn necks his yoke refused. 90 Where then was Solon? After ten long years Of absence, full of haste from foreign shores, The sage, the lawgiver had now arrived: Arrived, alas! to see that Athens, that Fair temple raised by him and sacred call'd To Liberty and Concord, now profaned By savage hate, or sunk into a den Of slaves who crouch beneath the master's scourge, And deprecate his wrath, and court his chains. Yet did not the wise patriot's grief impede 100 His virtuous will, nor was his heart inclined One moment with such woman-like distress To view the transient storms of civil war, As thence to yield his country and her hopes To all-devouring bondage. His bright helm, Even while the traitor's impious act is told, He buckles on his hoary head; he girds With mail his stooping breast; the shield, the spear He snatcheth; and with swift indignant strides The assembled people seeks; proclaims aloud 110 It was no time for counsel; in their spears Lay all their prudence now; the tyrant yet Was not so firmly seated on his throne, But that one shock of their united force Would dash him from the summit of his pride, Headlong and grovelling in the dust. 'What else Can reassert the lost Athenian name, So cheaply to the laughter of the world Betray'd; by guile beneath an infant's faith So mock'd and scorn'd? Away, then: Freedom now 120 And Safety dwell not but with Fame in arms; Myself will shew you where their mansion lies, And through the walks of Danger or of Death Conduct you to them.'--While he spake, through all Their crowded ranks his quick sagacious eye He darted; where no cheerful voice was heard Of social daring; no stretch'd arm was seen Hastening their common task: but pale mistrust Wrinkled each brow; they shook their head, and down Their slack hands hung; cold sighs and whisper'd doubts 130 From breath to breath stole round. The sage meantime Look'd speechless on, while his big bosom heaved, Struggling with shame and sorrow, till at last A tear broke forth; and, 'O immortal shades, O Theseus,' he exclaim'd, 'O Codrus, where, Where are ye now behold for what ye toil'd Through life! behold for whom ye chose to die!' No more he added; but with lonely steps Weary and slow, his silver beard depress'd, And his stern eyes bent heedless on the ground, 140 Back to his silent dwelling he repair'd. There o'er the gate, his armour, as a man Whom from the service of the war his chief Dismisseth after no inglorious toil, He fix'd in general view. One wishful look He sent, unconscious, toward the public place At parting; then beneath his quiet roof Without a word, without a sigh, retired. Scarce had the morrow's sun his golden rays From sweet Hymettus darted o'er the fanes 150 Of Cecrops to the Salaminian shores, When, lo, on Solon's threshold met the feet Of four Athenians, by the same sad care Conducted all, than whom the state beheld None nobler. First came Megacles, the son Of great Alcmaeon, whom the Lydian king, The mild, unhappy Croesus, in his days Of glory had with costly gifts adorn'd, Fair vessels, splendid garments, tinctured webs And heaps of treasured gold, beyond the lot 160 Of many sovereigns; thus requiting well That hospitable favour which erewhile Alcmaeon to his messengers had shown, Whom he, with offerings worthy of the god, Sent from his throne in Sardis, to revere Apollo's Delphic shrine. With Megacles Approach'd his son, whom Agarista bore, The virtuous child of Clistheues, whose hand Of Grecian sceptres the most ancient far In Sicyon sway'd: but greater fame he drew 170 From arms controll'd by justice, from the love Of the wise Muses, and the unenvied wreath Which glad Olympia gave. For thither once His warlike steeds the hero led, and there Contended through the tumult of the course With skilful wheels. Then victor at the goal, Amid the applauses of assembled Greece, High on his car he stood and waved his arm. Silence ensued: when straight the herald's voice Was heard, inviting every Grecian youth, 180 Whom Clisthenes content might call his son, To visit, ere twice thirty days were pass'd, The towers of Sicyon. There the chief decreed, Within the circuit of the following year, To join at Hymen's altar, hand in hand With his fair daughter, him among the guests Whom worthiest he should deem. Forthwith from all The bounds of Greece the ambitious wooers came: From rich Hesperia; from the Illyrian shore, Where Epidamnus over Adria's surge 190 Looks on the setting sun; from those brave tribes Chaonian or Molossian, whom the race Of great Achilles governs, glorying still In Troy o'erthrown; from rough Aetolia, nurse Of men who first among the Greeks threw off The yoke of kings, to commerce and to arms Devoted; from Thessalia's fertile meads, Where flows Peneus near the lofty walls Of Cranon old; from strong Eretria, queen Of all Euboean cities, who, sublime 200 On the steep margin of Euripus, views Across the tide the Marathonian plain, Not yet the haunt of glory. Athens too, Minerva's care, among her graceful sons Found equal lovers for the princely maid: Nor was proud Argos wanting; nor the domes Of sacred Elis; nor the Arcadian groves That overshade Alpheus, echoing oft Some shepherd's song. But through the illustrious band Was none who might with Megacles compare 210 In all the honours of unblemish'd youth. His was the beauteous bride; and now their son, Young Clisthenes, betimes, at Solon's gate Stood anxious; leaning forward on the arm Of his great sire, with earnest eyes that ask'd When the slow hinge would turn, with restless feet, And cheeks now pale, now glowing; for his heart Throbb'd full of bursting passions, anger, grief With scorn imbitter'd, by the generous boy Scarce understood, but which, like noble seeds, 220 Are destined for his country and himself In riper years to bring forth fruits divine Of liberty and glory. Next appear'd Two brave companions, whom one mother bore To different lords; but whom the better ties Of firm esteem and friendship render'd more Than brothers: first Miltiades, who drew From godlike AEacus his ancient line; That AEacus whose unimpeach'd renown For sanctity and justice won the lyre 230 Of elder bards to celebrate him throned In Hades o'er the dead, where his decrees The guilty soul within the burning gates Of Tartarus compel, or send the good To inhabit with eternal health and peace The valleys of Elysium. From a stem So sacred, ne'er could worthier scion spring Than this Miltiades; whose aid ere long The chiefs of Thrace, already on their ways, Sent by the inspired foreknowing maid who sits 240 Upon the Delphic tripod, shall implore To wield their sceptre, and the rural wealth Of fruitful Chersonesus to protect With arms and laws. But, nothing careful now Save for his injured country, here he stands In deep solicitude with Cimon join'd: Unconscious both what widely different lots Await them, taught by nature as they are To know one common good, one common ill. For Cimon, not his valour, not his birth 250 Derived from Codrus, not a thousand gifts Dealt round him with a wise, benignant hand; No, not the Olympic olive, by himself From his own brow transferr'd to soothe the mind Of this Pisistratus, can long preserve From the fell envy of the tyrant's sons, And their assassin dagger. But if death Obscure upon his gentle steps attend, Yet fate an ample recompense prepares In his victorious son, that other great 260 Miltiades, who o'er the very throne Of Glory shall with Time's assiduous hand In adamantine characters engrave The name of Athens; and, by Freedom arm'd 'Gainst the gigantic pride of Asia's king, Shall all the achievements of the heroes old Surmount, of Hercules, of all who sail'd From Thessaly with Jason, all who fought For empire or for fame at Thebes or Troy.

Such were the patriots who within the porch 270 Of Solon had assembled. But the gate Now opens, and across the ample floor Straight they proceed into an open space Bright with the beams of morn: a verdant spot, Where stands a rural altar, piled with sods Cut from the grassy turf and girt with wreaths, Of branching palm. Here Solon's self they found Clad in a robe of purple pure, and deck'd With leaves of olive on his reverend brow. He bow'd before the altar, and o'er cakes 280 Of barley from two earthen vessels pour'd Of honey and of milk a plenteous stream; Calling meantime the Muses to accept His simple offering, by no victim tinged With blood, nor sullied by destroying fire, But such as for himself Apollo claims In his own Delos, where his favourite haunt Is thence the Altar of the Pious named.

Unseen the guests drew near, and silent view'd That worship; till the hero-priest his eye 290 Turn'd toward a seat on which prepared there lay A branch of laurel. Then his friends confess'd Before him stood. Backward his step he drew, As loath that care or tumult should approach Those early rites divine; but soon their looks, So anxious, and their hands, held forth with such Desponding gesture, bring him on perforce To speak to their affliction. 'Are ye come,' He cried, 'to mourn with me this common shame? Or ask ye some new effort which may break 300 Our fetters? Know then, of the public cause Not for yon traitor's cunning or his might Do I despair; nor could I wish from Jove Aught dearer, than at this late hour of life, As once by laws, so now by strenuous arms, From impious violation to assert The rights our fathers left us. But, alas! What arms? or who shall wield them? Ye beheld The Athenian people. Many bitter days Must pass, and many wounds from cruel pride 310 Be felt, ere yet their partial hearts find room For just resentment, or their hands indure To smite this tyrant brood, so near to all Their hopes, so oft admired, so long beloved. That time will come, however. Be it yours To watch its fair approach, and urge it on With honest prudence; me it ill beseems Again to supplicate the unwilling crowd To rescue from a vile deceiver's hold That envied power, which once with eager zeal 320 They offer'd to myself; nor can I plunge In counsels deep and various, nor prepare For distant wars, thus faltering as I tread On life's last verge, ere long to join the shades Of Minos and Lycurgus. But behold What care employs me now. My vows I pay To the sweet Muses, teachers of my youth And solace of my age. If right I deem Of the still voice that whispers at my heart, The immortal sisters have not quite withdrawn 330 Their old harmonious influence. Let your tongues With sacred silence favour what I speak, And haply shall my faithful lips be taught To unfold celestial counsels, which may arm, As with impenetrable steel your breasts, For the long strife before you, and repel The darts of adverse fate.'--He said, and snatch'd The laurel bough, and sate in silence down, Fix'd, wrapp'd in solemn musing, full before The sun, who now from all his radiant orb 340 Drove the gray clouds, and pour'd his genial light Upon the breast of Solon. Solon raised Aloft the leafy rod, and thus began:--

'Ye beauteous offspring of Olympian Jove And Memory divine, Pierian maids, Hear me, propitious. In the morn of life, When hope shone bright and all the prospect smiled, To your sequester'd mansion oft my steps Were turn'd, O Muses, and within your gate My offerings paid. Ye taught me then with strains 350 Of flowing harmony to soften war's Dire voice, or in fair colours, that might charm The public eye, to clothe the form austere Of civil counsel. Now my feeble age, Neglected, and supplanted of the hope On which it lean'd, yet sinks not, but to you, To your mild wisdom flies, refuge beloved Of solitude and silence. Ye can teach The visions of my bed whate'er the gods In the rude ages of the world inspired, 360 Or the first heroes acted; ye can make The morning light more gladsome to my sense Than ever it appear'd to active youth Pursuing careless pleasure; ye can give To this long leisure, these unheeded hours, A labour as sublime, as when the sons Of Athens throng'd and speechless round me stood, To hear pronounced for all their future deeds The bounds of right and wrong. Celestial powers! I feel that ye are near me: and behold, 370 To meet your energy divine, I bring A high and sacred theme; not less than those Which to the eternal custody of Fame Your lips intrusted, when of old ye deign'd With Orpheus or with Homer to frequent The groves of Haemus or the Chian shore.

'Ye know, harmonious maids, (for what of all My various life was e'er from you estranged?) Oft hath my solitary song to you Reveal'd that duteous pride which turn'd my steps 380 To willing exile; earnest to withdraw From envy and the disappointed thirst Of lucre, lest the bold familiar strife, Which in the eye of Athens they upheld Against her legislator, should impair With trivial doubt the reverence of his laws. To Egypt therefore through the AEgean isles My course I steer'd, and by the banks of Nile Dwelt in Canopus. Thence the hallow'd domes Of Sals, and the rites to Isis paid, 390 I sought, and in her temple's silent courts, Through many changing moons, attentive heard The venerable Sonchis, while his tongue At morn or midnight the deep story told Of her who represents whate'er has been, Or is, or shall be; whose mysterious veil No mortal hand hath ever yet removed. By him exhorted, southward to the walls Of On I pass'd, the city of the sun, The ever-youthful god. Twas there, amid 400 His priests and sages, who the livelong night Watch the dread movements of the starry sphere, Or who in wondrous fables half disclose The secrets of the elements, 'twas there That great Paenophis taught my raptured ears The fame of old Atlantis, of her chiefs, And her pure laws, the first which earth obey'd. Deep in my bosom sunk the noble tale; And often, while I listen'd, did my mind Foretell with what delight her own free lyre 410 Should sometime for an Attic audience raise Anew that lofty scene, and from their tombs Call forth those ancient demigods, to speak Of Justice and the hidden Providence That walks among mankind. But yet meantime The mystic pomp of Ammon's gloomy sons Became less pleasing. With contempt I gazed On that tame garb and those unvarying paths, To which the double yoke of king and priest Had cramp'd the sullen race. At last, with hymns 420 Invoking our own Pallas and the gods Of cheerful Greece, a glad farewell I gave To Egypt, and before the southern wind Spread my full sails. What climes I then survey'd, What fortunes I encounter'd in the realm Of Croesus or upon the Cyprian shore, The Muse, who prompts my bosom, doth not now Consent that I reveal. But when at length Ten times the sun returning from the south Had strow'd with flowers the verdant earth, and fill'd 430 The groves with music, pleased I then beheld The term of those long errors drawing nigh. Nor yet, I said, will I sit down within The walls of Athens, till my feet have trod The Cretan soil, have pierced those reverend haunts Whence Law and Civil Concord issued forth As from their ancient home, and still to Greece Their wisest, loftiest discipline proclaim. Straight where Amnisus, mart of wealthy ships, Appears beneath famed Cnossus and her towers, 440 Like the fair handmaid of a stately queen, I check'd my prow, and thence with eager steps The city of Minos enter'd. O ye gods, Who taught the leaders of the simpler time By written words to curb the untoward will Of mortals, how within that generous isle Have ye the triumphs of your power display'd Munificent! Those splendid merchants, lords Of traffic and the sea, with what delight I saw them, at their public meal, like sons 450 Of the same household, join the plainer sort Whose wealth was only freedom! whence to these Vile envy, and to those fantastic pride, Alike was strange; but noble concord still Cherish'd the strength untamed, the rustic faith, Of their first fathers. Then the growing race, How pleasing to behold them in their schools, Their sports, their labours, ever placed within, O shade of Minos! thy controlling eye. Here was a docile band in tuneful tones 460 Thy laws pronouncing, or with lofty hymns Praising the bounteous gods, or, to preserve Their country's heroes from oblivious night, Resounding what the Muse inspired of old; There, on the verge of manhood, others met, In heavy armour through the heats of noon To march, the rugged mountain's height to climb With measured swiftness, from the hard-bent bow To send resistless arrows to their mark, Or for the fame of prowess to contend, 470 Now wrestling, now with fists and staves opposed, Now with the biting falchion, and the fence Of brazen shields; while still the warbling flute Presided o'er the combat, breathing strains Grave, solemn, soft; and changing headlong spite To thoughtful resolution cool and clear. Such I beheld those islanders renown'd, So tutor'd from their birth to meet in war Each bold invader, and in peace to guard That living flame of reverence for their laws, 480 Which nor the storms of fortune, nor the flood Of foreign wealth diffused o'er all the land, Could quench or slacken. First of human names In every Cretan's heart was Minos still; And holiest far, of what the sun surveys Through his whole course, were those primeval seats Which with religious footsteps he had taught Their sires to approach; the wild Dictaean cave Where Jove was born: the ever verdant meads Of Ida, and the spacious grotto, where 490 His active youth he pass'd, and where his throne Yet stands mysterious; whither Minos came Each ninth returning year, the king of gods And mortals there in secret to consult On justice, and the tables of his law To inscribe anew. Oft also with like zeal Great Rhea's mansion from the Cnossian gates Men visit; nor less oft the antique fane Built on that sacred spot, along the banks Of shady Theron, where benignant Jove 500 And his majestic consort join'd their hands And spoke their nuptial vows. Alas, 'twas there That the dire fame of Athens sunk in bonds I first received; what time an annual feast Had summon'd all the genial country round, By sacrifice and pomp to bring to mind That first great spousal; while the enamour'd youths And virgins, with the priest before the shrine, Observe the same pure ritual, and invoke The same glad omens. There, among the crowd 510 Of strangers from those naval cities drawn Which deck, like gems, the island's northern shore, A merchant of AEgina I descried, My ancient host; but, forward as I sprung To meet him, he, with dark dejected brow, Stopp'd half averse; and, "O Athenian guest," He said, "art thou in Crete, these joyful rites Partaking? Know thy laws are blotted out: Thy country kneels before a tyrant's throne." He added names of men, with hostile deeds 520 Disastrous; which obscure and indistinct I heard: for, while he spake, my heart grew cold And my eyes dim; the altars and their train No more were present to me; how I fared, Or whither turn'd, I know not; nor recall Aught of those moments, other than the sense Of one who struggles in oppressive sleep, And, from the toils of some distressful dream To break away, with palpitating heart, Weak limbs, and temples bathed in death-like dew, 530 Makes many a painful effort. When at last The sun and nature's face again appear'd, Not far I found me, where the public path, Winding through cypress groves and swelling meads, From Cnossus to the cave of Jove ascends. Heedless I follow'd on; till soon the skirts Of Ida rose before me, and the vault Wide opening pierced the mountain's rocky side. Entering within the threshold, on the ground I flung me, sad, faint, overworn with toil.' 540

* * * * *

THE BEGINNING OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION, 1770.

One effort more, one cheerful sally more, Our destined course will finish; and in peace Then, for an offering sacred to the powers Who lent us gracious guidance, we will then Inscribe a monument of deathless praise, O my adventurous song! With steady speed Long hast thou, on an untried voyage bound, Sail'd between earth and heaven: hast now survey'd, Stretch'd out beneath thee, all the mazy tracts Of Passion and Opinion; like a waste 10 Of sands and flowery lawns and tangling woods, Where mortals roam bewilder'd: and hast now Exulting soar'd among the worlds above, Or hover'd near the eternal gates of heaven, If haply the discourses of the gods, A curious, but an unpresuming guest, Thou mightst partake, and carry back some strain Of divine wisdom, lawful to repeat, And apt to be conceived of man below. A different task remains; the secret paths 20 Of early genius to explore: to trace Those haunts where Fancy her predestined sons, Like to the demigods of old, doth nurse Remote from eyes profane. Ye happy souls Who now her tender discipline obey, Where dwell ye? What wild river's brink at eve Imprint your steps? What solemn groves at noon Use ye to visit, often breaking forth In rapture 'mid your dilatory walk, Or musing, as in slumber, on the green?-- 30 Would I again were with you!-O ye dales Of Tyne, and ye most ancient woodlands; where, Oft as the giant flood obliquely strides, And his banks open, and his lawns extend, Stops short the pleased traveller to view Presiding o'er the scene some rustic tower Founded by Norman or by Saxon hands: O ye Northumbrian shades, which overlook The rocky pavement and the mossy falls Of solitary Wensbeck's limpid stream; 40 How gladly I recall your well-known seats Beloved of old, and that delightful time When all alone, for many a summer's day, I wander'd through your calm recesses, led In silence by some powerful hand unseen.

Nor will I e'er forget you; nor shall e'er The graver tasks of manhood, or the advice Of vulgar wisdom, move me to disclaim Those studies which possess'd me in the dawn Of life, and fix'd the colour of my mind 50 For every future year: whence even now From sleep I rescue the clear hours of morn, And, while the world around lies overwhelm'd In idle darkness, am alive to thoughts Of honourable fame, of truth divine Or moral, and of minds to virtue won By the sweet magic of harmonious verse; The themes which now expect us. For thus far On general habits, and on arts which grow Spontaneous in the minds of all mankind, 60 Hath dwelt our argument; and how, self-taught, Though seldom conscious of their own employ, In Nature's or in Fortune's changeful scene Men learn to judge of Beauty, and acquire Those forms set up, as idols in the soul For love and zealous praise. Yet indistinct, In vulgar bosoms, and unnoticed lie These pleasing stores, unless the casual force Of things external prompt the heedless mind To recognise her wealth. But some there are 70 Conscious of Nature, and the rule which man O'er Nature holds; some who, within themselves Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance And momentary passion, can at will Call up these fair exemplars of the mind; Review their features; scan the secret laws Which bind them to each other: and display By forms, or sounds, or colours, to the sense Of all the world their latent charms display; Even as in Nature's frame (if such a word, 80 If such a word, so bold, may from the lips Of man proceed) as in this outward frame Of things, the great Artificer portrays His own immense idea. Various names These among mortals bear, as various signs They use, and by peculiar organs speak To human sense. There are who, by the flight Of air through tubes with moving stops distinct, Or by extended chords in measure taught To vibrate, can assemble powerful sounds 90 Expressing every temper of the mind From every cause, and charming all the soul With passion void of care. Others mean time The rugged mass of metal, wood, or stone, Patiently taming; or with easier hand Describing lines, and with more ample scope Uniting colours; can to general sight Produce those permanent and perfect forms, Those characters of heroes and of gods, Which from the crude materials of the world, 100 Their own high minds created. But the chief Are poets; eloquent men, who dwell on earth To clothe whate'er the soul admires or loves With language and with numbers. Hence to these A field is open'd wide as Nature's sphere; Nay, wider: various as the sudden acts Of human wit, and vast as the demands Of human will. The bard nor length, nor depth, Nor place, nor form controls. To eyes, to ears, To every organ of the copious mind, 110 He offereth all its treasures. Him the hours, The seasons him obey, and changeful Time Sees him at will keep measure with his flight, At will outstrip it. To enhance his toil, He summoneth, from the uttermost extent Of things which God hath taught him, every form Auxiliar, every power; and all beside Excludes imperious. His prevailing hand Gives, to corporeal essence, life and sense And every stately function of the soul. 120 The soul itself to him obsequious lies, Like matter's passive heap; and as he wills, To reason and affection he assigns Their just alliances, their just degrees: Whence his peculiar honours; whence the race Of men who people his delightful world, Men genuine and according to themselves, Transcend as far the uncertain sons of earth, As earth itself to his delightful world, The palm of spotless Beauty doth resign. 130

* * * * *

ODES ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, IN TWO BOOKS.