Next to the seats, well stored with works divine, An ample space, PHILOSOPHY! is thine; Our reason's guide, by whose assisting light We trace the moral bounds of wrong and right; Our guide through nature, from the sterile clay, To the bright orbs of yon celestial way! 'Tis thine, the great, the golden chain to trace, Which runs through all, connecting race with race; Save where those puzzling, stubborn links remain, Which thy inferior light pursues in vain:-- How vice and virtue in the soul contend; How widely differ, yet how nearly blend! What various passions war on either part, And now confirm, now melt the yielding heart: How Fancy loves around the world to stray, While Judgement slowly picks his sober way; The stores of memory, and the flights sublime Of genius, bound by neither space nor time;-- All these divine Philosophy explores, Till, lost in awe, she wonders and adores. From these, descending to the earth, she turns, And matter, in its various form, discerns; She parts the beamy light with skill profound, Metes the thin air, and weighs the flying sound; 'Tis hers, the lightning from the clouds to call, And teach the fiery mischief where to fall. Yet more her volumes teach,--on these we look As abstracts drawn from Nature's larger book: Here, first described, the torpid earth appears, And next, the vegetable robe it wears; Where flowery tribes, in valleys, fields and groves, Nurse the still flame, and feed the silent loves; Loves, where no grief, nor joy, nor bliss, nor pain, Warm the glad heart or vex the labouring brain; But as the green blood moves along the blade, The bed of Flora on the branch is made; Where, without passion, love instinctive lives, And gives new life, unconscious that it gives. Advancing still in Nature's maze, we trace, In dens and burning plains, her savage race; With those tame tribes who on their lord attend, And find, in man, a master and a friend: Man crowns the scene, a world of wonders new, A moral world, that well demands our view.