"Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves! Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, His eye still smiling, and his heart content. Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labour went. Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave. None prowl'd for prey, none watch'd to circumvent; To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave: No vassal fear'd his lord, no tyrant fear'd his slave. 39 "But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared To pierce those hallow'd bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam Pour'd on the vision of the enraptured bard, That paints the charms of that delicious theme. Then hail, sweet Fancy's ray! and hail, the dream That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe! Careless what others of my choice may deem, I long, where Love and Fancy lead, to go And meditate on Heaven; enough of Earth I know." 40 "I cannot blame thy choice," the Sage replied, "For soft and smooth are Fancy's flowery ways. And yet even there, if left without a guide, The young adventurer unsafely plays. Eyes dazzled long by fiction's gaudy rays, In modest truth no light nor beauty find. And who, my child, would trust the meteor blaze, That soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind, More dark and helpless far, than if it ne'er had shined? 41 "Fancy enervates, while it soothes the heart; And while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight: To joy each heightening charm it can impart, But wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night. And often, where no real ills affright, Its visionary fiends, an endless train, Assail with equal or superior might, And through the throbbing heart, and dizzy brain, And shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mortal pain. 42 "And yet, alas! the real ills of life Claim the full vigour of a mind prepared, Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife, Its guide experience, and truth its guard. We fare on earth as other men have fared. Were they successful? Let us not despair, Was disappointment oft their sole reward? Yet shall their tale instruct, if it declare How they have borne the load ourselves are doom'd to bear. 43 "What charms the Historic Muse adorn, from spoils, And blood, and tyrants, when she wings her flight, To hail the patriot prince, whose pious toils, Sacred to science, liberty, and right, And peace, through every age divinely bright Shall shine the boast and wonder of mankind! Sees yonder sun, from his meridian height, A lovelier scene than virtue thus enshrined In power, and man with man for mutual aid combined? 44