"Hail, sacred Polity, by Freedom rear'd! Hail, sacred Freedom, when by law restrain'd! Without you, what were man? A grovelling herd, In darkness, wretchedness, and want enchain'd. Sublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reign'd In arts unrivall'd! O, to latest days, In Albion may your influence unprofaned To godlike worth the generous bosom raise, And prompt the sage's lore, and fire the poet's lays! 45 "But now let other themes our care engage. For, lo, with modest yet majestic grace, To curb Imagination's lawless rage, And from within the cherish'd heart to brace, Philosophy appears! The gloomy race By Indolence and moping Fancy bred, Fear, Discontent, Solicitude, give place; And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead, While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed! 46 "Then waken from long lethargy to life [4] The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought; Then jarring appetites forego their strife, A strife by ignorance to madness wrought. Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought With fell revenge; lust that defies control, With gluttony and death. The mind untaught Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl; As Phoebus to the world, is science to the soul. 47 "And Reason now through number, time, and space, Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye, And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace, Whose long progression leads to Deity. Can mortal strength presume to soar so high? Can mortal sight, so oft bedimm'd with tears, Such glory bear?--for, lo! the shadows fly From Nature's face; confusion disappears, And order charms the eye, and harmony the ears! 48 "In the deep windings of the grove, no more The hag obscene and grisly phantom dwell; Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell; No wizard mutters the tremendous spell, Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon; Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell, To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon, Or chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon. 49 "Many a long lingering year, in lonely isle, Stunn'd with the eternal turbulence of waves, Lo! with dim eyes, that never learn'd to smile, And trembling hands, the famish'd native craves Of Heaven his wretched fare; shivering in caves, Or scorch'd on rocks, he pines from day to day; But Science gives the word; and, lo! he braves The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray, And to a happier land wafts merrily away! 50