And Rome again is free! Is aught so fair 500 In all the dewy landscapes of the Spring, In the bright eye of Hesper, or the morn, In Nature's fairest forms, is aught so fair As virtuous friendship? as the candid blush Of him who strives with fortune to be just? The graceful tear that streams for others' woes? Or the mild majesty of private life, Where Peace with ever blooming olive crowns The gate; where Honour's liberal hands effuse Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 510 Of Innocence and Love protect the scene? Once more search, undismay'd, the dark profound Where Nature works in secret; view the beds Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms Of atoms moving with incessant change Their elemental round; behold the seeds Of being, and the energy of life Kindling the mass with ever-active flame; Then to the secrets of the working mind 520 Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call Her fleet, ideal band; and bid them, go! Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour That saw the heavens created: then declare If aught were found in those external scenes To move thy wonder now. For what are all The forms which brute, unconscious matter wears, Greatness of bulk, or symmetry of parts? Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows The superficial impulse; dull their charms, 530 And satiate soon, and pall the languid eye. Not so the moral species, nor the powers Of genius and design; the ambitious mind There sees herself: by these congenial forms Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act She bends each nerve, and meditates well pleased Her features in the mirror. For, of all The inhabitants of earth, to man alone Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye To Truth's eternal measures; thence to frame 540 The sacred laws of action and of will, Discerning justice from unequal deeds, And temperance from folly. But beyond This energy of Truth, whose dictates bind Assenting reason, the benignant Sire, To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, Has added bright Imagination's rays: Where Virtue, rising from the awful depth Of Truth's mysterious bosom, [Endnote H] doth forsake The unadorn'd condition of her birth; 550 And dress'd by Fancy in ten thousand hues, Assumes a various feature, to attract, With charms responsive to each gazer's eye, The hearts of men. Amid his rural walk, The ingenuous youth, whom solitude inspires With purest wishes, from the pensive shade Beholds her moving, like a virgin muse That wakes her lyre to some indulgent theme Of harmony and wonder: while among The herd of servile minds, her strenuous form 560 Indignant flashes on the patriot's eye, And through the rolls of memory appeals To ancient honour; or in act serene,