'Vain are thy thoughts, O child of mortal birth! And impotent thy tongue. Is thy short span Capacious of this universal frame?-- Thy wisdom all-sufficient? Thou, alas! Dost thou aspire to judge between the Lord Of Nature and his works--to lift thy voice Against the sovereign order he decreed, All good and lovely--to blaspheme the bands Of tenderness innate and social love, 250 Holiest of things! by which the general orb Of being, as by adamantine links, Was drawn to perfect union, and sustain'd From everlasting? Hast thou felt the pangs Of softening sorrow, of indignant zeal, So grievous to the soul, as thence to wish The ties of Nature broken from thy frame, That so thy selfish, unrelenting heart Might cease to mourn its lot, no longer then The wretched heir of evils not its own? 260 O fair benevolence of generous minds! O man by Nature form'd for all mankind!' He spoke; abash'd and silent I remain'd, As conscious of my tongue's offence, and awed Before his presence, though my secret soul Disdain'd the imputation. On the ground I fix'd my eyes, till from his airy couch He stoop'd sublime, and touching with his hand My dazzling forehead, 'Raise thy sight,' he cried, 'And let thy sense convince thy erring tongue.' 270 I look'd, and lo! the former scene was changed; For verdant alleys and surrounding trees, A solitary prospect, wide and wild, Rush'd on my senses. 'Twas a horrid pile Of hills with many a shaggy forest mix'd, With many a sable cliff and glittering stream. Aloft, recumbent o'er the hanging ridge, The brown woods waved; while ever-trickling springs Wash'd from the naked roots of oak and pine The crumbling soil; and still at every fall 280 Down the steep windings of the channel'd rock, Remurmuring rush'd the congregated floods With hoarser inundation; till at last They reach'd a grassy plain, which from the skirts Of that high desert spread her verdant lap, And drank the gushing moisture, where confined In one smooth current, o'er the lilied vale Clearer than glass it flow'd. Autumnal spoils Luxuriant spreading to the rays of morn, Blush'd o'er the cliffs, whose half-encircling mound 290 As in a sylvan theatre enclosed That flowery level. On the river's brink I spied a fair pavilion, which diffused Its floating umbrage 'mid the silver shade Of osiers. Now the western sun reveal'd Between two parting cliffs his golden orb, And pour'd across the shadow of the hills, On rocks and floods, a yellow stream of light That cheer'd the solemn scene. My listening powers Were awed, and every thought in silence hung, 300 And wondering expectation. Then the voice Of that celestial power, the mystic show Declaring, thus my deep attention call'd:--