A Poem on Sir Isaac Newton.

Or to replenifh all the empty air

With whollbme moifture to increafe the fruits

Of earth, and blefs the labours of mankind.

O Newton, whether flies thy mighty loul,

How fhall the feeble mufe purfue through allThe vaft extent of thy unbounded thought,

That even leeks th’ unfeen receffes darkTo penetrate of providence immenle.

And thou the great dilpenler of the worldPropitious, who with infpiration taught’ftOur greateft bard to lend thy prailes forth ;

Thou, who gav’ft Newton thought; who Imil’dft lerene,When to its bounds he llretch’d his fwelling foul;

Who ftill benignant ever bleft his toil,

And deign’d to his enlight’ned mind t’ appearConfefs’d around th' interminated world :

To me O thy divine infufion grant(O thou in all lo infinitely good)

That I may fing thy everlafting works,

Thy inexhaufted ftore of providence,

In thought effulgent and relbunding verle. '

O could I fpread the wond’rous theme around,

Where the wind cools the oriental world,

To the calm breezes of the Zephir’s breath,

To where the frozen hyperborean blafts,

To where the boift’rous tempeft-leading louthFrom their deep hollow caves lend forth their ftorms.

Thou ftill indulgent parent of mankind,

Left humid emanations fhould no moreFlow from the ocean, but diflolve awayThrough the long leries of revolving time jA nd left the vital principle decay,

% 'which the air fupplics the fprings of life;

* Thou haft the fiery vifag’d comets form’d

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With