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High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit

Of vegetable gold; and next to life,

Our death, the tree of knowledge, grew fast by,
Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill.
Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill
Passed underneath engulfed; for God had thrown
That mountain as his garden-mould high-raised
Upon the rapid current, which through veins
Of porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn,
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill
Watered the garden; thence united fell
Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood,
Which from his darksome passage now appears,
And, now divided into four main streams,

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Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
And country, whereof here needs no account;

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But rather to tell how, if art could tell,

How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,
Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy error under pendent shades
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed

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Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art
In beds and curious knots, but nature's boon
Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote
The open field, and where the unpierced shade
Imbrowned the noontide bowers: thus was this place

A happy rural seat of various views;

Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm;
Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,

If true, here only, and of delicious taste:
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks
Grazing the tender herb, were interposed,

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Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lap

Of some irriguous valley spread her store,
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose:
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall
Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake,
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned
Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.
The birds their choir apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on the eternal Spring.

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EXERCISE XL.

From Night VI.-DR. YOUNG.

Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings,
Our boast but ill deserve. If these alone
Assist our flight, Fame's flight is Glory's fall.
Heart merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high,
Our height is but the gibbet of our name.
A celebrated wretch when I behold,
When I behold a genius bright and base,
Of towering talents and terrestrial aims,

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Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere,
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal,
With rubbish mixed, and glittering in the dust:
Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight,
At once compassion soft, and envy, rise, —

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But wherefore envy? talents, angel-bright,
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In false Ambition's hand, to finish faults
Illustrious, and give infamy renown.

Great ill is an achievement of great powers.
Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray.
Reason the means, affections choose our end.
Means have no merit, if our end amiss.

If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain.
Hearts are proprietors of all applause.

Right ends and means make wisdom: worldly-wise
Is but half witted at its highest praise.

Let genius, then, despair to make thee great;
Nor flatter station. What is station high?
"Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts and begs;
It begs an alms of homage from the throng,
And oft the throng denies its charity.
Monarchs and ministers are awful names!
Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir.
Religion, public Order, both exact
External homage and a supple knee,

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To beings pompously set up to serve

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The meanest slave: all more is Merit's due,
Her sacred and inviolable right,

Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man.

Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth;
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there.

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Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account,
And vote the mantle into majesty.
Let the small savage boast his silver fur,
His royal robe, unborrowed and unbought,
His own, descending fairly from his sires.
Shall man be proud to wear his livery,
And souls in ermine scorn a soul without?
Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize?

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Pigmies are pigmies still, though perched on Alps;

And pyramids are pyramids in vales.

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself:
Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids :

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Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall.

Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause?

The cause is lodged in immortality.

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Hear and assent. Thy bosom burns for power;
What station charms thee? I'll install thee there;
"T is thine. And art thou greater than before?

Then thou before wast something less than man.
Has thy new post betrayed thee into pride?
That treacherous pride betrays thy dignity;
That pride defames humanity, and calls

The being mean which staffs or strings can raise :
That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars,
From blindness bold, and towering to the skies.
'T is born of Ignorance, which knows not man:
An angel's second, nor his second long.
A Nero, quitting his imperial throne,
And courting glory from the tinkling string,
But faintly shadows an immortal soul,
With empire's self, to pride or rapture fired.
If nobler motives minister no cure,
Even vanity forbids thee to be vain.

High worth is elevated place: 't is more;

It makes the post stand candidate for thee;
Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest man;
Though no exchequer it commands, 't is wealth;
And, though it wears no ribbon, 't is renown;
Renown that would not quit thee, though disgraced,
Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile.
Other ambition Nature interdicts;

Nature proclaims it most absurd in man,
By pointing at his origin and end;

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Milk and a swathe, at first, his whole demand;
His whole domain, at last, a turf or stone;
To whom, between, a world may seem too small.
'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man;
How little they, who think aught great below!
All our ambitions Death defeats, but one,
And that it crowns.

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EXERCISE XLI.

Contemplation of the Starry Heavens.-DR. YOUNG.

Stars teach, as well as shine.

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This prospect vast, what is it?-Weighed aright, 'Tis Nature's system of divinity,

And every student of the night inspires:

"T is elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand.

Why from yon arch,

that infinite of space,
With infinite of lucid orbs replete,
Which set the living firmament on fire, -
At the first glance, in such an overwhelm
Of wonderful, on man's astonished sight
Rushes Omnipotence? To curb our pride,
Our reason rouse, and lead it to that Power

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Whose love lets down these silver chains of light,

To draw up man's ambition to Himself,

And bind our chaste affections to His throne.

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And see! Day's amiable sister sends

Her invitation, in the softest rays

Of mitigated lustre;-courts thy sight,
Which suffers from her tyrant brother's blaze.
Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies,
Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye:

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