Dilates with kindling majeſty; her mien
Breaths a diviner ſpirit, and enlarg'd
Each ſpreading feature, with an ampler port
And bolder tone, exulting, rides the ſtorm,
And joys amidſt the tempeſt. Then ſhe reaps
Her golden harveſt; fruits of nobler growth
And higher reliſh than meridian ſuns
Can ever ripen; fair, heroic deeds,
And godlike action. 'Tis not meats, and drinks,
And balmy airs, and vernal ſuns, and ſhowers
That feed and ripen minds; 'tis toil and danger;
And wreſtling with the ſtubborn gripe of fate;
And war, and ſharp diſtreſs, and paths obſcure
And dubious. The bold ſwimmer joys not ſo
To feel the proud waves under him, and beat
With ſtrong repelling arm the billowy ſurge;
The generous courſer does not ſo exult
To toſs his floating mane againſt the wind,
