One boundleſs blaze; ten thouſand trembling fires,
And dancing luſtres, where th' unſteady eye
Reſtleſs, and dazzled wanders unconfin'd
O'er all this field of glories: ſpacious field;
And worthy of the Maſter: he, whoſe hand
With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile,
Inſcrib'd the myſtic tablet; hung on high
To public gaze, and ſaid, adore, O man!
The finger of thy God. From what pure wells
Of milky light, what ſoft o'erflowing urn,
Are all theſe lamps ſo fill'd? theſe friendly lamps,
For ever ſtreaming o'er the azure deep
To point our path, and light us to our home.
How ſoft they ſlide along their lucid ſpheres!
And ſilent as the foot of time, fulfil
Their deſtin'd courſes: Nature's ſelf is huſh'd,
And, but a ſcatter'd leaf, which ruſtles thro'
The thick-wove foliage, not a ſound is heard
