Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land.

He Pass'd The Flaming Bounds Of Place And Time: The Living Throne, The Sapphire Blaze, Where Angels Tremble While They Gaze, He Saw; But Blasted With Excess Of Light, Closed His Eyes In Endless Night.

The Different Steps And Degrees Of Education May Be Compared To The Artificer's Operations Upon Marble; It Is One Thing To Dig It Out Of The Quarry, And Another To Square It, To Give It Gloss And Lustre, Call Forth Every Beautiful Spot And Vein, Shape It Into A Column, Or Animate It Into A Statue.

Hands That The Rod Of Empire Might Have Sway'd, Or Waked To Ecstasy The Living Lyre.

Chill Penury Repress'd Their Noble Rage, And Froze The Genial Current Of The Soul.

Low On His Funeral Couch He Lies!