A POEM Sacred to the Memory of Sir ISAAC NEWTON.
[]SHALL the great Soul of NEWTON quit this Earth,
To mingle with his Stars, and every Muſe,
Aſtoniſh'd into Silence, ſhun the Weight
Of Honours due to his illuſtrious Name!
But what can Man?—Even now the Sons of Light,
[6] In Strains ſuch as delight the Ear of GOD,
Hail his Arrival on the Coaſts of Bliſs.
Yet am not I deterr'd, tho' high the Theme,
And ſung to Harps of Angels; for with you,
Aetherial Flames! ambitious I aſpire
In Nature's general Symphony to join.
AND what new Wonders can ye ſhow your Gueſt!
Who, while on this dim Spot where Mortals toil
Clouded in Duſt, from Motion's ſimple Laws
Could trace the boundleſs Hand of Providence,
Wide-working thro' this univerſal Frame.
HAVE ye not liſten'd while he bound the Suns,
And Planets to their Spheres! Th' unequal Task
Of Humankind till then. Oft had they roll'd
O'er erring Man the Year, and oft diſgrac'd
The Pride of Schools, before their Courſe was known
Full in its Cauſes and Effects to Him,
All-piercing Sage! Who ſat not down and dreamt
Romantic Schemes, defended by the Din
Of ſpecious Words, and Tyranny of Names,
But bidding his amazing Mind attend,
[7] And with heroick Patience Years on Years
Deep-ſearching, ſaw at laſt the Syſtem dawn,
And ſhine, of all his Race, on him alone.
WHAT were his Raptures then! how pure! how ſtrong!
And what the Triumphs of old Greece and Rome,
By his diminiſh'd, but the Pride of Boys
In ſome ſmall Fray victorious! When inſtead
Of ſhatter'd Parcels of this Earth uſurp'd
By Violence unmanly, and ſore Deeds
Of Cruelty and Blood, Nature herſelf
Stood all ſubdu'd by him, and open laid
Her every latent Glory to his View.
AND firſt our ſolar Syſtem he ſurvey'd
With accurate Ken, and by the mingling Power
Of Gravitation and Projection ſaw
The whole in ſilent Harmony revolve.
Drawn to his lengthen'd Eye th' attending Moons,
Deſign'd to chear remoter Planets, were
By him in all their mix'd Proportions ſeen.
He alſo fix'd the wandering Queen of Night,
Whether ſhe wanes into a ſcanty Orb▪
[8] Or waxing broad with her pale ſhadowy Light
In a ſoft Deluge overflows the Sky.
Her every Motion clear diſcerning, He
Adjuſted to th' obſequious Main, and taught
Why now the mighty Maſs of Waters ſwells
Reſiſtleſs, heaving on the broken Rocks,
And the full River turning; till again
The Tide revertive, unattracted, leaves
A Yellow Waſte of idle Sands behind.
THEN breaking hence, he took his ardent Flight
Thro' the blue Infinite; and every Star,
Which the clear Concave of a Winter's Night
Pours on the Eye, or Aſtronomic Tube,
Far-ſtretching, ſnatches from the dark Abyſs,
Or ſuch as farther in ſucceſſive Skies
To Fancy only ſhine, at his Approach
Blaz'd into Suns. Th' enlivening Centre each
Of an harmonious Syſtem. All, combin'd,
And rul'd unerring by that ſingle Power
Which draws the Stone projected to the Ground.
O UNPROFUSE Magnificence divine!
O Wiſdom truly perfect! thus to call
[9] From a few Cauſes ſuch a Scheme of Things,
Effects ſo various, beautiful, and great,
An Univerſe compleat! And O Belov'd
Of Heaven! into th' Almighty's Councils thus
To be admitted, and allow'd to ſcan
The riſing, moving, wide-eſtabliſh'd Frame.
HE too, unbaffled in his Aim, purſu'd
The Comet to' the long Elliptic Curve,
As round innumerous Worlds he wound his Way,
Till to the Forehead of the Evening-Sky
Reduc'd, the blazing Wonder glares anew.
THE Heavens are all his own. Finiſh'd by him
The fair Diſcovery lies; and every Eye
May lay the uſeleſs Teleſcope aſide,
Unleſs it be to hold the great Acqueſts
By Newton made: Who from the wild Domain
Of the * French Dreamer reſcu'd Heaven and Earth.
All Europe ſtood appall'd; but found it vain
To keep at Odds with Demonſtration ſtrong,
[10] And lingering to reſiſt the awakening Force
Of Truth. At once their pleaſing Viſions fled,
With the gay Shadows of the Morning mix'd,
When Newton roſe, our Philoſophic Sun.
TH' Aerial Flow of Sound was known to Him,
From whence it firſt in wavy Circles breaks,
Till the touch'd Organ takes the Meſſage in.
Nor could the darting Beam, of Speed immenſe,
Eſcape his ſwift Purſuit, and meaſuring Glance.
Even Light it ſelf, which every thing diſplays,
Shone undiſcover'd, till his brighter Mind
Untwiſted all the ſhining Robe of Day;
And from the whitening, undiſtinguiſh'd Blaze,
Collecting every Ray into his Kind,
To the charm'd Eye educ'd the gorgeous Train
Of Parent-Colours. Firſt the flaming Red
Sprung vivid forth; the tawny Orange next;
And then delicious Yellow; by whoſe Side
Fell the kind Beams of all-refreſhing Green.
Then the pure Blue that ſwells autumnal Skies
Aetherial play'd; and then of ſadder Hue
Emerg [...]d the deepen'd Indico, as when
The heavy-skirted Evening droops with Froſt.
[11] While the laſt Gleanings of refracted Light
Dy'd in the fainting Violetaway.
Theſe, when the Clouds diſtil the roſy Shower,
Shine out diſtinct adown the watry Bow,
While o'er our Heads the dewy Viſion bends
Delightful, melting on the Fields beneath.
Myriads of mingling Dies from theſe reſult,
And Myriads ſtill remain, th' exhauſtleſs Source
Of Beauty ever-fluſhing, ever-new!
DID ever Poet image ought ſo fair,
Dreaming in whiſpering Groves, by the hoarſe Brook!
Or Prophet, to whoſe Rapture Heav'n deſcends!
Even now the ſetting Sun and liveri'd Clouds,
Seen, Greenwich, from thy lovely Heights, declare
How juſt, how beauteous the refractive Law.
THE noiſeleſs Tide of Time, all bearing down
To vaſt Eternity's unbounded Sea
Where the green Iſlands of the Happy ſhine,
He backward ſtem'd alone; and to it's Source
Aſcending, mark'd it's Periods, and hung out
His Lights at equal Diſtances to guide
Hiſtorian, wilder'd on his darkſome Way.
[12]
BUT who can number up his Labours? Who
His high Diſcoveries ſing? When but a few
Of the deep-ſtudying Race can ſtretch their Minds
To image what he knew, as clear as they
The Truths ſelf-evident with which he link'd
His far theſt Views. For is there ought that's great.
That's wonderful, and hard, deterring Search?
That was his Prize! and worthy of his Toil
Unfailing, Who the lonely Monarch reign'd
Of Science thin-inhabited below.
WHAT Wonder then that his Devotion ſwell'd
Reſponſive to his Knowledge! For could he,
Whoſe piercing mental Eye diffuſive ſaw
The finiſh'd Univerſity of Things,
In all its Order, Magnitude, and Parts,
Forbear inceſſant to adore that Power
Who fills, ſuſtains, and actuates the whole.
SAY, ye who beſt can tell, ye happy few,
Who ſaw him in the ſofteſt Lights of Life,
All unwithheld, indulging to his Friends
The vaſt, unborrow'd Treaſures of his Mind.
O ſpeak the wondrous Man! how mild, how calm,
[13] How greatly humble, how divinely good,
How firm, eſtabliſh'd on eternal Truth,
Pure as his Faith, and active as his Love,
Fervent in doing well, with every Nerve
Still preſſing on, forgetful of the Paſt,
And panting for Perfection! far above
Thoſe little Cares, and viſionary Joys
That ſo befool the fond, impaſſion'd Heart
Of over-cheated, ever-truſting Man.
AND ſay, ye downward, gloomy-minded Tribe,
Ye who, unconſcious of thoſe nobler Flights
That reach impatient at immortal Life,
Againſt the Prime, indearing Privilege
Of Being dare contend, ſay can a Soul
Of ſuch extenſive, deep, tremendous Powers▪
Enlarging ſtill, be but a finer Breath
Of Spirits dancing thro' their Tubes awhile▪
And then for ever loſt in vacant Air?
BUT hark! Methinks I hear a warning Voice,
Solemn as when ſome awful Change is come,
Sound thro' the World—"He's dead.—The Meaſure's full,
"And I reſign my Charge.—Ye mouldering Stones
[14] That build the towring Pyramid, the proud
Triumphal Arch, the Monument effac'd
By ruthleſs Ruin, and whate'er ſupports
The worſhip'd Name of grey Antiquity,
Down to the Duſt! What Grandeur can ye boaſt
While Newton lifts his Column to the Skies
Beyond the Waſte of Time!—Let no weak Drop
Be ſhed for him. The Beauty in her Bloom
Cut off, the Joyous Youth, and darling Child,
Theſe are the Tombs that claim the tender Tear,
And Elegiac Song, but Newton calls
For other Notes of Gratulation high,
That now he wanders thro' thoſe endleſs Worlds
He here ſo well deſcry'd, and wondering talks,
And Hymns their Author with his glad Compeers.
O BRITAIN'S Boaſt! Whether with Angels thou
Sitteſt in dread Diſcourſe, or Fellow Saints
Who joy to ſee the Honour of their Kind;
Or whether mounted on Cherubic Wing,
Thy ſwift Career is with the whirling Spheres,
Comparing Things with Things, in Rapture loſt
And lowly Adoration for that Light
So plenteous ray'd into thy Mind below,
[15] From Light himſelf, O look with Pity down
On Humankind, a frail, erroncous Race!
Aſſwage the Madneſs of a frantic World!
But chiefly o'er thy Country's Cauſe preſide,
And be her Genius call'd! Her Council ſteer,
Correct her Manners, and inſpire her Youth!
For, guilty as ſhe is, ſhe brought thee forth,
And glorious in thy Name; ſhe points thee out
To all her Sons, and bids them eye thy Star:
While in Expectance of th' arrouſing Blaſt,
When Time ſhall be no more, thy ſacred Duſt
Sleeps with her Kings, and dignifies the Scene.
THE END.