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Scenes inconceivable, essential, new,
All is phenomenon, and type on earth,
Who that beholds the summer's glist’ring swarms, Ten thousand thousand gaily gilded forms, In volant dance of mix'd rotation play, Bask in the beam, and beautify the day; Would think these airy wantons so adorn, Were late his vile antipathy and scorn, Prone to the dust, or reptile through the mire, And ever thence unlikely to aspire ? Or who with transient view, beholding, loathes Those crawling sects, whom vilest semblance clothes ; Who, with corruption, hold their kindred state, As by contempt, or negligence of fate; Could think, that such, revers'd by wondrous doom, Sublimer powers and brighter forms assume; From death, their future happier life derive, And though apparently entomb'd, revive ; Chang'd, through amazing transmigration rise, And wing the regions of unwonted skies ; So late depress'd, contemptible on Earth, Now elevate to Heav'n by second birth?
No fictions here to willing fraud invite, Led by the marvellous, absurd delight; No golden ass, no tale Arabians feign; Nor flitting forms of Naso's magic strain, Deucalion's
of native stone, Or armies from Cadmean harvests grown ; With many a wanton and fantastic dream, The laurel, mulberry, and bashful stream; Arachne shrunk beneath Tritonia's rage; Tithonus chang'd and garrulous with age. Not such mutations deck the chaster-song, Adorn'd with nature, and with truth made strong ; No debt to fable, or to fancy due, And only wondrous facts reveal'd to view.
Though numberless these insect tribes of air,
the falchion, and the martial mail,
Each, as reflecting on their primal state,
Meantime the Sun his fost'ring warmth bequeaths,
All by their dam's prophetic care receive
Thus nurs'd, these inconsiderate wretches grow,
When lo! strange tidings prompteach secret breast,
The fulness now of circling time arrives; Each from the long, the mortal sleep revives; The tombs pour forth their renovated dead, And, like a dream, all former scenes are fled. But O! what terms expressive may relate The change, the splendour of their new-form'd state? Their texture nor compos'd of filmy skin, Of cumbrous flesh without, or bone within, But something than corporeal more refin'd, And agile as their blithe informing mind. In ev'ry eye ten thousand brilliants blaze, And living pearls the vast horizon gaze; Gemm'd o'er their heads the mines of India gleam, And Heav'n's own wardrobe has array'd their frame;
Each spangled back bright sprinkling specks adorn, Each plume imbibes the rosy
tinctur'd morn; Spread on each wing the florid seasons glow, Shaded and verg'd with the celestial bow, Where colours blend an ever varying dye, And wanton in their gay exchanges vie.
JOHN SCOT T.
BORN 1730.-DIED 1783.
This worthy and poetical quaker was the son of a draper, in London, and was born in the borough of Southwark. His father retired to Amwell, in Hertfordshire, when our poet was only ten years old ; and this removal, together with the circumstance of his never having been inoculated for the small-pox, proved an unfortunate impediment to his education. He was put to a day-school, in the neighbouring town of Ware, where not much instruction was to be had;
and from that little he was called away, upon the first alarm of infection. Such indeed was his constant apprehension of the disease, that he lived for twenty years within twenty miles of London without visiting it more than once. About the age of seventeen, however, he betook himself to reading. His family, from their cast of opinions and society,