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THE CHACE.
Book IV.
To this gross Clay confin'd, flutters on Earth
With less ambitious Wing; unskill'd to range
From Orb to Orb, where Newton leads the Way;
And view with piercing Eyes, the grand Machine,
Worlds above Worlds; subservient to his Voice,
Who veil'd in clouded Majesty, alone
Gives Light to all; bids the great System move,
And changefull Seasons in their Turns advance,
Unmov'd, unchang'd, himself. Yet this at least 525
Grant me propitious, an inglorious Life,
Calm and serene, nor lost in false Pursuits
Of Wealth or Honours; but enough to raise
My drooping Friends, preventing modest Want,
That dares not ask. And if to crown my Joys, 530
Ye grant me Health, that, ruddy in my Cheeks,
Blooms in my Life's Decline; Fields, Woods, and Streams,
With less ambitious Wing; unskill'd to range
From Orb to Orb, where Newton leads the Way;
And view with piercing Eyes, the grand Machine,
Worlds above Worlds; subservient to his Voice,
Who veil'd in clouded Majesty, alone
Gives Light to all; bids the great System move,
And changefull Seasons in their Turns advance,
Unmov'd, unchang'd, himself. Yet this at least 525
Grant me propitious, an inglorious Life,
Calm and serene, nor lost in false Pursuits
Of Wealth or Honours; but enough to raise
My drooping Friends, preventing modest Want,
That dares not ask. And if to crown my Joys, 530
Ye grant me Health, that, ruddy in my Cheeks,
Blooms in my Life's Decline; Fields, Woods, and Streams,
Each
