Classic Poem

I.

Hail Nature's Lord! from Thee their Source,
Brute Matter flows, and Thinking Mind,
Blest Center, whose attractive Force,
Enlighten'd Souls resistless find.

II.

Mine, while it here an Exile lives,
Detain'd in Clay, with Night opprest,
Feels she's misplac'd, and upward strives
To Thee, and Heav'n its Seat of Rest.

III.

See, as the Hart in Syria 's Sand,
Gasping with Heat, with Labour spent,
Viewing with eager Eyes the Land,
Pants for the cooling Element.

IV.

My Soul, great Power, her Way would wing
With like Desire, and swifter Speed,
To Thee, O unexhausted Spring!
Whence living Streams of Joy proceed.

V.

Which cheer the Gardens of the Blest,
And all the Heav'nly Walks revive,
Which Saints almost with Bliss oprest
Do ever Drink, and ever Live.

VI.

Freely the Miser may for me,
Amass vast Heaps of Guinea 's Oar,
Lord of the Indies let him be,
So Thou art Mine, whom I adore.

VII.

With Science let the Scholar's Brain,
And pure Ideas overflow,
Let him all Nature's Works explain,
So I the Lord of Nature know.

VIII.

While of my Wish I am secure,
The Soveraign Good at which I aim,
I'm blest with Pleasure, Wealth and Pow'r,
And envy not the Hero's Fame.