Let no presuming impious railer tax
Creative Wisdom, as if ought was form'd
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little, haughty ignorance pronounce
His works unwise; of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vision of his mind?
Thus on the concave of a sounding dome,
On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art!
Wanders a critic fly; his feeble ray
Extends an inch around, yet blindly bold
He dares dislike the structure of the whole.
And lives the man, whose universal eye
Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things;
Mark'd their dependance so, and firm accord,
As with unfaultering accent to conclude
That  availeth nought? Has any seen
The mighty chain of beings, lessening down
From  to the brink
Of dreary  desolate abyss!
Recoiling giddy thought: or with sharp glance,
Such as remotely-wafting spirits use,
Beheld the glories of the little world?
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend,
And hymns of heavenly wonder, to that
Whole wisdom shines as lovely on our minds,
As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun.