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 weightOf honours due to his illustrious name?But what can man?--Even now the sons of light,5In strains high-warbled to seraphic lyre,Hail his arrival on the coast of bliss.Yet am not I deterr'd, though high the theme,And sung to harps of angels, for with you,Ethereal flames! ambitious, I aspire10In Nature's general symphony to join.

And what new wonders can ye show your guest!Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toilClouded in dust, from motion's simple laws,Could trace the secret hand of Providence,15Wide-working through this universal frame.

Have ye not listen'd while he bound the sunsAnd planets to their spheres! th' unequal taskOf humankind till then. Oft had they roll'dO'er erring man the year, and oft disgrac'd20The pride of schools, before their course was knownFull in its causes and effects to him,All-piercing sage! who sat not down and dream'dRomantic schemes, defended by the dinOf specious words, and tyranny of names;25But, bidding his amazing mind attend,And with heroic patience years on yearsDeep-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!30And what the triumphs of old Greece and Rome,By his diminish'd, but the pride of boysIn some small fray victorious! when insteadOf shatter'd parcels of this earth usurp'dBy violence unmanly, and sore deeds35Of cruelty and blood, Nature herselfStood all subdu'd by him, and open laidHer every latent glory to his view.

All intellectual eye, our solar-roundFirst gazing through, he by the blended power40Of gravitation and projection sawThe whole in silent harmony revolve.From unassisted vision hid, the moonsTo cheer remoter planets numerous pour'd,By him in all their mingled tracts were seen.45He also fix'd the wandering Queen of Night,Whether she wanes into a scanty orb,Or, waxing broad, with her pale shadowy light,In a soft deluge overflows the sky.Her every motion clear-discerning, he50Adjusted to the mutual main, and taughtWhy now the mighty mass of water swellsResistless, heaving on the broken rocks,And the full river turning; till againThe tide revertive, unattracted, leaves55A yellow waste of idle sands behind.

Then breaking hence, he took his ardent flightThrough the blue infinite; and every star,Which the clear concave of a winter's nightPours on the eye, or astronomic tube,60Far-stretching, snatches from the dark abyss,Or such as farther in successive skiesTo fancy shine alone, at his approachBlaz'd into suns, the living centre eachOf an harmonious system: all combin'd,65And 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 callFrom a few causes such a scheme of things,70Effects so various, beautiful, and great,An universe complete! and O belov'dOf Heaven! whose well-purg'd penetrative eye,The mystic veil transpiercing, inly scann'dThe rising, moving, wide-establish'd frame.75

He, first of men, with awful wing pursu'dThe comet through the long elliptic curve,As round innumerous worlds he wound his way,Till, to the forehead of our evening skyReturn'd, the blazing wonder glares anew,80And o'er the trembling nations shakes dismay.

The heavens are all his own, from the wild ruleOf whirling vortices and circling spheresTo their first great simplicity restor'd.The schools astonish'd stood; but found it vain85To keep at odds with demonstration strong,And, unawaken'd, dream beneath the blazeOf truth. At once their pleasing visions fled,With the gay shadows of the morning mix'd,When Newton rose, our philosophic sun!90Th' aërial 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 immenseEscape his swift pursuit and measuring eye.95Ev'n Light itself, which every thing displays,Shone undiscover'd, till his brighter mindUntwisted all the shining robe of day;And, from the whitening undistinguish'd blaze,Collecting every ray into his kind,100To the charm'd eye educ'd the gorgeous trainOf parent colours. First the flaming redSprung vivid forth; the tawny orange next;And next delicious yellow; by whose sideFell the kind beams of all-refreshing green.105Then the pure blue, that swells autumnal skiesEthereal played; and then, of sadder hue,Emerg'd the deepen'd indigo, as whenThe heavy-skirted evening droops with frost;While the last gleamings of refracted light110Died in the fainting violet away.These, when the clouds distil the rosy shower,Shine out distinct adown the wat'ry bow;While o'er our heads the dewy vision bendsDelightful, melting on the fields beneath.115Myriads of mingling dyes from these result,And myriads still remain--infinite sourceOf beauty, ever flushing, ever new.

Did ever poet image aught so fair,Dreaming in whisp'ring groves by the hoarse brook?120Or prophet, to whose rapture heaven descends?Ev'n now the setting sun and shifting clouds,Seen, Greenwich, from thy lovely heights, declareHow just, how beauteous the refractive law.

The noiseless tide of time, all bearing down125To vast eternity's unbounded sea,Where the green islands of the happy shine,He stemm'd alone; and, to the source (involv'dDeep in primeval gloom) ascending, rais'dHis lights at equal distances, to guide130Historian wilder'd on his darksome way.

But who can number up his labours? whoHis high discoveries sing? When but a fewOf the deep-studying race can stretch their mindsTo what he knew--in fancy's lighter thought135How shall the muse then grasp the mighty theme?

What wonder thence that his devotion swell'dResponsive to his knowledge? For could he,Whose piercing mental eye diffusive sawThe finish'd university of things140In all its order, magnitude, and parts,Forbear incessant to adore that PowerWho fills, sustains, and actuates the whole?

Say, ye who best can tell, ye happy few,Who saw him in the softest lights of life,145All unwithheld, indulging to his friendsThe vast unborrow'd treasures of his mind,oh, speak the wondrous man! how mild, how calrHow greatly humble, how divinely good,How firm establish'd on eternal truth;150Fervent in doing well, with every nerveStill pressing on, forgetful of the past,And panting for perfection; far aboveThose little cares and visionary joysThat so perplex the fond impassion'd heart155Of ever-cheated, ever-trusting man.This, Conduitt, from thy rural hours we hope;As through the pleasing shade where nature poursHer every sweet in studious ease you walk,The social passions smiling at thy heart160That glows with all the recollected sage.

And you, ye hopeless gloomy-minded tribe,You who, unconscious of those nobler flightsThat reach impatient at immortal life,Against the prime endearing privilege165Of being dare contend,--say, can a soulOf such extensive, deep, tremendous powers,Enlarging still, be but a finer breathOf spirits dancing through their tubes awhile,And then for ever lost in vacant air?170

But hark! methinks I hear a warning voice,Solemn as when some awful change is come,Sound through the world--" 'Tis done!--the measure's full;And I resign my charge."--Ye mouldering stonesThat build the towering pyramid, the proud175Triumphal arch, the monument effac'dBy ruthless ruin, and whate'er supportsThe worship'd name of hoar antiquity--Down to the dust! What grandeur can ye boastWhile Newton lifts his column to the skies,180Beyond the waste of time. Let no weak dropBe shed for him. The virgin in her bloomCut off, the joyous youth, and darling child--These are the tombs that claim the tender tearAnd elegiac song. But Newton calls185For other notes of gratulation high,That now he wanders through those endless worldsHe here so well descried, and wondering talks,And hymns their Author with his glad compeers.

O Britain's boast! whether with angels thou190Sittest in dread discourse, or fellow-blest,Who joy to see the honour of their kind;Or whether, mounted on cherubic wing,Thy swift career is with the whirling orbs,Comparing things with things, in rapture lost,195And grateful adoration for that lightSo plenteous ray'd into thy mind belowFrom Light Himself; oh, look with pity downOn humankind, a frail erroneous race!Exalt the spirit of a downward world!200O'er thy dejected country chief preside,And be her Genius call'd! her studies raise,Correct her manners, and inspire her youth;For, though deprav'd and sunk, she brought thee forth,And glories in thy name! she points thee out205To all her sons, and bids them eye thy star:While, in expectance of the second life,When time shall be no more, thy sacred dustSleeps with her kings, and dignifies the scene.