Page:The Chace - Somervile (1735).djvu/150

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THE CHACE.
Book IV.
To this gross Clay confin'd, flutters on EarthWith less ambitious Wing; unskill'd to rangeFrom 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, aloneGives Light to all; bids the great System move,And changefull Seasons in their Turns advance,Unmov'd, unchang'd, himself. Yet this at least 525Grant me propitious, an inglorious Life,Calm and serene, nor lost in false PursuitsOf Wealth or Honours; but enough to raiseMy drooping Friends, preventing modest Want,That dares not ask. And if to crown my Joys, 530Ye grant me Health, that, ruddy in my Cheeks,Blooms in my Life's Decline; Fields, Woods, and Streams,

Each

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