XL.

O Nature, how in every charm supreme! Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new! O for the voice and fire of seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due! Blest be the day I 'scap'd the wrangling crew, From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus' sty; And held high converse with the godlike few, Who to th' enraptur'd heart, and ear, and eye, Teach beauty, virtue, truth and love, and melody.