Thus, in thy world material, Mighty Mind!

Not that alone which solaces, and shines,

The rough and gloomy, challenges our praise.

The winter is as needful as the spring;

The thunder, as the sun; a stagnate mass

Of vapours breeds a pestilential air:

Nor more propitious the Favonian[55] breeze

To nature’s health, than purifying storms;

The dread volcano ministers to good.

Its smother’d flames might undermine the world. 490