That now from Skies, and now from central Gloom,
Shot devious o'er the fervent Page of Young—
Young, Thought's Œconomist, who wove reproof
Her [gloomiest] Vest, and yet a Vest that shone;
Whose Invitation was assault: he found
The World asleep and rent its drowsy Ear.
Nor shares my Soul the soft enchanting Stream,
The lambent Blaze, that [Thomson] knew to blend
With his Creation; when he led the Eye
Through the [year's Verdant] Gate, the budding Spring;