And saw my Canaan there, my promised good.
A thousand scenes of joy the clime bestow'd,
And wine and oil through vision's valleys flow'd;
As Moses his, I call'd my prospect bless'd,
And gazed upon the good I ne'er possess'd:
On this side Jordan doom'd by fate to stand,
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Whilst happier Joshuas win the promised land."
"Son," said the Sage—"be this thy care suppressed;
The state the Gods shall choose thee is the best: