Whose valleys flourish—nay, whose mountains smile—
Was steril, wild, deform’d, and beings rude
Creatures scarce wilder than themselves pursued.
The sea was heard around a waste to howl;
The night-wolf answer’d to the whooting owl;
And all was wretched—Yet who now surveys
The land, withholds his wonder and his praise? 400
Come, let us try and make our moral view
Improve like this—this have we power to do.
E. O! I’ll be all forgetful, deaf and dumb,