By fixing both to your immortal bays;
Where Fancy mounts, but Judgment holds the reins,
Not checks, but guides you to harmonious strains.
'Tis harmony indeed, 'tis all unite,
Like finished nature, and divided light:
}
{ Like the vast order, and its numerous throng,
{ Crowded to their Almighty Maker's song;
{ Where heaven and earth seem but one single tongue.
O wond'rous man! where have you learned the art,