And all thy embryo vastness, at a gulp.
But Fate thy growth decreed; autumnal rains
Beneath thy parent tree mellow’d the soil
Design’d thy cradle; and a skipping deer,
With pointed hoof, nibbling the glebe, prepar’d
The soft receptacle, in which, secure,
Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through.
So Fancy dreams. Disprove it if ye can
Ye reas’ners broad awake, whose busy search
Of argument employ’d too oft amiss,