In Desarts but of small Extent,
Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last,
The barren Wilderness he past,
Did on the very Border stand
Of the blest promis'd Land,
And from the Mountain's Top of his exalted Wit,
Saw it himself, and shew'd us it.
But Life did never to one Man allow
Time to discover Words, and Conquer too;
Nor can so short a Line sufficient be
To fathom the vast Depth of Nature's Sea:
The work he did we ought t' admire,
And were unjust if we should more require
From his few Years, divided 'twixt th' Excess
Of low Affliction and high Happiness:
For who on Things remote can fix his Sight,
That's always in a Triumph, or a Fight?
VI.
These spacious Countries but discover'd yet;
Countries where yet instead of Nature, we
Her Images and Idols worship'd see:
These large and wealthy Regions to subdue,
Though Learning has whole Armies at Command,
Quarter'd about in every Land,
A better Troop she ne'er together drew.
Methinks, like Gideon's little Band,
God with Design has pick'd out you,
To do these noble Wonders by a few:
When the whole Host he saw, they are (said he)
Too many to o'ercome for me;
And now he chuses out his Men,
Much in the way that he did then:
Not those many whom he found
Idly extended on the Ground,
