XLVIII.
"Draw from its Fountain Life! 'Tis thence, alone,
"We can excel. Up from unfeeling Mold,
"To Seraphs burning round th'Almighty's Throne,
"Life rising still on Life, in higher Tone,
"Perfection forms, and with Perfection Bliss.
"In Universal Nature This clear shewn,
"Not needeth Proof: To prove it were, I wis,
"To prove the beauteous World excels the brute Abyss.
XLIX.
"A Sight more joyous than the dead Morass?
"Do not the Skies, with active Ether clean,
"And fan'd by sprightly Zephyrs, far surpass
"The foul November-Fogs, and slumbrous Mass,
"With which sad Nature veils her drooping Face?
"Does not the Mountain-Stream, as clear as Glass,
"Gay-dancing on, the putrid Pool disgrace?
"The same in All holds true, but chief in Human Race.
L.
