whose beauteous home In light's unfading fountain lies; Whose smiles dispel night's sable gloom, And fill with splendour earth and skies, While o'er the horizon pure and pale, Thy beams are dawning, thee I hail.

It is common for those who have never accustomed themselves to the labour of inquiry, nor invigorated their confidence by conquests over difficulty, to sleep in the gloomy quiescence of astonishment, without any effort to animate inquiry, or dispel obscurity.