PREFACE.

PREFACE.IDrew up the following papers many years ago at the desire of some friends, who, upon my taking care of the late edition of SirIsaac Newton’sPrincipia, perswaded me to make them publick. I laid hold of that opportunity, when my thoughts were afresh employed on this subject, to revise what I had formerly written. And I now send it abroad not without some hopes of answering these two ends. My first intention was to convey to such, as are not used to mathematical reasoning, some idea of the philosophy of a person, who has acquired an universal reputation, and rendered our nation famous for these speculations in the learned world. To which purpose I have avoided using terms of art as much as possible, and taken care to define such as I was obliged to use. Though this caution was the less necessary at present, since many of them are become familiar words to our language, from the great number of books wrote in it upon philosophical subjects, and the courses of experiments, that have of late years been given by several ingenious men. The other view I had, was to encourage such young gentlemen as have a turn for the mathematical sciences, to pursue those studies the more chearfully, in order to understand in our author himself the demonstrations of the things I here declare. And to facilitate their progress herein, I intend to proceed still farther in the explanation of SirIsaac Newton’sphilosophy. For as I have received very much pleasure from perusing his writings, I hope it is no illaudable ambition to endeavour the rendering them more easily understood, that greater numbers may enjoy the same satisfaction.It will perhaps be expected, that I should say something particular of a person, to whom I must always acknowledge my self to be much obliged. What I have to declare on this head will be but short; for it was in the very last years of SirIsaac’s life, that I had the honourof his acquaintance. This happened on the following occasion. Mr.Polenus,a Professor in the University ofPadua,from a new experiment of his, thought the common opinion about the force of moving bodies was overturned, and the truth of Mr.Libnitz’s notion in that matter fully proved. The contrary of what Polenus had asserted I demonstrated in a paper, which Dr.Mead,who takes all opportunities of obliging his friends, was pleased to shew SirIsaac NewtonThis was so well approved of by him, that he did me the honour to become a fellow-writer with me, by annexing to what I had written, a demonstration of his own drawn from another consideration. When I printed my discourse in the philosophical transactions, I put what SirIsaachad written in a scholium by it self, that I might not seem to usurp what did not belong to me. But I concealed his name, not being then sufficiently acquainted with him to ask whether he was willing I might make use of it or not. In a little time after he engaged me to take care of the new edition he was about making if his Principia. This obliged me to be very frequently with him, and as he lived at some distance from me, a great number of letters passed between us on this account. When I had the honour of his conversation, I endeavoured to learn his thoughts upon mathematical subjects, and something historical concerning his inventions, that I had not been before acquainted with. I found, he had read fewer of the modern mathematicians, than one could have expected; but his own prodigious invention readily supplied him with what he might have an occasion for in the pursuit of any subject he undertook. I have often heard him censure the handling geometrical subjects by algebraic calculations; and his book of Algebra he called by the name of Universal Arithmetic, in opposition to the injudicious title of Geometry, whichDes Carteshad given to the treatise, wherein he shews, how the geometer may assist his invention by such kind of computations. He frequently praisedSlusius, BarrowandHuygensfor not being influenced by the false taste, which then began to prevail. He used to commend the laudable attempt ofHugo de Omeriqueto restore the ancient analysis, and very much esteemed Apollonius’s book De sectione rationis for giving us a clearer notion of that analysis than we had before. Dr.Barrowmay be esteemed as havingshewn a compass of invention equal, if not superior to any of the moderns, our author only excepted; but SirIsaac Newtonhas several times particularly recommended to meHuygens’s stile and manner. He thought him the most elegant of any mathematical writer of modern times, and the most just imitator of the antients. Of their taste, and form of demonstration SirIsaacalways professed himself a great admirer: I have heard him even censure himself for not following them yet more closely than he did; and speak with regret of his mistake at the beginning of his mathematical studies, in applying himself to the works ofDes Cartesand other algebraic writers, before he had considered the elements ofEuclidewith that attention, which so excellent a writer deserves. As to the history of his inventions, what relates to his discoveries of the methods of series and fluxions, and of his theory of light and colours, the world has been sufficiently informed of already. The first thoughts, which gave rise to his Principia, he had, when he retired fromCambridgein 1666 on account of the plague. As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the power of gravity: that as this power is not found sensibly diminished at the remotest distance from the center of the earth, to which we can rise, neither at the tops of the loftiest buildings, nor even on the summits of the highest mountains; it appeared to him reasonable to conclude, that this power must extend much farther than was usually thought; why not as high as the moon, said he to himself? and if so, her motion must be influenced by it; perhaps she is retained in her orbit thereby. However, though the power of gravity is not sensibly weakened in the little change of distance, at which we can place our selves from the center of the earth; yet it is very possible, that so high as the moon this power may differ much in strength from what it is here. To make an estimate, what might be the degree of this diminution, he considered with himself, that if the moon be retained in her orbit by the force of gravity, no doubt the primary planets are carried round the sun by the like power. And by comparing the periods of the several planets with their distances from the sun, he found, that if any power like gravity held them in their courses, its strength must decrease in the duplicate proportion of the increase of distance. Thisbe concluded by supposing them to move in perfect circles concentrical to the sun, from which the orbits of the greatest part of them do not much differ. Supposing therefore the power of gravity, when extended to the moon, to decrease in the same manner, he computed whether that force would be sufficient to keep the moon in her orbit. In this computation, being absent from books, he took the common estimate in use among geographers and our seamen, beforeNorwoodhad measured the earth, that 60 English miles were contained in one degree of latitude on the surface of the earth. But as this is a very faulty supposition, each degree containing about 69½ of our miles, his computation did not answer expectation; whence he concluded, that some other cause must at least join with the action of the power of gravity on the moon. On this account he laid aside for that time any farther thoughts upon this matter. But some years after, a letter which he received from Dr.Hook,put him on inquiring what was the real figure, in which a body let fall from any high place descends, taking the motion of the earth round its axis into consideration. Such a body, having the same motion, which by the revolution of the earth the place has whence it falls, is to be considered as projected forward and at the same time drawn down to the center of the earth. This gave occasion to his resuming his former thoughts concerning the moon; andPicartinFrancehaving lately measured the earth, by using his measures the moon appeared to be kept in her orbit purely by the power of gravity; and consequently, that this power decreases as you recede from the center of the earth in the manner our author had formerly conjectured. Upon this principle he found the line described by a falling body to be an ellipsis, the center of the earth being one focus. And the primary planets moving in such orbits round the sun, he had the satisfaction to see, that this inquiry, which he had undertaken merely out of curiosity, could be applied to the greatest purposes. Hereupon he composed near a dozen propositions relating to the motion of the primary planets about the sun. Several years after this, some discourse he had with Dr.Halley,who at Cambridge made him a visit, engaged SirIsaac Newtonto resume again the consideration of this subject; and gave occasionto his writing the treatise which he published under the title of mathematical principles of natural philosophy. This treatise, full of such a variety of profound inventions, was composed by him from scarce any other materials than the few propositions before mentioned, in the space of one year and an half.Though his memory was much decayed, I found he perfectly understood his own writings, contrary to what I had frequently heard in discourse from many persons. This opinion of theirs might arise perhaps from his not being always ready at speaking on these subjects, when it might be expected he should. But as to this, it may be observed, that great genius’s are frequently liable to be absent, not only in relation to common life, but with regard to some of the parts of science they are the best informed of. Inventors seem to treasure up in their minds, what they have found out, after another manner than those do the same things, who have not this inventive faculty. The former, when they have occasion to produce their knowledge, are in some measure obliged immediately to investigate part of what they want. For this they are not equally fit at all times: so it has often happened, that such as retain things chiefly by means of a very strong memory, have appeared off hand more expert than the discoverers themselves.As to the moral endowments of his mind, they were as much to be admired as his other talents. But this is a field I leave others to exspatiate in. I only touch upon what I experienced myself during the few years I was happy in his friendship. But this I immediately discovered in him, which at once both surprized and charmed me: Neither his extreme great age, nor his universal reputation had rendred him stiff in opinion, or in any degree elated. Of this I had occasion to have almost daily experience. The Remarks I continually sent him by letters on his Principia were received with the utmost goodness. These were so far from being any ways displeasing to him, that on the contrary it occasioned him to speak many kind things of me to my friends, and to honour me with a publick testimony of his good opinion. He also approved of the following treatise, a great part of which we read together. As many alterations weremade in the late edition of his Principia, so there would have been many more if there had been a sufficient time. But whatever of this kind may be thought wanting, I shall endeavour to supply in my comment on that book. I had reason to believe he expected such a thing from me, and I intended to have published it in his life time, after I had printed the following discourse, and a mathematical treatise SirIsaac Newtonhad written a long while ago, containing the first principles of fluxions, for I had prevailed on him to let that piece go abroad. I had examined all the calculations, and prepared part of the figures; but as the latter part of the treatise had never been finished, he was about letting me have other papers, in order to supply what was wanting. But his death put a stop to that design. As to my comment on the Principia, I intend there to demonstrate whatever SirIsaac Newtonhas set down without express proof, and to explain all such expressions in his book, as I shall judge necessary. This comment I shall forthwith put to the press, joined to an english translation of his Principia, which I have had some time by me. A more particular account of my whole design has already been published in the new memoirs of literature for the month of march 1727.I have presented my readers with a copy of verses on SirIsaac Newton,which I have just received from a young Gentleman, whom I am proud to reckon among the number of my dearest friends. If I had any apprehension that this piece of poetry stood in need of an apology, I should be desirous the reader might know, that the author is but sixteen years old, and was obliged to finish his composition in a very short space of time. But I shall only take the liberty to observe, that the boldness of the digressions will be best judged of by those who are acquainted withPindar.APOEMONSirISAAC NEWTON.ToNewton’s genius, and immortal fameTh’ advent’rous muse with trembling pinion soars.Thou, heav’nly truth, from thy seraphick throneLook favourable down, do thou assistMy lab’ring thought, do thou inspire my song.Newton, who first th’ almighty’s works display’d,And smooth’d that mirror, in whose polish’d faceThe great creator now conspicuous shines;Who open’d nature’s adamantine gates,And to our minds her secret powers expos’d;Newtondemands the muse; his sacred handShall guide her infant steps; his sacred handShall raise her to the Heliconian height,Where, on its lofty top inthron’d, her headShall mingle with the Stars. Hail nature, hail,O Goddess, handmaid of th’ ethereal power,Now lift thy head, and to th’ admiring worldShew thy long hidden beauty. Thee the wiseOf ancient fame, immortalPlato’s self,The Stagyrite, and Syracusian sage,From black obscurity’s abyss to raise,(Drooping and mourning o’er thy wondrous works)With vain inquiry sought. Like meteors theseIn their dark age bright sons of wisdom shone:But at thyNewtonall their laurels fade,They shrink from all the honours of their names.So glimm’ring stars contract their feeble rays,When the swift lustre ofAurora’s faceFlows o’er the skies, and wraps the heav’ns in light.TheDeity’s omnipotence, the cause,Th’ original of things long lay unknown.Alone the beauties prominent to sight(Of the celestial power the outward form)Drew praise and wonder from the gazing world.As when the deluge overspread the earth,Whilst yet the mountains only rear’d their headsAbove the surface of the wild expanse,Whelm’d deep below the great foundations lay,Till some kind angel at heav’n’s high commandRoul’d back the rising tides, and haughty floods,And to the ocean thunder’d out his voice:Quick all the swelling and imperious waves,The foaming billows and obscuring surge,Back to their channels and their ancient seatsRecoil affrighted: from the darksome mainEarth raises smiling, as new-born, her head,And with fresh charms her lovely face arrays.So his extensive thought accomplish’d firstThe mighty task to drive th’ obstructing mistsOf ignorance away, beneath whose gloomTh’ inshrouded majesty of Nature lay.He drew the veil and swell’d the spreading scene.How had the moon around th’ ethereal voidRang’d, and eluded lab’ring mortals care,Till his invention trac’d her secret steps,While she inconstant with unsteady reinThrough endless mazes and meanders guidesIn its unequal course her changing carr:Whether behind the sun’s superior lightShe hides the beauties of her radiant face,Or, when conspicuous, smiles upon mankind,Unveiling all her night-rejoicing charms.When thus the silver-tressed moon dispelsThe frowning horrors from the brow of night,And with her splendors chears the sullen gloom,While sable-mantled darkness with his veilThe visage of the fair horizon shades,And over nature spreads his raven wings;Let me upon some unfrequented greenWhile sleep sits heavy on the drowsy world,Seek out some solitary peaceful cell,Where darksome woods around their gloomy browsBow low, and ev’ry hill’s protended shadeObscures the dusky vale, there silent dwell,Where contemplation holds its still abode,There trace the wide and pathless void of heav’n,And count the stars that sparkle on its robe.Or else in fancy’s wild’ring mazes lostUpon the verdure see the fairy elvesDance o’er their magick circles, or behold,In thought enraptur’d with the ancient bards,Medea’s baleful incantations drawDown from her orb the paly queen of night.But chieflyNewtonlet me soar with thee,And while surveying all yon starry vaultWith admiration I attentive gaze,Thou shalt descend from thy celestial seat,And waft aloft my high-aspiring mind,Shalt shew me there how nature has ordain’dHer fundamental laws, shalt lead my thoughtThrough all the wand’rings of th’ uncertain moon,And teach me all her operating powers.She and the sun with influence conjointWield the huge axle of the whirling earth,And from their just direction turn the poles,Slow urging on the progress of the years.The constellations seem to leave their seats,And o’er the skies with solemn pace to move.You, splendid rulers of the day and night,The seas obey, at your resistless swayNow they contract their waters, and exposeThe dreary desart of old ocean’s reign.The craggy rocks their horrid sides disclose;Trembling the sailor views the dreadful scene,And cautiously the threat’ning ruin shuns.But where the shallow waters hide the sands,There ravenous destruction lurks conceal’d,There the ill-guided vessel falls a prey,And all her numbers gorge his greedy jaws.But quick returning see th’ impetuous tidesBack to th’ abandon’d shores impell the main.Again the foaming seas extend their waves,Again the rouling floods embrace the shoars,And veil the horrours of the empty deep.Thus the obsequious seas your power confess,While from the surface healthful vapours risePlenteous throughout the atmosphere diffus’d,Or to supply the mountain’s heads with springs,Or fill the hanging clouds with needful rains,That friendly streams, and kind refreshing show’rsMay gently lave the sun-burnt thirsty plains,Or to replenish all the empty airWith wholsome moisture to increase the fruitsOf earth, and bless the labours of mankind.ONewton, whether flies thy mighty soul,How shall the feeble muse pursue through allThe vast extent of thy unbounded thought,That even seeks th’ unseen recesses darkTo penetrate of providence immense.And thou the great dispenser of the worldPropitious, who with inspiration taught’stOur greatest bard to send thy praises forth;Thou, who gav’stNewtonthought; who smil’dst serene,When to its bounds he stretch’d his swelling soul;Who still benignant ever blest his toil,And deign’d to his enlight’ned mind t’ appearConfess’d around th’ interminated world:To me O thy divine infusion grant(O thou in all so infinitely good)That I may sing thy everlasting works,Thy inexhausted store of providence,In thought effulgent and resounding verse.O could I spread the wond’rous theme around,Where the wind cools the oriental world,To the calm breezes of the Zephir’s breath,To where the frozen hyperborean blasts.To where the boist’rous tempest-leading southFrom their deep hollow caves send forth their storms.Thou still indulgent parent of mankind,Left humid emanations should no moreFlow from the ocean, but dissolve awayThrough the long series of revolving time;And left the vital principle decay,By which the air supplies the springs of life;Thou hast the fiery visag’d comets form’dWith vivifying spirits all replete,Which they abundant breathe about the void,Renewing the prolifick soul of things.No longer now on thee amaz’d we call,No longer tremble at imagin’d ills,When comets blaze tremendous from on high,Or when extending wide their flaming trainsWith hideous grasp the skies engirdle round,And spread the terrors of their burning locks.For these through orbits in the length’ning spaceOf many tedious rouling years compleatAround the sun move regularly on;And with the planets in harmonious orbs,And mystick periods their obeysance payTo him majestick ruler of the skiesUpon his throne of circled glory fixt.He or some god conspicuous to the view,Or else the substitute of nature seems,Guiding the courses of revolving worlds.He taught greatNewtonthe all-potent lawsOf gravitation, by whose simple powerThe universe exists. Nor here the sageBig with invention still renewing staid.But O bright angel of the lamp of day,How shall the muse display his greatest toil?Let her plunge deep in Aganippe’s waves,Or in Castalia’s ever-flowing stream,That re-inspired she may sing to thee,HowNewtondar’d advent’rous to unbraidThe yellow tresses of thy shining hair.Or didst thou gracious leave thy radiant sphere,And to his hand thy lucid splendours give,T’ unweave the light-diffusing wreath, and partThe blended glories of thy golden plumes?He with laborious, and unerring care,How different and imbodied colours formThy piercing light, with just distinction found.He with quick sight pursu’d thy darting rays,When penetrating to th’ obscure recessOf solid matter, there perspicuous saw,How in the texture of each body layThe power that separates the different beams.Hence over nature’s unadorned faceThy bright diversifying rays dilateTheir various hues: and hence when vernal rainsDescending swift have burst the low’ring clouds,Thy splendors through the dissipating mistsIn its fair vesture of unnumber’d huesArray the show’ry bow. At thy approachThe morning risen from her pearly couchWith rosy blushes decks her virgin cheek;The ev’ning on the frontispiece of heav’nHis mantle spreads with many colours gay;The mid-day skies in radiant azure clad,The shining clouds, and silver vapours rob’dIn white transparent intermixt with gold,With bright variety of splendor cloathAll the illuminated face above.When hoary-headed winter back retiresTo the chill’d pole, there solitary sitsEncompass’d round with winds and tempests bleakIn caverns of impenetrable ice,And from behind the dissipated gloomLike a new Venus from the parting surgeThe gay-apparell’d spring advances on;When thou in thy meridian brightness sitt’st,And from thy throne pure emanations flowOf glory bursting o’er the radiant skies:Then let the muse Olympus’ top ascend,And o’er Thessalia’s plain extend her view,And count, O Tempe, all thy beauties o’er.Mountains, whose summits grasp the pendant clouds,Between their wood-invelop’d slopes embraceThe green-attired vallies. Every flow’rHere in the pride of bounteous nature cladSmiles on the bosom of th’ enamell’d meads.Over the smiling lawn the silver floodsOf fair Peneus gently roul along,While the reflected colours from the flow’rs,And verdant borders pierce the lympid waves,And paint with all their variegated hueThe yellow sands beneath. Smooth gliding onThe waters hasten to the neighbouring sea.Still the pleas’d eye the floating plain pursues;At length, in Neptune’s wide dominion lost,Surveys the shining billows, that ariseApparell’d each in Phœbus’ bright attire:Or from a far some tall majestick ship,Or the long hostile lines of threat’ning fleets,Which o’er the bright uneven mirror sweep,In dazling gold and waving purple deckt;Such as of old, when haughty Athens powerTheir hideous front, and terrible arrayAgainst Pallene’s coast extended wide,And with tremendous war and battel sternThe trembling walls of Potidæa shook.Crested with pendants curling with the breezeThe upright masts high bristle in the air,Aloft exalting proud their gilded heads.The silver waves against the painted prowsRaise their resplendent bosoms, and impearlThe fair vermillion with their glist’ring drops:And from on board the iron-cloathed hostAround the main a gleaming horrour casts;Each flaming buckler like the mid-day sun,Each plumed helmet like the silver moon,Each moving gauntlet like the light’ning’s blaze,And like a star each brazen pointed spear.But lo the sacred high-erected fanes,Fair citadels, and marble-crowned towers,And sumptuous palaces of stately townsMagnificent arise, upon their headsBearing on high a wreath of silver light.But see my muse the high Pierian hill,Behold its shaggy locks and airy top,Up to the skies th’ imperious mountain heavesThe shining verdure of the nodding woods.See where the silver Hippocrene flows,Behold each glitt’ring rivulet, and rillThrough mazes wander down the green descent,And sparkle through the interwoven trees.Here rest a while and humble homage pay,Here, where the sacred genius, that inspir’dSublimeMæonidesandPindar’sbreast,His habitation once was fam’d to hold.Here thou, OHomer, offer’dst up thy vows,Thee, the kind museCalliopæaheard,And led thee to the empyrean feats,There manifested to thy hallow’d eyesThe deeds of gods; thee wiseMinervataughtThe wondrous art of knowing human kind;HarmoniousPhœbustun’d thy heav’nly mind,And swell’d to rapture each exalted sense;EvenMarsthe dreadful battle-ruling god,Marstaught thee war, and with his bloody handInstructed thine, when in thy sounding linesWe hear the rattling of Bellona’s carr,The yell of discord, and the din of arms.Pindar, when mounted on his fiery steed,Soars to the sun, opposing eagle likeHis eyes undazled to the fiercest rays.He firmly seated, not likeGlaucus’son,Strides his swift-winged and fire-breathing horse,And born aloft strikes with his ringing hoofsThe brazen vault of heav’n, superior thereLooks down upon the stars, whose radiant lightIlluminates innumerable worlds,That through eternal orbits roul beneath.But thou all hail immortalized sonOf harmony, all hail thou Thracian bard,To whomApollogave his tuneful lyre.O might’st thou,Orpheus, now again revive,AndNewtonshould inform thy list’ning earHow the soft notes, and soul-inchanting strainsOf thy own lyre were on the wind convey’d.He taught the muse, how sound progressive floatsUpon the waving particles of air,When harmony in ever-pleasing strains,Melodious melting at each lulling fall,With soft alluring penetration stealsThrough the enraptur’d ear to inmost thought,And folds the senses in its silken bands.So the sweet musick, which fromOrpheus’ touchAnd fam’dAmphion’s, on the sounding stringArose harmonious, gliding on the air,Pierc’d the tough-bark’d and knotty-ribbed woods,Into their saps soft inspiration breath’dAnd taught attention to the stubborn oak.Thus when greatHenry, and braveMarlb’roughledTh’ imbattled numbers ofBritannia’ssons,The trump, that swells th’ expanded cheek of fame,That adds new vigour to the gen’rous youth,And rouzes sluggish cowardize it self,The trumpet with its Mars-inciting voice,The winds broad breast impetuous sweeping o’erFill’d the big note of war. Th’ inspired hostWith new-born ardor press the tremblingGaul;Nor greater throngs had reach’d eternal night,Not if the fields of Agencourt had yawn’dExposing horrible the gulf of fate;Or roaring Danube spread his arms abroad,And overwhelm’d their legions with his floods.But let the wand’ring muse at length return;Nor yet, angelick genius of the sun,In worthy lays her high-attempting songHas blazon’d forth thy venerated name.Then let her sweep the loud-resounding lyreAgain, again o’er each melodious stringTeach harmony to tremble with thy praise.And still thine ear O favourable grant,And she shall tell thee, that whatever charms,Whatever beauties bloom on nature’s face,Proceed from thy all-influencing light.That when arising with tempestuous rage,The North impetuous rides upon the cloudsDispersing round the heav’ns obstructive gloom,And with his dreaded prohibition staysThe kind effusion of thy genial beams;Pale are the rubies onAurora’slips,No more the roses blush upon her cheeks,Black are Peneus’ streams and golden sandsIn Tempe’s vale dull melancholy sits,And every flower reclines its languid head.By what high name shall I invoke thee, say,Thou life-infusing deity, on theeI call, and look propitious from on high,While now to thee I offer up my prayer.O had greatNewton, as he found the cause,By which sound rouls thro’ th’ undulating air,O had he, baffling times resistless power,Discover’d what that subtle spirit is,Or whatsoe’er diffusive else is spreadOver the wide-extended universe,Which causes bodies to reflect the light,And from their straight direction to divertThe rapid beams, that through their surface pierce.But since embrac’d by th’ icy arms of age,And his quick thought by times cold hand congeal’d,Ev’nNewtonleft unknown this hidden power;Thou from the race of human kind selectSome other worthy of an angel’s care,With inspiration animate his breast,And him instruct in these thy secret laws.O let notNewton, to whose spacious view,Now unobstructed, all th’ extensive scenesOf the ethereal ruler’s works arise;When he beholds this earth he late adorn’d,Let him not see philosophy in tears,Like a fond mother solitary sit,Lamenting him her dear, and only child.But as the wisePythagoras, and he,Whose birth with pride the fam’d Abdera boasts,With expectation having long survey’dThis spot their ancient seat, with joy beheldDivine philosophy at length appearIn all her charms majestically fair,Conducted by immortalNewton’shand.So may he see another sage arise,That shall maintain her empire: then no moreImperious ignorance with haughty swayShall stalk rapacious o’er the ravag’d globe:Then thou, ONewton, shalt protect these lines.The humble tribute of the grateful muse;Ne’er shall the sacrilegious hand despoilHer laurel’d temples, whom his name preserves:And were she equal to the mighty theme,Futurity should wonder at her song;Time should receive her with extended arms,Seat her conspicuous in his rouling carr,And bear her down to his extreamest bound.Fableswith wonder tell how Terra’s sonsWith iron force unloos’d the stubborn nervesOf hills, and on the cloud-inshrouded topOf Pelion Ossa pil’d. But if the vastGigantick deeds of savage strength demandAstonishment from men, what then shalt thou,O what expressive rapture of the soul,When thou before us,Newton, dost displayThe labours of thy great excelling mind;When thou unveilest all the wondrous scene,The vast idea of th’ eternal king,Not dreadful bearing in his angry armThe thunder hanging o’er our trembling heads;But with th’ effulgency of love replete,And clad with power, which form’d th’ extensive heavens.O happy he, whose enterprizing handUnbars the golden and relucid gatesOf th’ empyrean dome, where thou enthron’dPhilosophy art seated. Thou sustain’dBy the firm hand of everlasting truthDespisest all the injuries of time;Thou never know’st decay when all around,Antiquity obscures her head. BeholdTh’ Egyptian towers, the Babylonian walls,And Thebes with all her hundred gates of brass,Behold them scatter’d like the dust abroad.Whatever now is flourishing and proud,Whatever shall, must know devouring age.Euphrates’ stream, and seven-mouthed Nile,And Danube, thou that from Germania’s soilTo the black Euxine’s far remoted shore,O’er the wide bounds of mighty nations sweep’stIn thunder loud thy rapid floods along.Ev’n you shall feel inexorable time;To you the fatal day shall come; no moreYour torrents then shall shake the trembling ground,No longer then to inundations swol’nTh’ imperious waves the fertile pastures drench,But shrunk within a narrow channel glide;Or through the year’s reiterated courseWhen time himself grows old, your wond’rous streamsLost ev’n to memory shall lie unknownBeneath obscurity, and Chaos whelm’d,But still thou sun illuminatest allThe azure regions round, thou guidest stillThe orbits of the planetary spheres;The moon still wanders o’er her changing course,And still, ONewton, shall thy name survive:As long as nature’s hand directs the world,When ev’ry dark obstruction shall retire,And ev’ry secret yield its hidden store,Which thee dim-sighted age forbad to seeAge that alone could stay thy rising soul.And could mankind among the fixed stars,E’en to th’ extremest bounds of knowledge reach,To those unknown innumerable suns,Whose light but glimmers from those distant worlds,Ev’n to those utmost boundaries, those barsThat shut the entrance of th’ illumin’d spaceWhere angels only tread the vast unknown,Thou ever should’st be seen immortal there:In each new sphere, each new-appearing sun,In farthest regions at the very vergeOf the wide universe should’st thou be seen.And lo, th’ all-potent goddessNaturetakesWith her own hand thy great, thy just rewardOf immortality; aloft in airSee she displays, and with eternal graspUprears the trophies of greatNewton’s fame.R. Glover.

PREFACE.IDrew up the following papers many years ago at the desire of some friends, who, upon my taking care of the late edition of SirIsaac Newton’sPrincipia, perswaded me to make them publick. I laid hold of that opportunity, when my thoughts were afresh employed on this subject, to revise what I had formerly written. And I now send it abroad not without some hopes of answering these two ends. My first intention was to convey to such, as are not used to mathematical reasoning, some idea of the philosophy of a person, who has acquired an universal reputation, and rendered our nation famous for these speculations in the learned world. To which purpose I have avoided using terms of art as much as possible, and taken care to define such as I was obliged to use. Though this caution was the less necessary at present, since many of them are become familiar words to our language, from the great number of books wrote in it upon philosophical subjects, and the courses of experiments, that have of late years been given by several ingenious men. The other view I had, was to encourage such young gentlemen as have a turn for the mathematical sciences, to pursue those studies the more chearfully, in order to understand in our author himself the demonstrations of the things I here declare. And to facilitate their progress herein, I intend to proceed still farther in the explanation of SirIsaac Newton’sphilosophy. For as I have received very much pleasure from perusing his writings, I hope it is no illaudable ambition to endeavour the rendering them more easily understood, that greater numbers may enjoy the same satisfaction.It will perhaps be expected, that I should say something particular of a person, to whom I must always acknowledge my self to be much obliged. What I have to declare on this head will be but short; for it was in the very last years of SirIsaac’s life, that I had the honourof his acquaintance. This happened on the following occasion. Mr.Polenus,a Professor in the University ofPadua,from a new experiment of his, thought the common opinion about the force of moving bodies was overturned, and the truth of Mr.Libnitz’s notion in that matter fully proved. The contrary of what Polenus had asserted I demonstrated in a paper, which Dr.Mead,who takes all opportunities of obliging his friends, was pleased to shew SirIsaac NewtonThis was so well approved of by him, that he did me the honour to become a fellow-writer with me, by annexing to what I had written, a demonstration of his own drawn from another consideration. When I printed my discourse in the philosophical transactions, I put what SirIsaachad written in a scholium by it self, that I might not seem to usurp what did not belong to me. But I concealed his name, not being then sufficiently acquainted with him to ask whether he was willing I might make use of it or not. In a little time after he engaged me to take care of the new edition he was about making if his Principia. This obliged me to be very frequently with him, and as he lived at some distance from me, a great number of letters passed between us on this account. When I had the honour of his conversation, I endeavoured to learn his thoughts upon mathematical subjects, and something historical concerning his inventions, that I had not been before acquainted with. I found, he had read fewer of the modern mathematicians, than one could have expected; but his own prodigious invention readily supplied him with what he might have an occasion for in the pursuit of any subject he undertook. I have often heard him censure the handling geometrical subjects by algebraic calculations; and his book of Algebra he called by the name of Universal Arithmetic, in opposition to the injudicious title of Geometry, whichDes Carteshad given to the treatise, wherein he shews, how the geometer may assist his invention by such kind of computations. He frequently praisedSlusius, BarrowandHuygensfor not being influenced by the false taste, which then began to prevail. He used to commend the laudable attempt ofHugo de Omeriqueto restore the ancient analysis, and very much esteemed Apollonius’s book De sectione rationis for giving us a clearer notion of that analysis than we had before. Dr.Barrowmay be esteemed as havingshewn a compass of invention equal, if not superior to any of the moderns, our author only excepted; but SirIsaac Newtonhas several times particularly recommended to meHuygens’s stile and manner. He thought him the most elegant of any mathematical writer of modern times, and the most just imitator of the antients. Of their taste, and form of demonstration SirIsaacalways professed himself a great admirer: I have heard him even censure himself for not following them yet more closely than he did; and speak with regret of his mistake at the beginning of his mathematical studies, in applying himself to the works ofDes Cartesand other algebraic writers, before he had considered the elements ofEuclidewith that attention, which so excellent a writer deserves. As to the history of his inventions, what relates to his discoveries of the methods of series and fluxions, and of his theory of light and colours, the world has been sufficiently informed of already. The first thoughts, which gave rise to his Principia, he had, when he retired fromCambridgein 1666 on account of the plague. As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the power of gravity: that as this power is not found sensibly diminished at the remotest distance from the center of the earth, to which we can rise, neither at the tops of the loftiest buildings, nor even on the summits of the highest mountains; it appeared to him reasonable to conclude, that this power must extend much farther than was usually thought; why not as high as the moon, said he to himself? and if so, her motion must be influenced by it; perhaps she is retained in her orbit thereby. However, though the power of gravity is not sensibly weakened in the little change of distance, at which we can place our selves from the center of the earth; yet it is very possible, that so high as the moon this power may differ much in strength from what it is here. To make an estimate, what might be the degree of this diminution, he considered with himself, that if the moon be retained in her orbit by the force of gravity, no doubt the primary planets are carried round the sun by the like power. And by comparing the periods of the several planets with their distances from the sun, he found, that if any power like gravity held them in their courses, its strength must decrease in the duplicate proportion of the increase of distance. Thisbe concluded by supposing them to move in perfect circles concentrical to the sun, from which the orbits of the greatest part of them do not much differ. Supposing therefore the power of gravity, when extended to the moon, to decrease in the same manner, he computed whether that force would be sufficient to keep the moon in her orbit. In this computation, being absent from books, he took the common estimate in use among geographers and our seamen, beforeNorwoodhad measured the earth, that 60 English miles were contained in one degree of latitude on the surface of the earth. But as this is a very faulty supposition, each degree containing about 69½ of our miles, his computation did not answer expectation; whence he concluded, that some other cause must at least join with the action of the power of gravity on the moon. On this account he laid aside for that time any farther thoughts upon this matter. But some years after, a letter which he received from Dr.Hook,put him on inquiring what was the real figure, in which a body let fall from any high place descends, taking the motion of the earth round its axis into consideration. Such a body, having the same motion, which by the revolution of the earth the place has whence it falls, is to be considered as projected forward and at the same time drawn down to the center of the earth. This gave occasion to his resuming his former thoughts concerning the moon; andPicartinFrancehaving lately measured the earth, by using his measures the moon appeared to be kept in her orbit purely by the power of gravity; and consequently, that this power decreases as you recede from the center of the earth in the manner our author had formerly conjectured. Upon this principle he found the line described by a falling body to be an ellipsis, the center of the earth being one focus. And the primary planets moving in such orbits round the sun, he had the satisfaction to see, that this inquiry, which he had undertaken merely out of curiosity, could be applied to the greatest purposes. Hereupon he composed near a dozen propositions relating to the motion of the primary planets about the sun. Several years after this, some discourse he had with Dr.Halley,who at Cambridge made him a visit, engaged SirIsaac Newtonto resume again the consideration of this subject; and gave occasionto his writing the treatise which he published under the title of mathematical principles of natural philosophy. This treatise, full of such a variety of profound inventions, was composed by him from scarce any other materials than the few propositions before mentioned, in the space of one year and an half.Though his memory was much decayed, I found he perfectly understood his own writings, contrary to what I had frequently heard in discourse from many persons. This opinion of theirs might arise perhaps from his not being always ready at speaking on these subjects, when it might be expected he should. But as to this, it may be observed, that great genius’s are frequently liable to be absent, not only in relation to common life, but with regard to some of the parts of science they are the best informed of. Inventors seem to treasure up in their minds, what they have found out, after another manner than those do the same things, who have not this inventive faculty. The former, when they have occasion to produce their knowledge, are in some measure obliged immediately to investigate part of what they want. For this they are not equally fit at all times: so it has often happened, that such as retain things chiefly by means of a very strong memory, have appeared off hand more expert than the discoverers themselves.As to the moral endowments of his mind, they were as much to be admired as his other talents. But this is a field I leave others to exspatiate in. I only touch upon what I experienced myself during the few years I was happy in his friendship. But this I immediately discovered in him, which at once both surprized and charmed me: Neither his extreme great age, nor his universal reputation had rendred him stiff in opinion, or in any degree elated. Of this I had occasion to have almost daily experience. The Remarks I continually sent him by letters on his Principia were received with the utmost goodness. These were so far from being any ways displeasing to him, that on the contrary it occasioned him to speak many kind things of me to my friends, and to honour me with a publick testimony of his good opinion. He also approved of the following treatise, a great part of which we read together. As many alterations weremade in the late edition of his Principia, so there would have been many more if there had been a sufficient time. But whatever of this kind may be thought wanting, I shall endeavour to supply in my comment on that book. I had reason to believe he expected such a thing from me, and I intended to have published it in his life time, after I had printed the following discourse, and a mathematical treatise SirIsaac Newtonhad written a long while ago, containing the first principles of fluxions, for I had prevailed on him to let that piece go abroad. I had examined all the calculations, and prepared part of the figures; but as the latter part of the treatise had never been finished, he was about letting me have other papers, in order to supply what was wanting. But his death put a stop to that design. As to my comment on the Principia, I intend there to demonstrate whatever SirIsaac Newtonhas set down without express proof, and to explain all such expressions in his book, as I shall judge necessary. This comment I shall forthwith put to the press, joined to an english translation of his Principia, which I have had some time by me. A more particular account of my whole design has already been published in the new memoirs of literature for the month of march 1727.I have presented my readers with a copy of verses on SirIsaac Newton,which I have just received from a young Gentleman, whom I am proud to reckon among the number of my dearest friends. If I had any apprehension that this piece of poetry stood in need of an apology, I should be desirous the reader might know, that the author is but sixteen years old, and was obliged to finish his composition in a very short space of time. But I shall only take the liberty to observe, that the boldness of the digressions will be best judged of by those who are acquainted withPindar.APOEMONSirISAAC NEWTON.ToNewton’s genius, and immortal fameTh’ advent’rous muse with trembling pinion soars.Thou, heav’nly truth, from thy seraphick throneLook favourable down, do thou assistMy lab’ring thought, do thou inspire my song.Newton, who first th’ almighty’s works display’d,And smooth’d that mirror, in whose polish’d faceThe great creator now conspicuous shines;Who open’d nature’s adamantine gates,And to our minds her secret powers expos’d;Newtondemands the muse; his sacred handShall guide her infant steps; his sacred handShall raise her to the Heliconian height,Where, on its lofty top inthron’d, her headShall mingle with the Stars. Hail nature, hail,O Goddess, handmaid of th’ ethereal power,Now lift thy head, and to th’ admiring worldShew thy long hidden beauty. Thee the wiseOf ancient fame, immortalPlato’s self,The Stagyrite, and Syracusian sage,From black obscurity’s abyss to raise,(Drooping and mourning o’er thy wondrous works)With vain inquiry sought. Like meteors theseIn their dark age bright sons of wisdom shone:But at thyNewtonall their laurels fade,They shrink from all the honours of their names.So glimm’ring stars contract their feeble rays,When the swift lustre ofAurora’s faceFlows o’er the skies, and wraps the heav’ns in light.TheDeity’s omnipotence, the cause,Th’ original of things long lay unknown.Alone the beauties prominent to sight(Of the celestial power the outward form)Drew praise and wonder from the gazing world.As when the deluge overspread the earth,Whilst yet the mountains only rear’d their headsAbove the surface of the wild expanse,Whelm’d deep below the great foundations lay,Till some kind angel at heav’n’s high commandRoul’d back the rising tides, and haughty floods,And to the ocean thunder’d out his voice:Quick all the swelling and imperious waves,The foaming billows and obscuring surge,Back to their channels and their ancient seatsRecoil affrighted: from the darksome mainEarth raises smiling, as new-born, her head,And with fresh charms her lovely face arrays.So his extensive thought accomplish’d firstThe mighty task to drive th’ obstructing mistsOf ignorance away, beneath whose gloomTh’ inshrouded majesty of Nature lay.He drew the veil and swell’d the spreading scene.How had the moon around th’ ethereal voidRang’d, and eluded lab’ring mortals care,Till his invention trac’d her secret steps,While she inconstant with unsteady reinThrough endless mazes and meanders guidesIn its unequal course her changing carr:Whether behind the sun’s superior lightShe hides the beauties of her radiant face,Or, when conspicuous, smiles upon mankind,Unveiling all her night-rejoicing charms.When thus the silver-tressed moon dispelsThe frowning horrors from the brow of night,And with her splendors chears the sullen gloom,While sable-mantled darkness with his veilThe visage of the fair horizon shades,And over nature spreads his raven wings;Let me upon some unfrequented greenWhile sleep sits heavy on the drowsy world,Seek out some solitary peaceful cell,Where darksome woods around their gloomy browsBow low, and ev’ry hill’s protended shadeObscures the dusky vale, there silent dwell,Where contemplation holds its still abode,There trace the wide and pathless void of heav’n,And count the stars that sparkle on its robe.Or else in fancy’s wild’ring mazes lostUpon the verdure see the fairy elvesDance o’er their magick circles, or behold,In thought enraptur’d with the ancient bards,Medea’s baleful incantations drawDown from her orb the paly queen of night.But chieflyNewtonlet me soar with thee,And while surveying all yon starry vaultWith admiration I attentive gaze,Thou shalt descend from thy celestial seat,And waft aloft my high-aspiring mind,Shalt shew me there how nature has ordain’dHer fundamental laws, shalt lead my thoughtThrough all the wand’rings of th’ uncertain moon,And teach me all her operating powers.She and the sun with influence conjointWield the huge axle of the whirling earth,And from their just direction turn the poles,Slow urging on the progress of the years.The constellations seem to leave their seats,And o’er the skies with solemn pace to move.You, splendid rulers of the day and night,The seas obey, at your resistless swayNow they contract their waters, and exposeThe dreary desart of old ocean’s reign.The craggy rocks their horrid sides disclose;Trembling the sailor views the dreadful scene,And cautiously the threat’ning ruin shuns.But where the shallow waters hide the sands,There ravenous destruction lurks conceal’d,There the ill-guided vessel falls a prey,And all her numbers gorge his greedy jaws.But quick returning see th’ impetuous tidesBack to th’ abandon’d shores impell the main.Again the foaming seas extend their waves,Again the rouling floods embrace the shoars,And veil the horrours of the empty deep.Thus the obsequious seas your power confess,While from the surface healthful vapours risePlenteous throughout the atmosphere diffus’d,Or to supply the mountain’s heads with springs,Or fill the hanging clouds with needful rains,That friendly streams, and kind refreshing show’rsMay gently lave the sun-burnt thirsty plains,Or to replenish all the empty airWith wholsome moisture to increase the fruitsOf earth, and bless the labours of mankind.ONewton, whether flies thy mighty soul,How shall the feeble muse pursue through allThe vast extent of thy unbounded thought,That even seeks th’ unseen recesses darkTo penetrate of providence immense.And thou the great dispenser of the worldPropitious, who with inspiration taught’stOur greatest bard to send thy praises forth;Thou, who gav’stNewtonthought; who smil’dst serene,When to its bounds he stretch’d his swelling soul;Who still benignant ever blest his toil,And deign’d to his enlight’ned mind t’ appearConfess’d around th’ interminated world:To me O thy divine infusion grant(O thou in all so infinitely good)That I may sing thy everlasting works,Thy inexhausted store of providence,In thought effulgent and resounding verse.O could I spread the wond’rous theme around,Where the wind cools the oriental world,To the calm breezes of the Zephir’s breath,To where the frozen hyperborean blasts.To where the boist’rous tempest-leading southFrom their deep hollow caves send forth their storms.Thou still indulgent parent of mankind,Left humid emanations should no moreFlow from the ocean, but dissolve awayThrough the long series of revolving time;And left the vital principle decay,By which the air supplies the springs of life;Thou hast the fiery visag’d comets form’dWith vivifying spirits all replete,Which they abundant breathe about the void,Renewing the prolifick soul of things.No longer now on thee amaz’d we call,No longer tremble at imagin’d ills,When comets blaze tremendous from on high,Or when extending wide their flaming trainsWith hideous grasp the skies engirdle round,And spread the terrors of their burning locks.For these through orbits in the length’ning spaceOf many tedious rouling years compleatAround the sun move regularly on;And with the planets in harmonious orbs,And mystick periods their obeysance payTo him majestick ruler of the skiesUpon his throne of circled glory fixt.He or some god conspicuous to the view,Or else the substitute of nature seems,Guiding the courses of revolving worlds.He taught greatNewtonthe all-potent lawsOf gravitation, by whose simple powerThe universe exists. Nor here the sageBig with invention still renewing staid.But O bright angel of the lamp of day,How shall the muse display his greatest toil?Let her plunge deep in Aganippe’s waves,Or in Castalia’s ever-flowing stream,That re-inspired she may sing to thee,HowNewtondar’d advent’rous to unbraidThe yellow tresses of thy shining hair.Or didst thou gracious leave thy radiant sphere,And to his hand thy lucid splendours give,T’ unweave the light-diffusing wreath, and partThe blended glories of thy golden plumes?He with laborious, and unerring care,How different and imbodied colours formThy piercing light, with just distinction found.He with quick sight pursu’d thy darting rays,When penetrating to th’ obscure recessOf solid matter, there perspicuous saw,How in the texture of each body layThe power that separates the different beams.Hence over nature’s unadorned faceThy bright diversifying rays dilateTheir various hues: and hence when vernal rainsDescending swift have burst the low’ring clouds,Thy splendors through the dissipating mistsIn its fair vesture of unnumber’d huesArray the show’ry bow. At thy approachThe morning risen from her pearly couchWith rosy blushes decks her virgin cheek;The ev’ning on the frontispiece of heav’nHis mantle spreads with many colours gay;The mid-day skies in radiant azure clad,The shining clouds, and silver vapours rob’dIn white transparent intermixt with gold,With bright variety of splendor cloathAll the illuminated face above.When hoary-headed winter back retiresTo the chill’d pole, there solitary sitsEncompass’d round with winds and tempests bleakIn caverns of impenetrable ice,And from behind the dissipated gloomLike a new Venus from the parting surgeThe gay-apparell’d spring advances on;When thou in thy meridian brightness sitt’st,And from thy throne pure emanations flowOf glory bursting o’er the radiant skies:Then let the muse Olympus’ top ascend,And o’er Thessalia’s plain extend her view,And count, O Tempe, all thy beauties o’er.Mountains, whose summits grasp the pendant clouds,Between their wood-invelop’d slopes embraceThe green-attired vallies. Every flow’rHere in the pride of bounteous nature cladSmiles on the bosom of th’ enamell’d meads.Over the smiling lawn the silver floodsOf fair Peneus gently roul along,While the reflected colours from the flow’rs,And verdant borders pierce the lympid waves,And paint with all their variegated hueThe yellow sands beneath. Smooth gliding onThe waters hasten to the neighbouring sea.Still the pleas’d eye the floating plain pursues;At length, in Neptune’s wide dominion lost,Surveys the shining billows, that ariseApparell’d each in Phœbus’ bright attire:Or from a far some tall majestick ship,Or the long hostile lines of threat’ning fleets,Which o’er the bright uneven mirror sweep,In dazling gold and waving purple deckt;Such as of old, when haughty Athens powerTheir hideous front, and terrible arrayAgainst Pallene’s coast extended wide,And with tremendous war and battel sternThe trembling walls of Potidæa shook.Crested with pendants curling with the breezeThe upright masts high bristle in the air,Aloft exalting proud their gilded heads.The silver waves against the painted prowsRaise their resplendent bosoms, and impearlThe fair vermillion with their glist’ring drops:And from on board the iron-cloathed hostAround the main a gleaming horrour casts;Each flaming buckler like the mid-day sun,Each plumed helmet like the silver moon,Each moving gauntlet like the light’ning’s blaze,And like a star each brazen pointed spear.But lo the sacred high-erected fanes,Fair citadels, and marble-crowned towers,And sumptuous palaces of stately townsMagnificent arise, upon their headsBearing on high a wreath of silver light.But see my muse the high Pierian hill,Behold its shaggy locks and airy top,Up to the skies th’ imperious mountain heavesThe shining verdure of the nodding woods.See where the silver Hippocrene flows,Behold each glitt’ring rivulet, and rillThrough mazes wander down the green descent,And sparkle through the interwoven trees.Here rest a while and humble homage pay,Here, where the sacred genius, that inspir’dSublimeMæonidesandPindar’sbreast,His habitation once was fam’d to hold.Here thou, OHomer, offer’dst up thy vows,Thee, the kind museCalliopæaheard,And led thee to the empyrean feats,There manifested to thy hallow’d eyesThe deeds of gods; thee wiseMinervataughtThe wondrous art of knowing human kind;HarmoniousPhœbustun’d thy heav’nly mind,And swell’d to rapture each exalted sense;EvenMarsthe dreadful battle-ruling god,Marstaught thee war, and with his bloody handInstructed thine, when in thy sounding linesWe hear the rattling of Bellona’s carr,The yell of discord, and the din of arms.Pindar, when mounted on his fiery steed,Soars to the sun, opposing eagle likeHis eyes undazled to the fiercest rays.He firmly seated, not likeGlaucus’son,Strides his swift-winged and fire-breathing horse,And born aloft strikes with his ringing hoofsThe brazen vault of heav’n, superior thereLooks down upon the stars, whose radiant lightIlluminates innumerable worlds,That through eternal orbits roul beneath.But thou all hail immortalized sonOf harmony, all hail thou Thracian bard,To whomApollogave his tuneful lyre.O might’st thou,Orpheus, now again revive,AndNewtonshould inform thy list’ning earHow the soft notes, and soul-inchanting strainsOf thy own lyre were on the wind convey’d.He taught the muse, how sound progressive floatsUpon the waving particles of air,When harmony in ever-pleasing strains,Melodious melting at each lulling fall,With soft alluring penetration stealsThrough the enraptur’d ear to inmost thought,And folds the senses in its silken bands.So the sweet musick, which fromOrpheus’ touchAnd fam’dAmphion’s, on the sounding stringArose harmonious, gliding on the air,Pierc’d the tough-bark’d and knotty-ribbed woods,Into their saps soft inspiration breath’dAnd taught attention to the stubborn oak.Thus when greatHenry, and braveMarlb’roughledTh’ imbattled numbers ofBritannia’ssons,The trump, that swells th’ expanded cheek of fame,That adds new vigour to the gen’rous youth,And rouzes sluggish cowardize it self,The trumpet with its Mars-inciting voice,The winds broad breast impetuous sweeping o’erFill’d the big note of war. Th’ inspired hostWith new-born ardor press the tremblingGaul;Nor greater throngs had reach’d eternal night,Not if the fields of Agencourt had yawn’dExposing horrible the gulf of fate;Or roaring Danube spread his arms abroad,And overwhelm’d their legions with his floods.But let the wand’ring muse at length return;Nor yet, angelick genius of the sun,In worthy lays her high-attempting songHas blazon’d forth thy venerated name.Then let her sweep the loud-resounding lyreAgain, again o’er each melodious stringTeach harmony to tremble with thy praise.And still thine ear O favourable grant,And she shall tell thee, that whatever charms,Whatever beauties bloom on nature’s face,Proceed from thy all-influencing light.That when arising with tempestuous rage,The North impetuous rides upon the cloudsDispersing round the heav’ns obstructive gloom,And with his dreaded prohibition staysThe kind effusion of thy genial beams;Pale are the rubies onAurora’slips,No more the roses blush upon her cheeks,Black are Peneus’ streams and golden sandsIn Tempe’s vale dull melancholy sits,And every flower reclines its languid head.By what high name shall I invoke thee, say,Thou life-infusing deity, on theeI call, and look propitious from on high,While now to thee I offer up my prayer.O had greatNewton, as he found the cause,By which sound rouls thro’ th’ undulating air,O had he, baffling times resistless power,Discover’d what that subtle spirit is,Or whatsoe’er diffusive else is spreadOver the wide-extended universe,Which causes bodies to reflect the light,And from their straight direction to divertThe rapid beams, that through their surface pierce.But since embrac’d by th’ icy arms of age,And his quick thought by times cold hand congeal’d,Ev’nNewtonleft unknown this hidden power;Thou from the race of human kind selectSome other worthy of an angel’s care,With inspiration animate his breast,And him instruct in these thy secret laws.O let notNewton, to whose spacious view,Now unobstructed, all th’ extensive scenesOf the ethereal ruler’s works arise;When he beholds this earth he late adorn’d,Let him not see philosophy in tears,Like a fond mother solitary sit,Lamenting him her dear, and only child.But as the wisePythagoras, and he,Whose birth with pride the fam’d Abdera boasts,With expectation having long survey’dThis spot their ancient seat, with joy beheldDivine philosophy at length appearIn all her charms majestically fair,Conducted by immortalNewton’shand.So may he see another sage arise,That shall maintain her empire: then no moreImperious ignorance with haughty swayShall stalk rapacious o’er the ravag’d globe:Then thou, ONewton, shalt protect these lines.The humble tribute of the grateful muse;Ne’er shall the sacrilegious hand despoilHer laurel’d temples, whom his name preserves:And were she equal to the mighty theme,Futurity should wonder at her song;Time should receive her with extended arms,Seat her conspicuous in his rouling carr,And bear her down to his extreamest bound.Fableswith wonder tell how Terra’s sonsWith iron force unloos’d the stubborn nervesOf hills, and on the cloud-inshrouded topOf Pelion Ossa pil’d. But if the vastGigantick deeds of savage strength demandAstonishment from men, what then shalt thou,O what expressive rapture of the soul,When thou before us,Newton, dost displayThe labours of thy great excelling mind;When thou unveilest all the wondrous scene,The vast idea of th’ eternal king,Not dreadful bearing in his angry armThe thunder hanging o’er our trembling heads;But with th’ effulgency of love replete,And clad with power, which form’d th’ extensive heavens.O happy he, whose enterprizing handUnbars the golden and relucid gatesOf th’ empyrean dome, where thou enthron’dPhilosophy art seated. Thou sustain’dBy the firm hand of everlasting truthDespisest all the injuries of time;Thou never know’st decay when all around,Antiquity obscures her head. BeholdTh’ Egyptian towers, the Babylonian walls,And Thebes with all her hundred gates of brass,Behold them scatter’d like the dust abroad.Whatever now is flourishing and proud,Whatever shall, must know devouring age.Euphrates’ stream, and seven-mouthed Nile,And Danube, thou that from Germania’s soilTo the black Euxine’s far remoted shore,O’er the wide bounds of mighty nations sweep’stIn thunder loud thy rapid floods along.Ev’n you shall feel inexorable time;To you the fatal day shall come; no moreYour torrents then shall shake the trembling ground,No longer then to inundations swol’nTh’ imperious waves the fertile pastures drench,But shrunk within a narrow channel glide;Or through the year’s reiterated courseWhen time himself grows old, your wond’rous streamsLost ev’n to memory shall lie unknownBeneath obscurity, and Chaos whelm’d,But still thou sun illuminatest allThe azure regions round, thou guidest stillThe orbits of the planetary spheres;The moon still wanders o’er her changing course,And still, ONewton, shall thy name survive:As long as nature’s hand directs the world,When ev’ry dark obstruction shall retire,And ev’ry secret yield its hidden store,Which thee dim-sighted age forbad to seeAge that alone could stay thy rising soul.And could mankind among the fixed stars,E’en to th’ extremest bounds of knowledge reach,To those unknown innumerable suns,Whose light but glimmers from those distant worlds,Ev’n to those utmost boundaries, those barsThat shut the entrance of th’ illumin’d spaceWhere angels only tread the vast unknown,Thou ever should’st be seen immortal there:In each new sphere, each new-appearing sun,In farthest regions at the very vergeOf the wide universe should’st thou be seen.And lo, th’ all-potent goddessNaturetakesWith her own hand thy great, thy just rewardOf immortality; aloft in airSee she displays, and with eternal graspUprears the trophies of greatNewton’s fame.R. Glover.

IDrew up the following papers many years ago at the desire of some friends, who, upon my taking care of the late edition of SirIsaac Newton’sPrincipia, perswaded me to make them publick. I laid hold of that opportunity, when my thoughts were afresh employed on this subject, to revise what I had formerly written. And I now send it abroad not without some hopes of answering these two ends. My first intention was to convey to such, as are not used to mathematical reasoning, some idea of the philosophy of a person, who has acquired an universal reputation, and rendered our nation famous for these speculations in the learned world. To which purpose I have avoided using terms of art as much as possible, and taken care to define such as I was obliged to use. Though this caution was the less necessary at present, since many of them are become familiar words to our language, from the great number of books wrote in it upon philosophical subjects, and the courses of experiments, that have of late years been given by several ingenious men. The other view I had, was to encourage such young gentlemen as have a turn for the mathematical sciences, to pursue those studies the more chearfully, in order to understand in our author himself the demonstrations of the things I here declare. And to facilitate their progress herein, I intend to proceed still farther in the explanation of SirIsaac Newton’sphilosophy. For as I have received very much pleasure from perusing his writings, I hope it is no illaudable ambition to endeavour the rendering them more easily understood, that greater numbers may enjoy the same satisfaction.

It will perhaps be expected, that I should say something particular of a person, to whom I must always acknowledge my self to be much obliged. What I have to declare on this head will be but short; for it was in the very last years of SirIsaac’s life, that I had the honourof his acquaintance. This happened on the following occasion. Mr.Polenus,a Professor in the University ofPadua,from a new experiment of his, thought the common opinion about the force of moving bodies was overturned, and the truth of Mr.Libnitz’s notion in that matter fully proved. The contrary of what Polenus had asserted I demonstrated in a paper, which Dr.Mead,who takes all opportunities of obliging his friends, was pleased to shew SirIsaac NewtonThis was so well approved of by him, that he did me the honour to become a fellow-writer with me, by annexing to what I had written, a demonstration of his own drawn from another consideration. When I printed my discourse in the philosophical transactions, I put what SirIsaachad written in a scholium by it self, that I might not seem to usurp what did not belong to me. But I concealed his name, not being then sufficiently acquainted with him to ask whether he was willing I might make use of it or not. In a little time after he engaged me to take care of the new edition he was about making if his Principia. This obliged me to be very frequently with him, and as he lived at some distance from me, a great number of letters passed between us on this account. When I had the honour of his conversation, I endeavoured to learn his thoughts upon mathematical subjects, and something historical concerning his inventions, that I had not been before acquainted with. I found, he had read fewer of the modern mathematicians, than one could have expected; but his own prodigious invention readily supplied him with what he might have an occasion for in the pursuit of any subject he undertook. I have often heard him censure the handling geometrical subjects by algebraic calculations; and his book of Algebra he called by the name of Universal Arithmetic, in opposition to the injudicious title of Geometry, whichDes Carteshad given to the treatise, wherein he shews, how the geometer may assist his invention by such kind of computations. He frequently praisedSlusius, BarrowandHuygensfor not being influenced by the false taste, which then began to prevail. He used to commend the laudable attempt ofHugo de Omeriqueto restore the ancient analysis, and very much esteemed Apollonius’s book De sectione rationis for giving us a clearer notion of that analysis than we had before. Dr.Barrowmay be esteemed as havingshewn a compass of invention equal, if not superior to any of the moderns, our author only excepted; but SirIsaac Newtonhas several times particularly recommended to meHuygens’s stile and manner. He thought him the most elegant of any mathematical writer of modern times, and the most just imitator of the antients. Of their taste, and form of demonstration SirIsaacalways professed himself a great admirer: I have heard him even censure himself for not following them yet more closely than he did; and speak with regret of his mistake at the beginning of his mathematical studies, in applying himself to the works ofDes Cartesand other algebraic writers, before he had considered the elements ofEuclidewith that attention, which so excellent a writer deserves. As to the history of his inventions, what relates to his discoveries of the methods of series and fluxions, and of his theory of light and colours, the world has been sufficiently informed of already. The first thoughts, which gave rise to his Principia, he had, when he retired fromCambridgein 1666 on account of the plague. As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the power of gravity: that as this power is not found sensibly diminished at the remotest distance from the center of the earth, to which we can rise, neither at the tops of the loftiest buildings, nor even on the summits of the highest mountains; it appeared to him reasonable to conclude, that this power must extend much farther than was usually thought; why not as high as the moon, said he to himself? and if so, her motion must be influenced by it; perhaps she is retained in her orbit thereby. However, though the power of gravity is not sensibly weakened in the little change of distance, at which we can place our selves from the center of the earth; yet it is very possible, that so high as the moon this power may differ much in strength from what it is here. To make an estimate, what might be the degree of this diminution, he considered with himself, that if the moon be retained in her orbit by the force of gravity, no doubt the primary planets are carried round the sun by the like power. And by comparing the periods of the several planets with their distances from the sun, he found, that if any power like gravity held them in their courses, its strength must decrease in the duplicate proportion of the increase of distance. Thisbe concluded by supposing them to move in perfect circles concentrical to the sun, from which the orbits of the greatest part of them do not much differ. Supposing therefore the power of gravity, when extended to the moon, to decrease in the same manner, he computed whether that force would be sufficient to keep the moon in her orbit. In this computation, being absent from books, he took the common estimate in use among geographers and our seamen, beforeNorwoodhad measured the earth, that 60 English miles were contained in one degree of latitude on the surface of the earth. But as this is a very faulty supposition, each degree containing about 69½ of our miles, his computation did not answer expectation; whence he concluded, that some other cause must at least join with the action of the power of gravity on the moon. On this account he laid aside for that time any farther thoughts upon this matter. But some years after, a letter which he received from Dr.Hook,put him on inquiring what was the real figure, in which a body let fall from any high place descends, taking the motion of the earth round its axis into consideration. Such a body, having the same motion, which by the revolution of the earth the place has whence it falls, is to be considered as projected forward and at the same time drawn down to the center of the earth. This gave occasion to his resuming his former thoughts concerning the moon; andPicartinFrancehaving lately measured the earth, by using his measures the moon appeared to be kept in her orbit purely by the power of gravity; and consequently, that this power decreases as you recede from the center of the earth in the manner our author had formerly conjectured. Upon this principle he found the line described by a falling body to be an ellipsis, the center of the earth being one focus. And the primary planets moving in such orbits round the sun, he had the satisfaction to see, that this inquiry, which he had undertaken merely out of curiosity, could be applied to the greatest purposes. Hereupon he composed near a dozen propositions relating to the motion of the primary planets about the sun. Several years after this, some discourse he had with Dr.Halley,who at Cambridge made him a visit, engaged SirIsaac Newtonto resume again the consideration of this subject; and gave occasionto his writing the treatise which he published under the title of mathematical principles of natural philosophy. This treatise, full of such a variety of profound inventions, was composed by him from scarce any other materials than the few propositions before mentioned, in the space of one year and an half.

Though his memory was much decayed, I found he perfectly understood his own writings, contrary to what I had frequently heard in discourse from many persons. This opinion of theirs might arise perhaps from his not being always ready at speaking on these subjects, when it might be expected he should. But as to this, it may be observed, that great genius’s are frequently liable to be absent, not only in relation to common life, but with regard to some of the parts of science they are the best informed of. Inventors seem to treasure up in their minds, what they have found out, after another manner than those do the same things, who have not this inventive faculty. The former, when they have occasion to produce their knowledge, are in some measure obliged immediately to investigate part of what they want. For this they are not equally fit at all times: so it has often happened, that such as retain things chiefly by means of a very strong memory, have appeared off hand more expert than the discoverers themselves.

As to the moral endowments of his mind, they were as much to be admired as his other talents. But this is a field I leave others to exspatiate in. I only touch upon what I experienced myself during the few years I was happy in his friendship. But this I immediately discovered in him, which at once both surprized and charmed me: Neither his extreme great age, nor his universal reputation had rendred him stiff in opinion, or in any degree elated. Of this I had occasion to have almost daily experience. The Remarks I continually sent him by letters on his Principia were received with the utmost goodness. These were so far from being any ways displeasing to him, that on the contrary it occasioned him to speak many kind things of me to my friends, and to honour me with a publick testimony of his good opinion. He also approved of the following treatise, a great part of which we read together. As many alterations weremade in the late edition of his Principia, so there would have been many more if there had been a sufficient time. But whatever of this kind may be thought wanting, I shall endeavour to supply in my comment on that book. I had reason to believe he expected such a thing from me, and I intended to have published it in his life time, after I had printed the following discourse, and a mathematical treatise SirIsaac Newtonhad written a long while ago, containing the first principles of fluxions, for I had prevailed on him to let that piece go abroad. I had examined all the calculations, and prepared part of the figures; but as the latter part of the treatise had never been finished, he was about letting me have other papers, in order to supply what was wanting. But his death put a stop to that design. As to my comment on the Principia, I intend there to demonstrate whatever SirIsaac Newtonhas set down without express proof, and to explain all such expressions in his book, as I shall judge necessary. This comment I shall forthwith put to the press, joined to an english translation of his Principia, which I have had some time by me. A more particular account of my whole design has already been published in the new memoirs of literature for the month of march 1727.

I have presented my readers with a copy of verses on SirIsaac Newton,which I have just received from a young Gentleman, whom I am proud to reckon among the number of my dearest friends. If I had any apprehension that this piece of poetry stood in need of an apology, I should be desirous the reader might know, that the author is but sixteen years old, and was obliged to finish his composition in a very short space of time. But I shall only take the liberty to observe, that the boldness of the digressions will be best judged of by those who are acquainted withPindar.

APOEMONSirISAAC NEWTON.

ToNewton’s genius, and immortal fameTh’ advent’rous muse with trembling pinion soars.Thou, heav’nly truth, from thy seraphick throneLook favourable down, do thou assistMy lab’ring thought, do thou inspire my song.Newton, who first th’ almighty’s works display’d,And smooth’d that mirror, in whose polish’d faceThe great creator now conspicuous shines;Who open’d nature’s adamantine gates,And to our minds her secret powers expos’d;Newtondemands the muse; his sacred handShall guide her infant steps; his sacred handShall raise her to the Heliconian height,Where, on its lofty top inthron’d, her headShall mingle with the Stars. Hail nature, hail,O Goddess, handmaid of th’ ethereal power,Now lift thy head, and to th’ admiring worldShew thy long hidden beauty. Thee the wiseOf ancient fame, immortalPlato’s self,The Stagyrite, and Syracusian sage,From black obscurity’s abyss to raise,(Drooping and mourning o’er thy wondrous works)With vain inquiry sought. Like meteors theseIn their dark age bright sons of wisdom shone:But at thyNewtonall their laurels fade,They shrink from all the honours of their names.So glimm’ring stars contract their feeble rays,When the swift lustre ofAurora’s faceFlows o’er the skies, and wraps the heav’ns in light.TheDeity’s omnipotence, the cause,Th’ original of things long lay unknown.Alone the beauties prominent to sight(Of the celestial power the outward form)Drew praise and wonder from the gazing world.As when the deluge overspread the earth,Whilst yet the mountains only rear’d their headsAbove the surface of the wild expanse,Whelm’d deep below the great foundations lay,Till some kind angel at heav’n’s high commandRoul’d back the rising tides, and haughty floods,And to the ocean thunder’d out his voice:Quick all the swelling and imperious waves,The foaming billows and obscuring surge,Back to their channels and their ancient seatsRecoil affrighted: from the darksome mainEarth raises smiling, as new-born, her head,And with fresh charms her lovely face arrays.So his extensive thought accomplish’d firstThe mighty task to drive th’ obstructing mistsOf ignorance away, beneath whose gloomTh’ inshrouded majesty of Nature lay.He drew the veil and swell’d the spreading scene.How had the moon around th’ ethereal voidRang’d, and eluded lab’ring mortals care,Till his invention trac’d her secret steps,While she inconstant with unsteady reinThrough endless mazes and meanders guidesIn its unequal course her changing carr:Whether behind the sun’s superior lightShe hides the beauties of her radiant face,Or, when conspicuous, smiles upon mankind,Unveiling all her night-rejoicing charms.When thus the silver-tressed moon dispelsThe frowning horrors from the brow of night,And with her splendors chears the sullen gloom,While sable-mantled darkness with his veilThe visage of the fair horizon shades,And over nature spreads his raven wings;Let me upon some unfrequented greenWhile sleep sits heavy on the drowsy world,Seek out some solitary peaceful cell,Where darksome woods around their gloomy browsBow low, and ev’ry hill’s protended shadeObscures the dusky vale, there silent dwell,Where contemplation holds its still abode,There trace the wide and pathless void of heav’n,And count the stars that sparkle on its robe.Or else in fancy’s wild’ring mazes lostUpon the verdure see the fairy elvesDance o’er their magick circles, or behold,In thought enraptur’d with the ancient bards,Medea’s baleful incantations drawDown from her orb the paly queen of night.But chieflyNewtonlet me soar with thee,And while surveying all yon starry vaultWith admiration I attentive gaze,Thou shalt descend from thy celestial seat,And waft aloft my high-aspiring mind,Shalt shew me there how nature has ordain’dHer fundamental laws, shalt lead my thoughtThrough all the wand’rings of th’ uncertain moon,And teach me all her operating powers.She and the sun with influence conjointWield the huge axle of the whirling earth,And from their just direction turn the poles,Slow urging on the progress of the years.The constellations seem to leave their seats,And o’er the skies with solemn pace to move.You, splendid rulers of the day and night,The seas obey, at your resistless swayNow they contract their waters, and exposeThe dreary desart of old ocean’s reign.The craggy rocks their horrid sides disclose;Trembling the sailor views the dreadful scene,And cautiously the threat’ning ruin shuns.But where the shallow waters hide the sands,There ravenous destruction lurks conceal’d,There the ill-guided vessel falls a prey,And all her numbers gorge his greedy jaws.But quick returning see th’ impetuous tidesBack to th’ abandon’d shores impell the main.Again the foaming seas extend their waves,Again the rouling floods embrace the shoars,And veil the horrours of the empty deep.Thus the obsequious seas your power confess,While from the surface healthful vapours risePlenteous throughout the atmosphere diffus’d,Or to supply the mountain’s heads with springs,Or fill the hanging clouds with needful rains,That friendly streams, and kind refreshing show’rsMay gently lave the sun-burnt thirsty plains,Or to replenish all the empty airWith wholsome moisture to increase the fruitsOf earth, and bless the labours of mankind.ONewton, whether flies thy mighty soul,How shall the feeble muse pursue through allThe vast extent of thy unbounded thought,That even seeks th’ unseen recesses darkTo penetrate of providence immense.And thou the great dispenser of the worldPropitious, who with inspiration taught’stOur greatest bard to send thy praises forth;Thou, who gav’stNewtonthought; who smil’dst serene,When to its bounds he stretch’d his swelling soul;Who still benignant ever blest his toil,And deign’d to his enlight’ned mind t’ appearConfess’d around th’ interminated world:To me O thy divine infusion grant(O thou in all so infinitely good)That I may sing thy everlasting works,Thy inexhausted store of providence,In thought effulgent and resounding verse.O could I spread the wond’rous theme around,Where the wind cools the oriental world,To the calm breezes of the Zephir’s breath,To where the frozen hyperborean blasts.To where the boist’rous tempest-leading southFrom their deep hollow caves send forth their storms.Thou still indulgent parent of mankind,Left humid emanations should no moreFlow from the ocean, but dissolve awayThrough the long series of revolving time;And left the vital principle decay,By which the air supplies the springs of life;Thou hast the fiery visag’d comets form’dWith vivifying spirits all replete,Which they abundant breathe about the void,Renewing the prolifick soul of things.No longer now on thee amaz’d we call,No longer tremble at imagin’d ills,When comets blaze tremendous from on high,Or when extending wide their flaming trainsWith hideous grasp the skies engirdle round,And spread the terrors of their burning locks.For these through orbits in the length’ning spaceOf many tedious rouling years compleatAround the sun move regularly on;And with the planets in harmonious orbs,And mystick periods their obeysance payTo him majestick ruler of the skiesUpon his throne of circled glory fixt.He or some god conspicuous to the view,Or else the substitute of nature seems,Guiding the courses of revolving worlds.He taught greatNewtonthe all-potent lawsOf gravitation, by whose simple powerThe universe exists. Nor here the sageBig with invention still renewing staid.But O bright angel of the lamp of day,How shall the muse display his greatest toil?Let her plunge deep in Aganippe’s waves,Or in Castalia’s ever-flowing stream,That re-inspired she may sing to thee,HowNewtondar’d advent’rous to unbraidThe yellow tresses of thy shining hair.Or didst thou gracious leave thy radiant sphere,And to his hand thy lucid splendours give,T’ unweave the light-diffusing wreath, and partThe blended glories of thy golden plumes?He with laborious, and unerring care,How different and imbodied colours formThy piercing light, with just distinction found.He with quick sight pursu’d thy darting rays,When penetrating to th’ obscure recessOf solid matter, there perspicuous saw,How in the texture of each body layThe power that separates the different beams.Hence over nature’s unadorned faceThy bright diversifying rays dilateTheir various hues: and hence when vernal rainsDescending swift have burst the low’ring clouds,Thy splendors through the dissipating mistsIn its fair vesture of unnumber’d huesArray the show’ry bow. At thy approachThe morning risen from her pearly couchWith rosy blushes decks her virgin cheek;The ev’ning on the frontispiece of heav’nHis mantle spreads with many colours gay;The mid-day skies in radiant azure clad,The shining clouds, and silver vapours rob’dIn white transparent intermixt with gold,With bright variety of splendor cloathAll the illuminated face above.When hoary-headed winter back retiresTo the chill’d pole, there solitary sitsEncompass’d round with winds and tempests bleakIn caverns of impenetrable ice,And from behind the dissipated gloomLike a new Venus from the parting surgeThe gay-apparell’d spring advances on;When thou in thy meridian brightness sitt’st,And from thy throne pure emanations flowOf glory bursting o’er the radiant skies:Then let the muse Olympus’ top ascend,And o’er Thessalia’s plain extend her view,And count, O Tempe, all thy beauties o’er.Mountains, whose summits grasp the pendant clouds,Between their wood-invelop’d slopes embraceThe green-attired vallies. Every flow’rHere in the pride of bounteous nature cladSmiles on the bosom of th’ enamell’d meads.Over the smiling lawn the silver floodsOf fair Peneus gently roul along,While the reflected colours from the flow’rs,And verdant borders pierce the lympid waves,And paint with all their variegated hueThe yellow sands beneath. Smooth gliding onThe waters hasten to the neighbouring sea.Still the pleas’d eye the floating plain pursues;At length, in Neptune’s wide dominion lost,Surveys the shining billows, that ariseApparell’d each in Phœbus’ bright attire:Or from a far some tall majestick ship,Or the long hostile lines of threat’ning fleets,Which o’er the bright uneven mirror sweep,In dazling gold and waving purple deckt;Such as of old, when haughty Athens powerTheir hideous front, and terrible arrayAgainst Pallene’s coast extended wide,And with tremendous war and battel sternThe trembling walls of Potidæa shook.Crested with pendants curling with the breezeThe upright masts high bristle in the air,Aloft exalting proud their gilded heads.The silver waves against the painted prowsRaise their resplendent bosoms, and impearlThe fair vermillion with their glist’ring drops:And from on board the iron-cloathed hostAround the main a gleaming horrour casts;Each flaming buckler like the mid-day sun,Each plumed helmet like the silver moon,Each moving gauntlet like the light’ning’s blaze,And like a star each brazen pointed spear.But lo the sacred high-erected fanes,Fair citadels, and marble-crowned towers,And sumptuous palaces of stately townsMagnificent arise, upon their headsBearing on high a wreath of silver light.But see my muse the high Pierian hill,Behold its shaggy locks and airy top,Up to the skies th’ imperious mountain heavesThe shining verdure of the nodding woods.See where the silver Hippocrene flows,Behold each glitt’ring rivulet, and rillThrough mazes wander down the green descent,And sparkle through the interwoven trees.Here rest a while and humble homage pay,Here, where the sacred genius, that inspir’dSublimeMæonidesandPindar’sbreast,His habitation once was fam’d to hold.Here thou, OHomer, offer’dst up thy vows,Thee, the kind museCalliopæaheard,And led thee to the empyrean feats,There manifested to thy hallow’d eyesThe deeds of gods; thee wiseMinervataughtThe wondrous art of knowing human kind;HarmoniousPhœbustun’d thy heav’nly mind,And swell’d to rapture each exalted sense;EvenMarsthe dreadful battle-ruling god,Marstaught thee war, and with his bloody handInstructed thine, when in thy sounding linesWe hear the rattling of Bellona’s carr,The yell of discord, and the din of arms.Pindar, when mounted on his fiery steed,Soars to the sun, opposing eagle likeHis eyes undazled to the fiercest rays.He firmly seated, not likeGlaucus’son,Strides his swift-winged and fire-breathing horse,And born aloft strikes with his ringing hoofsThe brazen vault of heav’n, superior thereLooks down upon the stars, whose radiant lightIlluminates innumerable worlds,That through eternal orbits roul beneath.But thou all hail immortalized sonOf harmony, all hail thou Thracian bard,To whomApollogave his tuneful lyre.O might’st thou,Orpheus, now again revive,AndNewtonshould inform thy list’ning earHow the soft notes, and soul-inchanting strainsOf thy own lyre were on the wind convey’d.He taught the muse, how sound progressive floatsUpon the waving particles of air,When harmony in ever-pleasing strains,Melodious melting at each lulling fall,With soft alluring penetration stealsThrough the enraptur’d ear to inmost thought,And folds the senses in its silken bands.So the sweet musick, which fromOrpheus’ touchAnd fam’dAmphion’s, on the sounding stringArose harmonious, gliding on the air,Pierc’d the tough-bark’d and knotty-ribbed woods,Into their saps soft inspiration breath’dAnd taught attention to the stubborn oak.Thus when greatHenry, and braveMarlb’roughledTh’ imbattled numbers ofBritannia’ssons,The trump, that swells th’ expanded cheek of fame,That adds new vigour to the gen’rous youth,And rouzes sluggish cowardize it self,The trumpet with its Mars-inciting voice,The winds broad breast impetuous sweeping o’erFill’d the big note of war. Th’ inspired hostWith new-born ardor press the tremblingGaul;Nor greater throngs had reach’d eternal night,Not if the fields of Agencourt had yawn’dExposing horrible the gulf of fate;Or roaring Danube spread his arms abroad,And overwhelm’d their legions with his floods.But let the wand’ring muse at length return;Nor yet, angelick genius of the sun,In worthy lays her high-attempting songHas blazon’d forth thy venerated name.Then let her sweep the loud-resounding lyreAgain, again o’er each melodious stringTeach harmony to tremble with thy praise.And still thine ear O favourable grant,And she shall tell thee, that whatever charms,Whatever beauties bloom on nature’s face,Proceed from thy all-influencing light.That when arising with tempestuous rage,The North impetuous rides upon the cloudsDispersing round the heav’ns obstructive gloom,And with his dreaded prohibition staysThe kind effusion of thy genial beams;Pale are the rubies onAurora’slips,No more the roses blush upon her cheeks,Black are Peneus’ streams and golden sandsIn Tempe’s vale dull melancholy sits,And every flower reclines its languid head.By what high name shall I invoke thee, say,Thou life-infusing deity, on theeI call, and look propitious from on high,While now to thee I offer up my prayer.O had greatNewton, as he found the cause,By which sound rouls thro’ th’ undulating air,O had he, baffling times resistless power,Discover’d what that subtle spirit is,Or whatsoe’er diffusive else is spreadOver the wide-extended universe,Which causes bodies to reflect the light,And from their straight direction to divertThe rapid beams, that through their surface pierce.But since embrac’d by th’ icy arms of age,And his quick thought by times cold hand congeal’d,Ev’nNewtonleft unknown this hidden power;Thou from the race of human kind selectSome other worthy of an angel’s care,With inspiration animate his breast,And him instruct in these thy secret laws.O let notNewton, to whose spacious view,Now unobstructed, all th’ extensive scenesOf the ethereal ruler’s works arise;When he beholds this earth he late adorn’d,Let him not see philosophy in tears,Like a fond mother solitary sit,Lamenting him her dear, and only child.But as the wisePythagoras, and he,Whose birth with pride the fam’d Abdera boasts,With expectation having long survey’dThis spot their ancient seat, with joy beheldDivine philosophy at length appearIn all her charms majestically fair,Conducted by immortalNewton’shand.So may he see another sage arise,That shall maintain her empire: then no moreImperious ignorance with haughty swayShall stalk rapacious o’er the ravag’d globe:Then thou, ONewton, shalt protect these lines.The humble tribute of the grateful muse;Ne’er shall the sacrilegious hand despoilHer laurel’d temples, whom his name preserves:And were she equal to the mighty theme,Futurity should wonder at her song;Time should receive her with extended arms,Seat her conspicuous in his rouling carr,And bear her down to his extreamest bound.Fableswith wonder tell how Terra’s sonsWith iron force unloos’d the stubborn nervesOf hills, and on the cloud-inshrouded topOf Pelion Ossa pil’d. But if the vastGigantick deeds of savage strength demandAstonishment from men, what then shalt thou,O what expressive rapture of the soul,When thou before us,Newton, dost displayThe labours of thy great excelling mind;When thou unveilest all the wondrous scene,The vast idea of th’ eternal king,Not dreadful bearing in his angry armThe thunder hanging o’er our trembling heads;But with th’ effulgency of love replete,And clad with power, which form’d th’ extensive heavens.O happy he, whose enterprizing handUnbars the golden and relucid gatesOf th’ empyrean dome, where thou enthron’dPhilosophy art seated. Thou sustain’dBy the firm hand of everlasting truthDespisest all the injuries of time;Thou never know’st decay when all around,Antiquity obscures her head. BeholdTh’ Egyptian towers, the Babylonian walls,And Thebes with all her hundred gates of brass,Behold them scatter’d like the dust abroad.Whatever now is flourishing and proud,Whatever shall, must know devouring age.Euphrates’ stream, and seven-mouthed Nile,And Danube, thou that from Germania’s soilTo the black Euxine’s far remoted shore,O’er the wide bounds of mighty nations sweep’stIn thunder loud thy rapid floods along.Ev’n you shall feel inexorable time;To you the fatal day shall come; no moreYour torrents then shall shake the trembling ground,No longer then to inundations swol’nTh’ imperious waves the fertile pastures drench,But shrunk within a narrow channel glide;Or through the year’s reiterated courseWhen time himself grows old, your wond’rous streamsLost ev’n to memory shall lie unknownBeneath obscurity, and Chaos whelm’d,But still thou sun illuminatest allThe azure regions round, thou guidest stillThe orbits of the planetary spheres;The moon still wanders o’er her changing course,And still, ONewton, shall thy name survive:As long as nature’s hand directs the world,When ev’ry dark obstruction shall retire,And ev’ry secret yield its hidden store,Which thee dim-sighted age forbad to seeAge that alone could stay thy rising soul.And could mankind among the fixed stars,E’en to th’ extremest bounds of knowledge reach,To those unknown innumerable suns,Whose light but glimmers from those distant worlds,Ev’n to those utmost boundaries, those barsThat shut the entrance of th’ illumin’d spaceWhere angels only tread the vast unknown,Thou ever should’st be seen immortal there:In each new sphere, each new-appearing sun,In farthest regions at the very vergeOf the wide universe should’st thou be seen.And lo, th’ all-potent goddessNaturetakesWith her own hand thy great, thy just rewardOf immortality; aloft in airSee she displays, and with eternal graspUprears the trophies of greatNewton’s fame.R. Glover.

ToNewton’s genius, and immortal fameTh’ advent’rous muse with trembling pinion soars.Thou, heav’nly truth, from thy seraphick throneLook favourable down, do thou assistMy lab’ring thought, do thou inspire my song.Newton, who first th’ almighty’s works display’d,And smooth’d that mirror, in whose polish’d faceThe great creator now conspicuous shines;Who open’d nature’s adamantine gates,And to our minds her secret powers expos’d;Newtondemands the muse; his sacred handShall guide her infant steps; his sacred handShall raise her to the Heliconian height,Where, on its lofty top inthron’d, her headShall mingle with the Stars. Hail nature, hail,O Goddess, handmaid of th’ ethereal power,Now lift thy head, and to th’ admiring worldShew thy long hidden beauty. Thee the wiseOf ancient fame, immortalPlato’s self,The Stagyrite, and Syracusian sage,From black obscurity’s abyss to raise,(Drooping and mourning o’er thy wondrous works)With vain inquiry sought. Like meteors theseIn their dark age bright sons of wisdom shone:But at thyNewtonall their laurels fade,They shrink from all the honours of their names.So glimm’ring stars contract their feeble rays,When the swift lustre ofAurora’s faceFlows o’er the skies, and wraps the heav’ns in light.

TheDeity’s omnipotence, the cause,Th’ original of things long lay unknown.Alone the beauties prominent to sight(Of the celestial power the outward form)Drew praise and wonder from the gazing world.As when the deluge overspread the earth,Whilst yet the mountains only rear’d their headsAbove the surface of the wild expanse,Whelm’d deep below the great foundations lay,Till some kind angel at heav’n’s high commandRoul’d back the rising tides, and haughty floods,And to the ocean thunder’d out his voice:Quick all the swelling and imperious waves,The foaming billows and obscuring surge,Back to their channels and their ancient seatsRecoil affrighted: from the darksome mainEarth raises smiling, as new-born, her head,And with fresh charms her lovely face arrays.So his extensive thought accomplish’d firstThe mighty task to drive th’ obstructing mistsOf ignorance away, beneath whose gloomTh’ inshrouded majesty of Nature lay.He drew the veil and swell’d the spreading scene.How had the moon around th’ ethereal voidRang’d, and eluded lab’ring mortals care,Till his invention trac’d her secret steps,While she inconstant with unsteady reinThrough endless mazes and meanders guidesIn its unequal course her changing carr:Whether behind the sun’s superior lightShe hides the beauties of her radiant face,Or, when conspicuous, smiles upon mankind,Unveiling all her night-rejoicing charms.When thus the silver-tressed moon dispelsThe frowning horrors from the brow of night,And with her splendors chears the sullen gloom,While sable-mantled darkness with his veilThe visage of the fair horizon shades,And over nature spreads his raven wings;Let me upon some unfrequented greenWhile sleep sits heavy on the drowsy world,Seek out some solitary peaceful cell,Where darksome woods around their gloomy browsBow low, and ev’ry hill’s protended shadeObscures the dusky vale, there silent dwell,Where contemplation holds its still abode,There trace the wide and pathless void of heav’n,And count the stars that sparkle on its robe.Or else in fancy’s wild’ring mazes lostUpon the verdure see the fairy elvesDance o’er their magick circles, or behold,In thought enraptur’d with the ancient bards,Medea’s baleful incantations drawDown from her orb the paly queen of night.But chieflyNewtonlet me soar with thee,And while surveying all yon starry vaultWith admiration I attentive gaze,Thou shalt descend from thy celestial seat,And waft aloft my high-aspiring mind,Shalt shew me there how nature has ordain’dHer fundamental laws, shalt lead my thoughtThrough all the wand’rings of th’ uncertain moon,And teach me all her operating powers.She and the sun with influence conjointWield the huge axle of the whirling earth,And from their just direction turn the poles,Slow urging on the progress of the years.The constellations seem to leave their seats,And o’er the skies with solemn pace to move.You, splendid rulers of the day and night,The seas obey, at your resistless swayNow they contract their waters, and exposeThe dreary desart of old ocean’s reign.The craggy rocks their horrid sides disclose;Trembling the sailor views the dreadful scene,And cautiously the threat’ning ruin shuns.But where the shallow waters hide the sands,There ravenous destruction lurks conceal’d,There the ill-guided vessel falls a prey,And all her numbers gorge his greedy jaws.But quick returning see th’ impetuous tidesBack to th’ abandon’d shores impell the main.Again the foaming seas extend their waves,Again the rouling floods embrace the shoars,And veil the horrours of the empty deep.Thus the obsequious seas your power confess,While from the surface healthful vapours risePlenteous throughout the atmosphere diffus’d,Or to supply the mountain’s heads with springs,Or fill the hanging clouds with needful rains,That friendly streams, and kind refreshing show’rsMay gently lave the sun-burnt thirsty plains,Or to replenish all the empty airWith wholsome moisture to increase the fruitsOf earth, and bless the labours of mankind.ONewton, whether flies thy mighty soul,How shall the feeble muse pursue through allThe vast extent of thy unbounded thought,That even seeks th’ unseen recesses darkTo penetrate of providence immense.And thou the great dispenser of the worldPropitious, who with inspiration taught’stOur greatest bard to send thy praises forth;Thou, who gav’stNewtonthought; who smil’dst serene,When to its bounds he stretch’d his swelling soul;Who still benignant ever blest his toil,And deign’d to his enlight’ned mind t’ appearConfess’d around th’ interminated world:To me O thy divine infusion grant(O thou in all so infinitely good)That I may sing thy everlasting works,Thy inexhausted store of providence,In thought effulgent and resounding verse.O could I spread the wond’rous theme around,Where the wind cools the oriental world,To the calm breezes of the Zephir’s breath,To where the frozen hyperborean blasts.To where the boist’rous tempest-leading southFrom their deep hollow caves send forth their storms.Thou still indulgent parent of mankind,Left humid emanations should no moreFlow from the ocean, but dissolve awayThrough the long series of revolving time;And left the vital principle decay,By which the air supplies the springs of life;Thou hast the fiery visag’d comets form’dWith vivifying spirits all replete,Which they abundant breathe about the void,Renewing the prolifick soul of things.No longer now on thee amaz’d we call,No longer tremble at imagin’d ills,When comets blaze tremendous from on high,Or when extending wide their flaming trainsWith hideous grasp the skies engirdle round,And spread the terrors of their burning locks.For these through orbits in the length’ning spaceOf many tedious rouling years compleatAround the sun move regularly on;And with the planets in harmonious orbs,And mystick periods their obeysance payTo him majestick ruler of the skiesUpon his throne of circled glory fixt.He or some god conspicuous to the view,Or else the substitute of nature seems,Guiding the courses of revolving worlds.He taught greatNewtonthe all-potent lawsOf gravitation, by whose simple powerThe universe exists. Nor here the sageBig with invention still renewing staid.But O bright angel of the lamp of day,How shall the muse display his greatest toil?Let her plunge deep in Aganippe’s waves,Or in Castalia’s ever-flowing stream,That re-inspired she may sing to thee,HowNewtondar’d advent’rous to unbraidThe yellow tresses of thy shining hair.Or didst thou gracious leave thy radiant sphere,And to his hand thy lucid splendours give,T’ unweave the light-diffusing wreath, and partThe blended glories of thy golden plumes?He with laborious, and unerring care,How different and imbodied colours formThy piercing light, with just distinction found.He with quick sight pursu’d thy darting rays,When penetrating to th’ obscure recessOf solid matter, there perspicuous saw,How in the texture of each body layThe power that separates the different beams.Hence over nature’s unadorned faceThy bright diversifying rays dilateTheir various hues: and hence when vernal rainsDescending swift have burst the low’ring clouds,Thy splendors through the dissipating mistsIn its fair vesture of unnumber’d huesArray the show’ry bow. At thy approachThe morning risen from her pearly couchWith rosy blushes decks her virgin cheek;The ev’ning on the frontispiece of heav’nHis mantle spreads with many colours gay;The mid-day skies in radiant azure clad,The shining clouds, and silver vapours rob’dIn white transparent intermixt with gold,With bright variety of splendor cloathAll the illuminated face above.When hoary-headed winter back retiresTo the chill’d pole, there solitary sitsEncompass’d round with winds and tempests bleakIn caverns of impenetrable ice,And from behind the dissipated gloomLike a new Venus from the parting surgeThe gay-apparell’d spring advances on;When thou in thy meridian brightness sitt’st,And from thy throne pure emanations flowOf glory bursting o’er the radiant skies:Then let the muse Olympus’ top ascend,And o’er Thessalia’s plain extend her view,And count, O Tempe, all thy beauties o’er.Mountains, whose summits grasp the pendant clouds,Between their wood-invelop’d slopes embraceThe green-attired vallies. Every flow’rHere in the pride of bounteous nature cladSmiles on the bosom of th’ enamell’d meads.Over the smiling lawn the silver floodsOf fair Peneus gently roul along,While the reflected colours from the flow’rs,And verdant borders pierce the lympid waves,And paint with all their variegated hueThe yellow sands beneath. Smooth gliding onThe waters hasten to the neighbouring sea.Still the pleas’d eye the floating plain pursues;At length, in Neptune’s wide dominion lost,Surveys the shining billows, that ariseApparell’d each in Phœbus’ bright attire:Or from a far some tall majestick ship,Or the long hostile lines of threat’ning fleets,Which o’er the bright uneven mirror sweep,In dazling gold and waving purple deckt;Such as of old, when haughty Athens powerTheir hideous front, and terrible arrayAgainst Pallene’s coast extended wide,And with tremendous war and battel sternThe trembling walls of Potidæa shook.Crested with pendants curling with the breezeThe upright masts high bristle in the air,Aloft exalting proud their gilded heads.The silver waves against the painted prowsRaise their resplendent bosoms, and impearlThe fair vermillion with their glist’ring drops:And from on board the iron-cloathed hostAround the main a gleaming horrour casts;Each flaming buckler like the mid-day sun,Each plumed helmet like the silver moon,Each moving gauntlet like the light’ning’s blaze,And like a star each brazen pointed spear.But lo the sacred high-erected fanes,Fair citadels, and marble-crowned towers,And sumptuous palaces of stately townsMagnificent arise, upon their headsBearing on high a wreath of silver light.But see my muse the high Pierian hill,Behold its shaggy locks and airy top,Up to the skies th’ imperious mountain heavesThe shining verdure of the nodding woods.See where the silver Hippocrene flows,Behold each glitt’ring rivulet, and rillThrough mazes wander down the green descent,And sparkle through the interwoven trees.Here rest a while and humble homage pay,Here, where the sacred genius, that inspir’dSublimeMæonidesandPindar’sbreast,His habitation once was fam’d to hold.Here thou, OHomer, offer’dst up thy vows,Thee, the kind museCalliopæaheard,And led thee to the empyrean feats,There manifested to thy hallow’d eyesThe deeds of gods; thee wiseMinervataughtThe wondrous art of knowing human kind;HarmoniousPhœbustun’d thy heav’nly mind,And swell’d to rapture each exalted sense;EvenMarsthe dreadful battle-ruling god,Marstaught thee war, and with his bloody handInstructed thine, when in thy sounding linesWe hear the rattling of Bellona’s carr,The yell of discord, and the din of arms.Pindar, when mounted on his fiery steed,Soars to the sun, opposing eagle likeHis eyes undazled to the fiercest rays.He firmly seated, not likeGlaucus’son,Strides his swift-winged and fire-breathing horse,And born aloft strikes with his ringing hoofsThe brazen vault of heav’n, superior thereLooks down upon the stars, whose radiant lightIlluminates innumerable worlds,That through eternal orbits roul beneath.But thou all hail immortalized sonOf harmony, all hail thou Thracian bard,To whomApollogave his tuneful lyre.O might’st thou,Orpheus, now again revive,AndNewtonshould inform thy list’ning earHow the soft notes, and soul-inchanting strainsOf thy own lyre were on the wind convey’d.He taught the muse, how sound progressive floatsUpon the waving particles of air,When harmony in ever-pleasing strains,Melodious melting at each lulling fall,With soft alluring penetration stealsThrough the enraptur’d ear to inmost thought,And folds the senses in its silken bands.So the sweet musick, which fromOrpheus’ touchAnd fam’dAmphion’s, on the sounding stringArose harmonious, gliding on the air,Pierc’d the tough-bark’d and knotty-ribbed woods,Into their saps soft inspiration breath’dAnd taught attention to the stubborn oak.Thus when greatHenry, and braveMarlb’roughledTh’ imbattled numbers ofBritannia’ssons,The trump, that swells th’ expanded cheek of fame,That adds new vigour to the gen’rous youth,And rouzes sluggish cowardize it self,The trumpet with its Mars-inciting voice,The winds broad breast impetuous sweeping o’erFill’d the big note of war. Th’ inspired hostWith new-born ardor press the tremblingGaul;Nor greater throngs had reach’d eternal night,Not if the fields of Agencourt had yawn’dExposing horrible the gulf of fate;Or roaring Danube spread his arms abroad,And overwhelm’d their legions with his floods.But let the wand’ring muse at length return;Nor yet, angelick genius of the sun,In worthy lays her high-attempting songHas blazon’d forth thy venerated name.Then let her sweep the loud-resounding lyreAgain, again o’er each melodious stringTeach harmony to tremble with thy praise.And still thine ear O favourable grant,And she shall tell thee, that whatever charms,Whatever beauties bloom on nature’s face,Proceed from thy all-influencing light.That when arising with tempestuous rage,The North impetuous rides upon the cloudsDispersing round the heav’ns obstructive gloom,And with his dreaded prohibition staysThe kind effusion of thy genial beams;Pale are the rubies onAurora’slips,No more the roses blush upon her cheeks,Black are Peneus’ streams and golden sandsIn Tempe’s vale dull melancholy sits,And every flower reclines its languid head.By what high name shall I invoke thee, say,Thou life-infusing deity, on theeI call, and look propitious from on high,While now to thee I offer up my prayer.O had greatNewton, as he found the cause,By which sound rouls thro’ th’ undulating air,O had he, baffling times resistless power,Discover’d what that subtle spirit is,Or whatsoe’er diffusive else is spreadOver the wide-extended universe,Which causes bodies to reflect the light,And from their straight direction to divertThe rapid beams, that through their surface pierce.But since embrac’d by th’ icy arms of age,And his quick thought by times cold hand congeal’d,Ev’nNewtonleft unknown this hidden power;Thou from the race of human kind selectSome other worthy of an angel’s care,With inspiration animate his breast,And him instruct in these thy secret laws.O let notNewton, to whose spacious view,Now unobstructed, all th’ extensive scenesOf the ethereal ruler’s works arise;When he beholds this earth he late adorn’d,Let him not see philosophy in tears,Like a fond mother solitary sit,Lamenting him her dear, and only child.But as the wisePythagoras, and he,Whose birth with pride the fam’d Abdera boasts,With expectation having long survey’dThis spot their ancient seat, with joy beheldDivine philosophy at length appearIn all her charms majestically fair,Conducted by immortalNewton’shand.So may he see another sage arise,That shall maintain her empire: then no moreImperious ignorance with haughty swayShall stalk rapacious o’er the ravag’d globe:Then thou, ONewton, shalt protect these lines.The humble tribute of the grateful muse;Ne’er shall the sacrilegious hand despoilHer laurel’d temples, whom his name preserves:And were she equal to the mighty theme,Futurity should wonder at her song;Time should receive her with extended arms,Seat her conspicuous in his rouling carr,And bear her down to his extreamest bound.

Fableswith wonder tell how Terra’s sonsWith iron force unloos’d the stubborn nervesOf hills, and on the cloud-inshrouded topOf Pelion Ossa pil’d. But if the vastGigantick deeds of savage strength demandAstonishment from men, what then shalt thou,O what expressive rapture of the soul,When thou before us,Newton, dost displayThe labours of thy great excelling mind;When thou unveilest all the wondrous scene,The vast idea of th’ eternal king,Not dreadful bearing in his angry armThe thunder hanging o’er our trembling heads;But with th’ effulgency of love replete,And clad with power, which form’d th’ extensive heavens.O happy he, whose enterprizing handUnbars the golden and relucid gatesOf th’ empyrean dome, where thou enthron’dPhilosophy art seated. Thou sustain’dBy the firm hand of everlasting truthDespisest all the injuries of time;Thou never know’st decay when all around,Antiquity obscures her head. BeholdTh’ Egyptian towers, the Babylonian walls,And Thebes with all her hundred gates of brass,Behold them scatter’d like the dust abroad.Whatever now is flourishing and proud,Whatever shall, must know devouring age.Euphrates’ stream, and seven-mouthed Nile,And Danube, thou that from Germania’s soilTo the black Euxine’s far remoted shore,O’er the wide bounds of mighty nations sweep’stIn thunder loud thy rapid floods along.Ev’n you shall feel inexorable time;To you the fatal day shall come; no moreYour torrents then shall shake the trembling ground,No longer then to inundations swol’nTh’ imperious waves the fertile pastures drench,But shrunk within a narrow channel glide;Or through the year’s reiterated courseWhen time himself grows old, your wond’rous streamsLost ev’n to memory shall lie unknownBeneath obscurity, and Chaos whelm’d,But still thou sun illuminatest allThe azure regions round, thou guidest stillThe orbits of the planetary spheres;The moon still wanders o’er her changing course,And still, ONewton, shall thy name survive:As long as nature’s hand directs the world,When ev’ry dark obstruction shall retire,And ev’ry secret yield its hidden store,Which thee dim-sighted age forbad to seeAge that alone could stay thy rising soul.And could mankind among the fixed stars,E’en to th’ extremest bounds of knowledge reach,To those unknown innumerable suns,Whose light but glimmers from those distant worlds,Ev’n to those utmost boundaries, those barsThat shut the entrance of th’ illumin’d spaceWhere angels only tread the vast unknown,Thou ever should’st be seen immortal there:In each new sphere, each new-appearing sun,In farthest regions at the very vergeOf the wide universe should’st thou be seen.And lo, th’ all-potent goddessNaturetakesWith her own hand thy great, thy just rewardOf immortality; aloft in airSee she displays, and with eternal graspUprears the trophies of greatNewton’s fame.

R. Glover.

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