For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn; 100
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
O'erflow thy courts: The Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own MESSIAH reigns!




AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCIX.


PART I.

Introduction.--That 'tis as great a fault to judge ill, as to write ill,
and a more dangerous one to the public, ver. 1. That a true taste is as
rare to be found as a true genius, ver. 9-18. That most men are born
with some taste, but spoiled by false education, ver. 19-25. The
multitude of critics, and causes of them, ver. 26-45. That we are to