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Rh And circles trac'd upon the letter'd hore. Beneath his willows rove th' inquiring youth, And court the fair majetic form of truth. Here nature opens all her ecret prings, And heav'n-born cience plumes her eagle-wings: Too long had bigot rage, with malice well'd, Cruh'd her trong pinions, and her flight witheld; Too long to check her ardent progres trove: So writhes the erpent round the bird of Jove; Hangs on her flight, retrains her tow'ring wing, Twits its dark folds, and points its venom'd ting. Yet till (if aught aright the Mue divine) Her riing pride hall mock the vain deign; On ounding pinions yet aloft hall oar, And thro' the azure deep untravel'd paths explore. Where cience miles, the Mues join the train; And gentlet arts and puret manners reign. Ye generous youth who love this tudious hade, How