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VIII. Who stands amid the ever-varying world, The burthen or the glory of the earth; He chief perceives the change, his being notes The gradual renovation, and defines Each movement of its progress on his mind.

Man, where the gloom of the long polar night Lowers o'er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil, Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frost Basks in the moonlight's ineffectual glow, Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night; His chilled and narrow energies, his heart, Insensible to courage, truth, or love, His stunted stature and imbecile frame, Marked him for some abortion of the earth, Fit compeer of the bears that roamed around, Whose habits and enjoyments were his own: His life a feverish dream of stagnant woe, Whose meagre wants but scantily fulfilled, Apprised him ever of the joyless length Which his short being's wretchedness had reached; His death a pang, which famine, cold, and toil Long on the mind, whilst yet the vital spark Clung to the body stubbornly, had brought: All was inflicted here that earth's revenge Could wreak on the infringers of her law; One curse alone was spared—the name of God.

Nor where the tropics bound the realms of day With a broad belt of mingling cloud and flame, Where blue mists through the unmoving atmosphere