Who doubts that thou art finite? Who They seek not; or amiss they seek PAGE Prologue. THAT Sun-eyed Power which stands sublime She, sovereign of the orb she guides, And shrinks not from the fontal blaze: But they - her daughter Arts Within the cleft, content to see Dim skirts of glory waving wide, And steps of parting Deity. must hide 'Tis theirs to watch Religion break In types from Nature's frown or smile, The legend rise from out the lake, The relic consecrate the isle. |