HENCE lead me, Muses, thro' yon arched Grove,
Adorn'd with Sand below, and Leaves above;
Or let me o'er the spacious Oval trace,
Where verdant Carpets spread the lovely Place;
Where Trees in regular Confusion stand,
And sylvan Beauties rise on ev'ry Hand:
Or bear me, Nymphs, to the sequester'd Cell,
Where BOYLE and NEWTON, mighty Sages! dwell;
Whose Fame shall live, altho' the Grot decay,
Long as those sacred Truths their Works display.