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In this new happy scene Are nobler subjects for your learned pen; Here we expect from you More than your predecessor Adam knew; Whatever moves our wonder, or our sport, Whatever serves for innocent emblems of the court; How that which we a kernel see, (Whose well-compacted forms escape the light, Unpierced by the blunt rays of sight,) Shall ere long grow into a tree; Whence takes it its increase, and whence its birth, Or from the sun, or from the air, or from the earth, Where all the fruitful atoms lie; How some go downward to the root, Some more ambitious upwards fly, And form the leaves, the branches, and the fruit. You strove to cultivate a barren court in vain, Your garden's better worth your nobler pain, Here mankind fell, and hence must rise again.