CONCLUSION. Having brought before your view, facts so deaf to me, and so desirable, for you to know, I cannot close this work without expressing the constant pleasure I have felt, and the unutterable gratitude I still feel, that I am allowed to lay before you, subjects so majestic, and of such stupendous importance. The universe has appeared to us as the palace of the Deity; and, while we have surveyed nature with the eye of an astronomer, we have seen that nothing can be more splendid, more correct, or more amazing. We have beheld this universe extending infinitely every way, but still cheered and animated by the presence of the great Lord of all. We have beheld immense and shapeless masses of matter, formed into worlds by his power, and dispersed at intervals, to which even the imagination cannot travel. In this great theatre of his glory, a thousand suns, like our own, animate their respective systems, appearing and vanishing at divine command. We have seen our own bright luminary, fixed in the centre of its system, wheeling its planets in times proportioned to their distances, and at once dispensing light, heat, and action. The earth also is seen with its two-fold motion, producing by the one, the change of seasons, and by the other the grateful vicissitudes of day and night. With what silent magnificence is all this performed, with what seeming ease! The works of art are exerted with interrupted force, and their noisy progress discovers the obstructions they receive : but the earth, with a silent steady rotation, successively presents every part of her bosom to the sun, at once imbibing nourishment, and light, from that parent of vegetation and fertility. But not only are provisions of light and heat thus supplied, but its whole surface is covered with a transparent atmosphere, that turns with its motions, and guards it from external injury. The rays of the sun are thus broken into a genial warmth; and while the surface is assisted, a gentle heat is produced in the bowels of the earth, which contributes to cover it with verdure. Waters are also supplied in healthful abundance to support life, and assist vegetation. Mountains arise to diversify the prospect, and give a current to the stream. Seas extend from one continent to the other, replenished with animals, that may be turned to human support; and also serving to enrich the earth with a sufficiency of vapour. Breezes fly along the surface, to promote health and vegetation. The coolness of the evening invites to rest; and the freshness of the morning renews for labour *. Such are the delights of the habitation that has been assigned to man: without any one of these, he must have been wretched; and none of these could his own industry have furnished. But, while many of his wants are thus kindly supplied on the one hand, there are numberless inconveniencies to excite his industry on the other. This habitation, though provided with all the advantages of air, pasturage, and water, is but a desert place without human cultivation. The lower animal finds more conveniencies in the wilds of nature, than he who boasts himself their lord. The whirlwind, the inundation, and all the asperities of the air, are peculiarly terrible to man, who knows their consequences, and, at a distance, dreads their approach. The earth itself, when human art has not pervaded, puts on a gloomy appearance. The forests are dark and tangled, the meadows overgrown with rank weeds, and the brooks stray into a determined channel. Nature, that has been so kind to the lower order of beings, has been quite neglectful with regard to him; to the savage uncontriving man the earth is an *Goldsmith's Animated Nature. |