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The temple of nature

or, the origin of society: a poem, with philosophical notes. By Erasmus Darwin

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“Alive, each moment of the transient hour,
When Rest accumulates sensorial power,

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The impatient Senses, goaded to contract,
Forge new ideas, changing as they act;
And, in long streams dissever'd, or concrete
In countless tribes, the fleeting forms repeat.
Which rise excited in Volition's trains,
Or link the sparkling rings of Fancy's chains;
Or, as they flow from each translucent source,
Pursue Association's endless course.
“Hence when the inquiring hands with contact fine
Trace on hard forms the circumscribing line;
Which then the language of the rolling eyes
From distant scenes of earth and heaven supplies;
Those clear ideas of the touch and sight
Rouse the quick sense to anguish or delight;
Whence the fine power of Imitation springs,
And apes the outlines of external things;
With ceaseless action to the world imparts
All moral virtues, languages, and arts.

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First the charm'd Mind mechanic powers collects,
Means for some end, and causes of effects;
Then learns from other Minds their joys and fears,
Contagious smiles and sympathetic tears.
“What one fine stimulated Sense discerns,
Another Sense by Imitation learns.—
So in the graceful dance the step sublime
Learns from the ear the concordance of Time.
So, when the pen of some young artist prints
Recumbent Nymphs in Titian's living tints;
The glowing limb, fair cheek, and flowing hair,
Respiring bosom, and seductive air,

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He justly copies with enamour'd sigh
From Beauty's image pictured on his eye.
“Thus when great Angelo in wondering Rome
Fix'd the vast pillars of Saint Peter's dome,
Rear'd rocks on rocks sublime, and hung on high
A new Pantheon in the affrighted sky.
Each massy pier, now join'd and now aloof,
The figured architraves, and vaulted roof,

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Ailes, whose broad curves gigantic ribs sustain,
Where holy echoes chant the adoring strain;
The central altar, sacred to the Lord,
Admired by Sages, and by Saints ador'd,
Whose brazen canopy ascends sublime
On spiral columns unafraid of Time,
Were first by Fancy in ethereal dyes
Plann'd on the rolling tablets of his eyes;
And his true hand with imitation fine
Traced from his Retina the grand design.
“The Muse of Mimicry in every age
With silent language charms the attentive stage;

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The Monarch's stately step, and tragic pause,
The Hero bleeding in his country's cause,
O'er her fond child the dying Mother's tears,
The Lover's ardor, and the Virgin's fears;
The tittering Nymph, that tries her comic task,
Bounds on the scene, and peeps behind her mask,
The Punch and Harlequin, and graver throng,
That shake the theatre with dance and song,
With endless trains of Angers, Loves, and Mirths,
Owe to the Muse of Mimicry their births.
“Hence to clear images of form belong
The sculptor's statue, and the poet's song,
The painter's landscape, and the builder's plan,
And Imitation marks the mind of Man.