"Fallacious and obscure the lore, By Stoick sages taught of yore: From outward objects they suppose A filmy substance ceaseless flows, Which strikes acute upon the sense, And that all knowledge issues thence. Hence, say they, Mind alone receives Every image it perceives; The paper, thus, a blank before, They add, is trac'd with letters o'er. If nothing to the mind is known By powers inherent of her own, But passive, she th' impressions takes, Which every outward object makes; Reflecting like a mirror fair, All bodies that presented are; Say, whence deriv'd her power to pierce Thro' all th' extended Universe? To roam the world material o'er. And intellectual too explore; Whence does she arrange, compound, And sep'rate her ideal round? Why does she, by progression slow, From truth to truth ascending go? Why now to heav'n her way she wings. Now sinks absorb'd in grov'ling things? Such powers, so various and so strong, Must to the heav'n-born mind belong: They cannot, sure, existence owe To traces which from matter flow. But still, 'twixt matter and the mind We plainly a connexion find: Thus—light when flashing in the eye, Thus—thro' the ear when noises fly. Mind instantaneous running o'er, Of native ideas, her store, Th' according images unites, And blends with those which sense excites For each external form, we find, Its counterpart has in the mind."