“ ‘Time was when we were sow’d, and just began To show the promise of a future man: Then nature’s hand (fermented as it was) Moulded to shape the soft coagulated mass; And when the little man was fully form’d, The breathless embryo with a spirit warm’d; But when the mother’s throes begin to come, The creature, pent within the narrow room, Breaks his blind prison, pushing to repair His stifled breath, and draw the living air; Cast on the margin of the world he lies, A helpless babe, but by instinct he cries. He next essays to walk, but downward press’d On four feet imitates his brother beast: By slow degrees he gathers from the ground His legs, and to the rolling chair is bound; Then walks alone; a horseman now become, He rides a stick, and travels round the room. In time he vaunts among his youthful peers; Strong boned, and strung with nerves, in pride of years, He runs with mettle his first merry stage, Maintains the next, abated of his rage, But manages his strength, and spares his age.