Plenty and gladnefs mark'd the pricft of God,
And fudden almonds fhot from Aaron's rod.
O thou, from whom thefe boun eous bleffings flow,
To whom as chicf the hopes of peace we owe,
(For next to thee, the man whom kings contend
To le companio, and to make their friend,
Great S rafford, rich in every courtly grace,
With joyful pride accepts the fecond place)
From Britain's ifle, and fis' facred fpring,
One hour, oh! liften while the Mufes fing.
Though minifters of mighty monarchs wait,
With beating hearts to learn their masters fate,
One hour forbear to fpeak thy queen's commands,
Nor think the world, thy charge neglected ftands;
The blitsful profpe&s, in my veríe display d,
May lure the ftubborn, the deceiv'd perfuade:
Ev'n thou to peace fha't peedier urge the way,
And more be haften d by this short delay.
ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.
THE haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o'er-
thrown,
Now ceas'd to think the western world his own.
Oft had he mourn'd his boafting leaders bound,
And his proud bulwarks fmoking on the ground:
In vain with powers renew'd he fill'd the plain.
Made timorous vows, and brib'd the faints in vain;
As oft his legions did the fight decline,
Lurk'd in the trench, and skulk d beh nd the line.
Before his eyes the fancied javelin gleams,
At feafts he arts, and fems dethron'd in dreams;
On glory paft reflects with facred pain
On mines exhausted, and on millions flain.
To Britains Queen the scepter d fuppliant
bends,
To her his crowns and infant race commends, Who grieves her fame with Chriftian blood to buy, Nor afks for glory at a price fo high. At her decree the war fufpended stands, And Briton's heroes hold their lifted hands, Their open brows no threatening frowns difguife, But gentler paffions fparkle in their eyes. The Gauls, who never in their courts could find Such temper'd fire with manly beauty join'd, Doubt if they're those, whom dreadful to the view In forms fo fierce their fearful fancies drew; At whofe dire names ten thousand widows preft Their helpless orphans clinging to the breast. In filent raptur: each his foe furveys; They vow firm friendship, and give mutual praife. Br. ye m nds, howe'er at war, are fecret friends; Their generous difcord with the battle ends; In peace they wonder whence diflenfion rofe, And ask how fouls fo like could e'er be foes. Methinks I hear more friendly fhouts rebound, And focial clarions mix their fprightly found The British flags are furl'd her troops disband, And scatter'd armies feek their native land. The hardy veteran, prond of many a fear, The manly charms and honours of the war, Who hop'd to share his friend s illuflrious doom And in the battle find a foldier's tomb, Leans on his fpear to take his farewell view, And fighing bids the glorious camp adieu.
Ye generous fair, receive the brave with fmiles, O'er pav their fleepless nights, and crown their toils;
Soft beauty is the gallant foldier's due,
For you they conquer. and they bleed for you.
In vain proud Caul with boaftful Spain conspires,
hen English valour Englith beauty fires;
The nations read your eyes, and kings defpair
Of chiefs fo brave, till they have nymphs to fair.
See the food wife, in ears of transport drown'd,
Hugs her rough lord, and weeps o'r every
wound,
Hangs on the lips that fields of blood relate,
And fmils, or trembles, at his various fate.
Near the full bowl he draws the fancy'd line,
And marks feign'd trenches in the flowing wine,
Thn fets th'invefted fart before his eyes
And mines, that whir 'd bat alions to the skies:
Hs little liftening progeny turn pale,
And beg again to hear the dreadful tale.
Such dire atchievements fings the bard, that tells Of palfrey d dames, bo'd knights and magic fpels, Where whole brigades one champion's arms o'erthrow,
And cleave a giant at a random blow,
Slay paynims vile, that force the fair, and tame
The goblin's fu: y, and the d agon's flanie.
Our eager youth to diftant nations run,
To visit fields, their valiant fathers won;
From Flandria's fhore their country's fame they
Till far Germania fhews her blafted face.
Th exulting Brit n afk, his mournful guide,
Where his hard fate the lolt Bavaria try'd:
Where Stepney gravd the stone to Anna's fame,
He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name;
Here fled the Houfhold, there did Tallard yield,
Here arlborough turn'd he fortune of the field,
On thefe fleep banks, near Danube s raging flood:
The Gauls thrice started back,and trembling flood:
When, Churchill's arm perceiv'd, they flood not
long,
But plunged amidst the waves, a defperate throng,
Crowds whelm'd on crowds dafh'd wide the wa
And drove the current to its diftant head.
As when by Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands A warlike courfer on the canvas ftands, Such as on Landen bleeding Ormond bore, Orfet young Ammon on the Granic fhore; If chance a generous fteed the work behold, He fnorts, he neighs, he champs the foamy gold: So, Hocftet feen, tumultuous paffions roll, And hints of glory fire the Briton's foul, In fancy'd fights he fees the troops engage, And all the tempefts of the battle rage.
Charme, ye powers, with fcenes lefs nobly bright,
Far humbler thoughts th’inglorious Muse delight,
Content to fee the honours of the field
By plou h-fhares levell'd, or in flowers conceal d.
O'er shatter'd walls may creeping ivy twine,
And grafs luxuriant clothe the harmless mine.
Tame flocks afcend the breach without a wound,
Or crop the bastion, now a fruitful ground;
While fhepherds rep, along the rampard laid,
Or pipe beneath the formidable fhade.
Who was the man? Oblivion blaft his name,
Torn out, and blotted from the lift of fame!
Who, fond of lawless rule, and proudly brave,
Erft funk the filial fubject to a flave,
His neighbour s realms by frauds unkingly gain'd, in guiltlefs blood the facred ermine ftain d,
Laid fchemes for death, to laughter turn'd his heart,
And fitted murder to the rules of art.
Ah! curt ambition, to thy lures we owe
All the great ills, that mortals bear below.
Curt by the bind, when to the fpoil he yields
His year's whole fweat, and vainly ripen'd fields;
Curft by the maid. torn from her lover's fide.
When lift a widow though not yet a bride';
Ey mothers curft, when floods of tears they thed,
And fatter ufelefs rafes on the dead.
Ch. Sacred Brifol! then, what dangers prove
Tre arts, thou frail'ft on with paternal love?
Then, mixt with rubbish by the brutal foes,
In the marble breath's, the canvas glows;
To des obfcure he glittering fword puriues
The gentle poet, and defencelets Mule.
A voice like thine, alone, might then affwage
The warrior's tury, and contro! his rige;
To hear thee fpeak, might the fierce Vandal stand,
And fling the brandifh'd fabre from his hand.
Far hence he drives to Scythia's ftormy fhore
The drum's harfh mufe, and the canon's roar;
Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain,
Where Fartar clans and grizly Coffacks reign;
Let the ftecl'd Turk be deaf to matrons' cries,
Se virgins ravifh'd with relentlefs cyes,
To death grey heads and imiling infants doom,
Nerfpare the promife of the pregnant womb,
O'er watted kingdoms fpread his wide command,
The lavage lord of an unpeopled land.
Her guiltlets glory juil Britannia draws,
From pure religion, and impartial laws,
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Europe's wounds a mother's aid he brings,
And holds in equal fcales the rival kings:
Her generous fons in choiceft gifts abound,
Alike in arms, alike in arts renown'd.
As when fweet Venus fo the fable fings)
Awak'd by Nereids, from the ocean fprings,
ith fmiles the fees the threatening billows rife, Spread fmooth the furge, and clears the louring fkies.
Light o'erthedeep,withfluttering cupidscrown'd
The pearly couch and filver turtles bound;
Her treffes the ambrofial odours round.
midit the world of waves fo ftands ferene
Britannia's ifle, the ocean's fatey queen;
In van the nations have confpir'd her fall,
Her trench the fea, and fleets her floating wall:
Defencelcfs barks, her powerful navy near,
Hive only waves and hurricanes to fear.
What bold invader, or what land opprest,
Hath not her anger quell'd, her aid redrest!
bay, where have e'er her union croffes tail'd,
But much her arms, her juice more prevail'd'
Her labourse, to plead th' Almighty's caufe,
Her pride, to teach th' untam'd barbarian laws:
Who conquers wins by brutal ftrength the prize;
But 'tis a godlike work to civilize.
great
Have we forgot how from
The king, whole power half Europe's regions own,
Whofe fceptre waving with one hout rush forth
In fwarms the hernefs'd millions of the north,
Through realms of ice purfued his tedious way
o court our friendship, and our fame furvey!
Hence the rich prize of ufeful arts he bore,
And round his empire fpread the learned ftore:
(l'adorn old realms is more than new to raile,
His country s parent is a monarch's praife.)
His bands now march in just array to war,
And Cafpian gu phs unufuai navies bear;
With Runick lays Smolenfko's forefts ring,
And wondering Volga hears the Mufes fing.
id not the painted kings of India greet
Our Queen, and lay their fceptres at her feet?
Chiefs who full bowls of hoftile blood had quaff'd,
Fan'd for the javelin, and invenom'd fhaft,
Whofe haughty brows made avages adore,
Nor bow'd to lefs than itars or fun before.
Her pitying fmile accepts their fuppliant claim,
nd adds four monarchs to the Chriftian name.
Elect ufe of power! O virtuous pride inkings!
And like his bounty, whence dominion fprings!
Which o'er new worlds makes heaven's indal-
gence shine,
And ranges myriads under laws divine.
Well bought with all that thofe fweet regionshold,
With groves of fpices, and with mines of gold,
Fearless our merchant now purlucs his gain,
And roams fecurely o'er the boundlefs main.
Now o'er his head the polar bear he fpies,
And freezing fpangles of the Lapland skies;
Now fwells his canvas to the fultry line,
With glittering fpoils where Indian grottos fhine,
Where fumes of ince fe glad the fouthern feas,
And wafted citron feents the balmy breeze.
Here nearer funs prepare the ripening gem,
To grace great Anne's imperial diadem,
And here the ore, whofe melted mafs fhall yield
On faithful coins each memorable field,
Which, mix'd with medals of immortal Rome,
May clear difputes, and teach the times to come.
In circling beams fhall godlike Anna glow,
And Churchill's word hang o er the proftrate foe;
In comely wounds fall bleeding worthies fland,
Webb's firm platoon and Lumley's faithful band,
Bold Mordaunt in Iberian trophies dreft,
And Campbell's dragon on his d-untle's breast,
Great Ormords deeds on Vigo's fpoils enroll'd,
And Guifcard s knife on Harley's Chili gold.
And f the Mufe, O Erifto might decree,
Here Granville noted by the lyre fhould be
he lyre for Gr nville, and the cro's for thee.
Suh are the honours grateful Britain pays;
So patriots merit, and fo monarchs praile.
O'r difant times fuch records fhall ir vaii,
When English numbers autiquated, fail;
A trifling fong the Mufe an only yield,
And footh her foldiers panting from the field.
o fweet retirements fee them fafe convey'd,
And raife their battles in the rurai fhade.
From fields of death to Woodstock's peaceful glooms,
(The post s haunt) Britannia's hero comes-
Begin, my Mufe, and foft touch the Big:
Here Henry lov'd; and Chaucer learn'd t fing.
Hail, fabled grotto! hal Elyfian foil!
Thou faireft fpot of fai Britannia - if !
Whe e kings of old conceal'd, forgot the throne,
And beauty was content to fhine unknown;
Where love and war by turns pavilions rear,
And Henry's bowers near Blenheim's dome ap-
pear;
The weary d champion lul' in foft alcoves,
The dobleft boaft of thy rom-ntic
Oft, if the Mufe prefage, fhall he be seen
By Rofamanda fleeting o er the green,
In dreams be hail d by heroes mighty fhades,
And hear old Chaucer warble through the glades,
O'er the fam'd echoing vaults his name fhall
bound,
And hill to hill reflect the favourite found.
Here, here at least thy love for arms give o'er, Nor, one world conquer'd, fondly with for more. Vice of great fouls alone! O thirst of fame!
The Mufe admires it, while the ftrives to blame.
Thy toils be now to chace the bounding deer,
Or view the courfers ftretch in wild career.
This lovely fcene fhall footh thy foul to reft,
And wear each dreadful image from thy breaft.
With pleasure, by thy conquefts fhalt thou fee
Thy queen triumphant, and all Europe free.
No cares henceforth fhall thy repofe destroy,
But what thou giv'it the world, thyfelf enjoy.
Sweet Solitude! when life's gay hours are past,
Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at laft:
Toft through tempeftuous feas (the voyage'o'er)
Pale we look back, and blefs thy friendly fhore.
Our own strict judges our past lives we scan,
And afk if glory hath enlarg'd the span :
If bright the profpect, we the grave defy,
Truft future ages, and contented die.
So, in the painter's animated frame, Where Mars embraces the foft Pathian dame, The little Loves in fport his fau chion wield, Or join their rength to hech's ponderon fhild One rokes the plume in T tyou's gore embrud, And or ethefphere that re kwth fyph n' bed Another's infant brow- helm fuain
He nods his crest, and frights the bricking tra
hus. the ude tempeft of the fild o'r blows Sh Il whiter rounds of finiling years rol on, Our vetors, b eft in pesce, forget heir wars, Enjoy p ft dan ers, and bfolve the stars. But, oh! what forrows fhall bedew your urns, Ye-Lonour d fhades, whom widow daling
If yourt in forms yet difcontented moan, And haunt the mangled manfions once your cu; Behold what flowers the pious Mules ftrow, And tears, which in the midt of triumph flow; Cyprefs and Days your envy'd brows furround Your names the tender matro's heart fhall wound.
And the foft maiden grow penfive at the found Accept, great Anne, the tears their memoff draws.
Who nobly perifh'd in their fovereign's caufe:
For thou in pity bid'at the war give o'er,
Mourn'ft thy flain heroes, nor wilt venture more
Vail price of blood on cach victorious day!
(But Europe's freedom doth that price repay.)
Lamented triumphs! when one breath mult tell
That Marlborough conquer d, and that Dora
fell.
Great Queen! whofe name flrikes haughty
On whofe juft fceptre hangs Europa's fcale,
Whofe arm like mercy wounds, decides like fa
On whofe decree the nations anxious wait:
From Albion's cliffs thy wide-extended hand
Shall o'er the main to far Peru command;
So vaft a tract whofe wide domain fhall run,
When frangers from far diftant climes fhall Its circling skies fhall fee no fetting fun.
Fair dames fhall oft, with curious eye, explore
The coft y robes that flaughter'd generals wore,
Rich trappings from the Danube's whirpools
brought,
(Hefperian nuns the gorgeous broidery wrought
Belts tiff with gold, the Bojan horseman's pride,
Add Gaul's fair flowers, in human crimfon dy'd.
Of Churchill's race perhaps fome lovely boy
Shall mark the burnih'd feel that hangs on high,
Shail aze tranfported on its glitte ing charms,
And rea hit ftruggling with unequal arms;
By @gns the drum's tumultuous found request,
Then feek, in ftarts, the hufhing mother's breaft.
Thee, thee an hundred languages fhall claim, And favage Indians fwear by Anna's name; The lines and poles fhal own thy rightful fwa And thy commands the fever d globe obey,
Round the vast ball thy new dominions chai
The watery kingdoms, and control the main;
Magellan's ftraits to Gibraltar they join,
Across the feas a formidable line;
The fight of adverfe Gaul we fear no more,
But pleas'd fee Dunkirk, now a guiltless fhore;
In vain great Neptune tore the narrow ground
And meant his waters for Britannia's bound;
Her giant genius takes a mighty tride,
And Tets his foot beyond th incroaching tide;
On either bank the land its niafter knows,
And in the midft the fubject ocean flows
So near proud Rhodes, across the r-ging
flood
Stupendous form! he vaft Coloffus flood,
While at their foot their thronging gallies ride,
A whole hour's fail fearce reach the further fide)
Betwix: his brazen thighs, in loofe array,
Ten thousand ftreamers on the billows play.
By Harley's counfels Dunkirk now refter d To Britain's empi.e, owns her ancient lord.
him transfus'd his godlike father reigns,
Fichin the blood which fwell'd that patriot's veins,
Who boldly faithful met his fovereign's frown,
And fcornd for gold to yield th' important town.
His fon was born the ravifh d prey to claim,
And france ftill trembles at an Harley's name.
A fort to dreadful to our nglifh fhore,
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Our fe tsfcarce Fear' the fands or tempefts mort,
Whofe valt exp nces to fuch fums amount,
That the tax'd Gaul fè rce furnish'd out th' ac-
court,
Whofe wills fuch bulwarks, fuch vaft towers re-
ftrain
Its weakest ramparts are the rocks and main,
His boat great Louis yields, and cheaply buys
Thy frie dihip, Anna, with the mighty prize.
Holland repining, and in grief caft down,
Sets the new glories of the British crown :
Ah! may they ne er provoke thee to the fight,
Nor foes, more dreadful than the Gaul, invite.
So may they hold the olive, foon affwage
heit fecret murmurs, nor call forth thy rage To rend their banks, and pour, at one comm nd, Thy realm, the fea, o'er their precarious land.
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Henceforth be thine, vice-gerent of the skies.
Stern'dworth to raife, and vice in robes chaft fe,
To dry th orphan's tear, and from the bar
Chace ve br b'd judge, and hush the wordy war,
Deny the curft blafphemer's tongue to rage,
And turn God's fury from an impious age.
Bleft change! the foldier's late deftroying hand
Shall rear new temples in his native land;
Mitaken zealots fhall with fear behold,
And beg admittance in our facred fold;
On her own works the pious queen fhall fmile,
And turn her cares upon her favourite isle.
bo the keen bolt a warrior angel aims,
Array'd in clouds, and wrapt in mantling flames;
He bears a tempeit on his founding wings,
And his red arm the forky vengeance flings;
At length, heaven's wrath appeas'd he quitsthe war,
To roll his orb, and guide his deftin'd ftar,
To hed kind fate, and lucky hours bestow,
And file propitious on the world below.
Around thy throne th H faithiul nobles wait,
Thefe guard the church, and thofe direct the state.
To Brittol, graceful in maternal tears,
The church her towery forehead gently rears;
She begs her pious fon t' affert her caufe,
Defend her rights, and reinforce her laws,
With holy zeal the facred work begin,
10 bend the stubborn, and the meek to win.
Our Oxford's earl in careful thought fhall ftand,
To raife his queen, and fave a finking land.
The wealthielt glebe to ravenous Spaniards known
He marks, and makes the golden world our own,
Content with hands unfoil'd to guard the prize,
And keep the ftore with undefiring eyes.
So round the tree that bore Hefperian gold,
The facred watch lay curl d in many a fold,
His eyes up-rearing to th untatted prey,
The fleeplef, guardian wafted life away.
Beneath the peaceful olive, rais'd by you,
Her ancient pride thall every heart renew,
(The arts which you fam'd Harcourt fhall defend,
And courtly Bolingbroke the Mufe's fiend.)
With piercing eye fome fearch where natureplays,
And trace the wanton through her dark on emaze,
Whence health from herbs; from feeds how
groves begun,
How vital ftreams in circling eddies run
Some teach why round thefu.. the fpheres advance,
In the fix'd measures of the r myftic dance,
How tides, when heav'd by preffing moons, o'er-
flow,
And fun-born ris paints her fhowery bow.
In happy chains our darling language bound,
Shali fport no more in arbitrary f und
But buikin'd bards henceforth fhall wifely rage,
And Grecian plans reform Britannia's flage:
ill Congreve bids her fmile, Augufta ftands
And longs to weep when flowing Rowe commands.
Britain's Spectators fhall their frength combine
To mend our morals, and our tafte refine,
Fight virtue s caute, ftand up in wit's defence,
Win us from vice, and laugh us into fenfe.
Nor, Prior, haft thou hufh'd the trump in vain,
Thy lyre fhall now revive her mirthful train,
New tales fhall now be told; if right I fee,
The foul of Chaucer is reftor'd in thee,
Garth, in majestic numbers, to the stars
Shall raife mock heroes, and fantastic wars;
Like the young spreading laurel, Pope, thy name
Shoots up with strength, and rifes into fame;
With Philips fhall the peaceful vallies ring,
And Britain hear a fecond Spenfer fing.
That much-lovd youth, whom Utrecht's walls
confine,
To Bristol's praifes fhall his Strafford's join:
He too, from whom attentive Oxford draws
Rules for just thinking, and poetic laws,
To growing bards his learned aid fhall lend,
The ftricket critic, and the kindest friend.
Ev'n mine, a bashful Mufe, whofe rude eflays
Scarce hope for pardon, not afpire to prai'e,
Cherifh doy you in time may grow to fame
And mine furvive with Bristol's glorious name.
Fir'd with the views this glittering scene dif-
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TO MR. ADDISON, ON HIS OPERA
"Sit tibi Mufa lyra folers, & cantor Apollo."
THE Opera firft Italian maffers taught.
Inrich'd with fongs, but innocent of thought; Britannia's learned theatre difdains Melodious trifles and enervative strains; And blushes, on her injur'd ftage to fee Nonfenfe well-tun'd, and fweet fupidity.
No charms are wanting to thy artful fong,
Soft as Corelli, and as irgil ftrong.
From words fo fwcet new grace the notes receive,
And music borrows helps, fhe us'd to give.
The ftyle hath match'd what ancient Romans
knew,
Thy flowing numbers far excel the new.
Their cadence in fuch eafy found convey'd,
The height of thought may feem fuperfluous aid ;
Yet in fuch charms the noble thoughts abound,
That needlefs feem the fweets of eafy found.
Landfkips how gay the bowery grotto yields,
Which thought creates, and lavish fancy builds!
What art can trace the vifionary fcenes,
The flowery groves, and everlafting greens,
The babbling founds that mimic echo plays,
The fry fhade and its eternal maze?
Nature and Art in all their charms combin'd,
And all lyfium to one view confin'd!
No further could imagination roam.
Till Vanbrugh fran'd, and Marlborough rais'd
the dome.
Ten thoufand pangs my auxious bofom tear, When drown'd in tears I fee th' imploring fair; When bards lefs foft the moving words fupply, A feeming juftice dooms the nymph to die; But here the begs, nor can she beg in vain, (In dirges thus expiring fwans complain); Each verfe fo fwells expreflive of her woes, And every tear in lines fo mournful flows; We, fpite of fame her fate revers'd believe, O'erlook her crimes, and think fhe ought to live. Let joy falute fair Rofamanda's fhade, And wreathes of myrtle crown the lovely maid. While now perhaps with Dido's ghoft the roves, And hears and tells the story of their loves, Alike they mourn alike they blefs their fate, Since love, w ich made them wretched, makes
Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan,
Which gain'd a Virgil, and an Addison.
Accept, great monarch of the Briti lays,
The tribute long an humble fubje& pays.
fo tries the artlefs lark her early fight,
And foars, to hail the god of verfe and light.
Unrival'd as unmatch'd be still thy f me,
And thy own laurels fhade thy envy'd name .
Thy name, the boast of all the tuneful quire,
Shall tremble on the ftrings of every lyre;
While the charm'd reader with thy thought
complies,
Feels corresponding joys or forrows rife,
And views thy Rofamond with Henry's eyes.
00 long hath love engrofs'd Britannia's stage,
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And funk to foftnefs all our tragic rage:
Ly that alone did empires fall or rife,
And fate depended on a fair one's eyes:
The fweet infection, mixt with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it footh'd the heart.
Y u fcorn to raise a grief thyself mus blame,
Nor from our weaknefs feal a vulgar fame :
A patriot's fall may jufly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, fhed for all mankind.
How do our fouls with generous pleafure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero flands beneath the weight
Of all his fufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains ftill fheltering by his fide,
With confcious virtue, and becoming pride!
The aged oak thus rears his head in air, His fap exhaufted and his branches bare; 'Midit forms and earthquakes he maintains his state,
Fixt deep in earth, and faflen'd by his weight: His naked boughs ftill lend the fhepherds aid, And his old trunk projects an awful shade.
Amidft the joys triumphant peace bestows, Our patriots fadden at his glorious woes; Awhile they let the world's great business wait, Anxious for Rome, and figh for Cato's fate. Here taught how ancient heroes rose to fame. Our Briton s crowd, and catch the Roman fiame, Where ftetes and fenates we I might lend an ear, And kings and priests without a blush appear.
France boafts no more but, fearful to engage, Now firft pays homage to her rival's ftage, Haftes to learn thee, and learning fhall fubmit Alike to British arms and British wit: No more fhell wonder, forc'd to do us right, Who think like Romans, could like Remansfight.
Thy Oxford fmiles this glorious work to let, And fondly triumphs in a fon like thee.
he fenates, confuls, and the gods of Rome, Like old acquaintance at their native home, In thee we find; each deed, each word expreft, An every thought that fwell'd a Roman breaft, We trace cach nint that could thy foul infpire With Virgi's judgment, and with Lucan's fire; We know thy worth, and, give us leave to boat, We most admire, because we know thee mofl.
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