A phantom found, by which the cunning great
Whistle to their dependents: a decoy

To gull th' unwary, where the master stands
Encouraging his minions, his train'd birds,
Fed and carefs'd their species to betray.

See with what hollow blandishment and art
They lead the winged captive to the fnare!
Fools! that in open æther might have foar'd,
Free as the air they cut; fip'd pureft rills,

Din'd with the Thames, or bath'd in crystal lakes.
We wear no badges, no dependence own:
Who truly loves thee, deareft Liberty,
A filken fetter will uneafy fit.

Heav'n knows it is not Infolence that speaks!
The tribute of respect to greatnefs due
Not the brib'd fycophant more willing pays.
Still, ftill as much of party be retain’d,
As principle requires, and fenfe directs:
Elfe our vain bark, without a rudder, floats
The scorn and pastime of each veering gale.
This gentle ev'ning let the fun defcend
Untroubled, while it paints your ambient hills
With faded luftre, and a sweet farewel.

Here is our feat: that caftle oppofite,

Proud

Proud of its woody brow, adorns the scene.
Dictate, O vers'd in books, and just of taste,
Dictate the pleasing theme of our discourse.
Shall we trace Science from her Eastern home
Chaldæan; or the banks of Nile, where Thebes,
Nurfing her daughter arts, majestic stood,

And pour'd forth knowledge from an hundred gates?
There first the marble learn'd to mimic life,
The pillar'd temple rofe, and pyramids,
Whofe undecaying grandeur laughs at Times
Birth-place of letters, where the fun was shewn
His radiant way, and heav'ns were taught to roll.
There too the Mufes tun'd their earliest lyre,
Warbling foft numbers to Serapis' ear;

'Till chac'd by tyrants, or a milder clime
Inviting, they remov'd with pilgrim harps,
And all their band of harmony to Greece.
As when a flock of linnets, if perchance
Deliver'd from the falcon's talon, fly
With trembling wing to cover, and renew

Their notes; tell every bufh of their escape,
And thrill their merry thanks to Liberty.
The tuneful tribe, pleas'd with their new abode,
Polifh'd the rude inhabitants, whence tales

of

Of lift'ning woods, and rocks that danc'd to found.
Hear the full chorus lifting hymns to Jove!
Linus and Orpheus catch the strain, and all
The raptur'd audience utter loud applaufe.
A fong, believe me, was no trifle then :
Weighty the Muse's task, and wide her sway :
Her's was religion, the refounding fanes
Echo'd her language; polity was her's,

And the world bow'd to legislative verse.

As ftates increas'd, and governments were form'd,

Her aid less useful, fhe retir'd to grots

And fhady bow'rs, content to teach and please.
Under her laurel frequent bards repos'd;
Voluble Pindar troll'd his rapid fong,
Or Sappho breath'd her spirited complaint:
Here the stage bufkin, there the lyric choir,
And Homer's epic trumpet. Happy Greece,
Blefs'd in her offspring! Seat of eloquence,
Of arts and reafon; patriot-virtue's feat!
Did the fun thither dart uncommon rays!
Did fome prefiding genius hover o'er
That animated foil with brooding wings!
The fad reverse might start a gentle tear
Go, fearch in Athens for herfelf, enquire

Where

Where are her orators, her fages now:
Her arsenal overturn'd, her walls in duft,
But far lefs ruin'd than her foul decay'd.
The ftone infcrib'd to Socrates, debas'd
To prop a reeling cot: Minerva's fhrine
Poffefs'd by those who never heard her name.
Upon the mount where old Mufæus fung,
Sits the grim turban'd captain, and exacts
Harsh tribute; on the spot where Plato taught
His heav'nly strains fublime, a ftupid Turk
Is preaching ignorance and Mahomet.

Turn next to Rome: is that the clime, the place,
Where once, as Fame reports, Auguftus liv'd?
What magic has transform'd her, fhrunk her nerves?

A wither'd laurel, and a mould'ring arch!

Could the pure crimfon tide, the nobleft blood

That ever flow'd, to fuch a puddle turn?

She ends, like her long Appian, in a marsh
Or Jordan's river pouring his clear urn
Into the black Afphaltus' flimy lap.

Patrons of wit, and victors of mankind,

Bards, warriors, worthies (revolution strange)
Are pimps and fidlers, mountebanks and monks.
In Tully's bee-hive, magazine of sweets,

The

The lazy drones are buzzing or asleep.

But we forgive the living for the dead;
Indebted more to Rome than we can pay.
Of a long dearth prophetic, fhe lay'd in
A feaft for ages.
O thou banquet nice,

Where the foul riots with fecure excess !
What felt delight! what pleasing useful hours
Repeated owe we to her letter'd fons!..

We by their favour Tiber's walks enjoy,

4

Their temples trace, and share their noble games;
Enter the crowded theatre at will,

4

Go to the forum, hear the conful plead,
Are present in the thund'ring Capitol
When Tully speaks; at fofter hours attend
Harmonious Virgil to his Mantuan farm,
Or Baian; and with happy Horace talk
In myrtle groves by Teverone's cascade.
Hail, precious pages! that amuse and teach,
Exalt the genius, and improve the breast.
Ye fage hiftorians all your stores unfold,
Reach your clear steady mirror
clear steady mirror — in that glass
The forms of good and ill are well portray'd.
But chiefly thou, divine Philofophy,

Shed thy blefs'd influence, with thy train appear

Of