With other Fire his glorious Blenheim Thines, And all the Battel thunders in his Lines;

His nervous Verse great Boileau's Strength tran[fcends,

And France to Philips, as to Churchill, bends.

Oh! various Bard, you all our Pow'rs controul, You now disturb, and now divert the Soul: Milton and Butler in thy Muse combine, Above the laft thy manly Beauties shine; For as I've feen when Rival Wits contend, One gayly charge, one gravely wife defend, This on quick Turns and Points in vain relies, This with a Look demure, and steddy Eyes, With dry Rebukes, or fneering Praise replies. So thy grave Lines extort a juster Smile, Reach Butler's Fancy, but furpass his Style; He speaks Scarron's low Phrafe in humble Strains, In Thee the folemn Air of great Cervantes reigns.

1

What foundingLines his abject Themes express, What fhining Words the pompous Shilling dress? There, there my Cell, immortal made, outvies The frailer Piles which o'er its Ruins rife.

In her beft Light the Comick Muse appears,

When fhe, with borrow'd Pride, the Buskin wears.

So when Nurfe Nokes to act young Ammon tries, With fhambling Legs, long Chin, and foolish Eyes; With dangling Hands he strokes th'Imperial Robe, And, with a Cuckold's Air commands the Globe; The pomp and found the whole Buffoon display'd, And Ammon's Son more Mirth than Gomez made.

Forgive, dear Shade, the Scene my Folly draws, Thy Strains divert the Grief thy Ashes caufe: When Orpheus fings the Ghosts no more complain, But, in his lulling Mufick, lose their Pain:'

So

So charm the Sallies of thy Georgick Mufe,
So calm our Sorrows, and our Joys infufe;
Here rural Notes a gentle Mirth inspire,
Here lofty Lines the kindling Reader fire,
Like that fair Tree you praife, the Poem charms,
Cools like the Fruit, or like the Juice it warms.

Bleft Clime, which Vaga's fruitful Streams im[prove, Etruria's Envy, and her Cofmo's Love; Redstreak he quaffs beneath the Chianti Vine, Gives Tuscan yearly for thy Scud'more's Wine, And ev❜n his Tafso would exchange for thine.

Rife, rife, Roscommon, fee the Blenheim Mufe, The dull Constraint of monkish Rhyme refuse See o'er the Alps his tow'ring Pinions foar, Where never English Poet reach'd before:

See

See mighty Cofme's Counfeller and Friend,
By turns on Cofmo and the Bard attend,

Rich in the Coyns and Bufts of ancient Rome,
In him he brings a nobler Treasure home;
In them he views her Gods, and Domes defign'd,
In him the Soul of Rome, and Virgil's mighty Mind:
To him for Eafe retires from Toils of State,
Not half fo proud to govern, as tranflate.

Our Spencer, first by Pifan Poets taught, To us their Tales,their Style,and Numbers brought. To follow ours now Tufcan Bards defcend, From Philips borrow, tho' to Spencer lend, Like Philips too the Yoke of Rhyme disdain; They firft on English Bards impos'd the Chain, First by an English Bard from Rhyme their Free

[dom gain.

Tyran

Tyrannick Rhyme, that cramps to equal Chime, The gay, the foft, the florid, and fublime; Some fay this Chain the doubtful Senfe decides, Confines the Fancy, and the Judgment guides; I'm fure in needlefs Bonds it Poets tyes, Procruftes like, the Ax or Wheel applies, Tolop the mangled Senfe, or ftretch it into fize: At beft a Crutch that lifts the weak along, Supports the feeble, but retards the strong;

W

And the chance Thoughts, when govern'd by the

[clofe,

Oft rise to Fustian, or defcend to Profe.
Your Judgment,Philips, rul'd withsteddy fway,
You us❜d no curbing Rhyme, the Muse to stay,
To stop her Fury, or direct her Way.
Thee on the Wing thy uncheck'd Vigor bore,
To wanton freely, or fecurely foar.

So the ftretch'd Cord the Shackle-Dancer tries, As prone to fall, as impotent to rife;