Ev'n I, the meaneft of the Muse's train, Tun'd by your hand, and fing as you inspire : 70 Like theirs, our Friendship! and I boaft my name This labour paft, of heav'nly fubjects fing, 75 From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws: 80 And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay, W. BROOME, To Mr. P O PE, On the publishing his WORKS.. E comes, he comes! bid ev'ry Bard prepare HE The fong of triumph, and attend his Car. Great Sheffield's Muse the long proceffion heads, And throws a luftre o'er the pomp fhe leads, First gives the Palm fhe fir'd him to obtain, Crowns his gay brow, and fhews him how to reign. 5 6 Thus Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught, 10 But hark what fhouts, what gath'ring crouds Unftain'd their praise by any venal voice, 20 But what are they that turn the facred page? Three lovely Virgins, and of equal age; Intent they read, and all enamour'd seem, As he that met his likeness in the stream: The GRACES thefe; and fee how they contend, Who most shall praise, who best shall recommend. The Chariot now the painful steep afcends, The Peans cease; thy glorious labour ends. Here fix'd, the bright eternal temple stands, Its profpect an unbounded view commands: Say, wondrous youth, what Column wilt thou chufe, What laurell'd Arch for thy triumphant Muse? Tho' each great Ancient court thee to his shrine, Though ev'ry Laurel thro' the dome be thine, (From the proud Epic, down to those that shade The gentler brow of the foft Lefbian maid) 30 36 Go Go to the Good and Juft, an awful train, To Mr. P OPE. From Rome, 1730. Mmortal Bard! for whom each Mufe has wove To thee from Latian realms this verfe is writ, 10 For now no more these climes their influence boast, Nor Baiæ now, nor Umbria's plain they love, 15 .20 No No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love, Has felt the worft severity of Fate: Not that Barbarian hands her Fafces broke, And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke; 25 30 That facred Wisdom from her bounds is fled, That there the fource of Science flows no more, Whence its rich ftreams fupply'd the world before. Illuftrious Names! that once in Latium fhin'd, Born to inftruct, and to command Mankind; Chiefs, by whofe Virtue mighty Rome was rais'd, And Poets, who thofe chiefs fublimely prais'd! Oft I the traces you have left explore, Your ashes vifit, and your urns adore; 10.1 45 As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I ftrow'd, While with th' infpiring Mufe my bofom glow'd, Crown'd with eternal bays my ravish'd eyes Beheld the Poet's awful Form arife: Stranger, he said, whofe pious hand has paid These grateful rites to my attentive fhade, When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air, To Pope this meffage from his Mafter bear: Great Bard, whofe numbers I myself inspire, To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, 50 If If high exalted on the Throne of Wit, 55 60 65 Of thee more worthy were the task, to raise A lafting Column to thy Country's Praise, To fing the Land, which yet alone can boaft That Liberty corrupted Rome has loft; Where Science in the arms of Peace is laid, And plants her Palm beneath the Olive's fhade. Such was the Theme for which my lyre I ftrung, Such was the People whofe exploits I fung; Brave, yet refin'd, for Arms and Arts renown'd, With diff'rent bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd, Dauntless oppofers of Tyrannic Sway, But pleas'd, a mild AUGUSTUS to obey. If these commands fubmiffive thou receive, And howl with Furies in tormenting fire; 75 GEORGE LYTTELTON, |