And the rafh fool who fcorn'd the beaten road
Dares quake at thunder and confefs his God.

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The brainless stripling who expell'd the Town Damn'd the stiff college and pedantick gown, Aw'd by thy name is dumb, and thrice a-week Spells uncouth Latin and pretends to Greek. A faunt'ring tribe! fuch born to wide estates With Yea and No in fenates hold debates; At length defpis'd each to his fields retires, First with the dogs, and king amidst the fquires; 30 From pert to ftupid finks fupinely down,

In youth a coxcomb and in age a clown.

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Such readers fcorn'd, thou wingft thy daring flight Above the stars and treadft the fields of light: Fame heav'n and hell are thy exalted theme, And vifions fuch as Jove himfelf might dream; Man funk to flavery tho' to glory born, Heav'n's pride when upright, and deprav'd his fcorn. Such hints alone could British Virgil lend,

And thou alone deferve from fuch a friend:
A debt fo borrow'd is illuftrious fhame,

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And fame when fhar'd with him is double fame.
So flush'd with fweets by Beauty's queen bestow'd
With more than mortal charms Æneas glow'd;
Such gen'rous ftrifes Eugene and Marlb'rough try,
And as in glory fo in friendship vie.

46 Permit thefe Lines by thee to live-nor blame A Mufe that pants and languifhes for fame,

That fears to fink when humbler themes fhe fings, Loft in the mafs of mean forgotten things. Receiv'd by thee I prophefy my Rhymes

The praife of virgins in fucceeding times:

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Mix'd with thy works their life no bounds shall fee, But stand protected as infpir'd by thee.

So fome weak shoot which elfe would poorly rise Jove's tree adopts, and lifts him to the fkies; Thro' the new pupil foft'ring juices flow,

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Thruft forth the gems and give the flow'rs to blow; Aloft, immortal reigns the plant unknown

With borrow'd life and vigour not his own.

TO MR. ADDISON,

ON HIS OPERA OF ROSAMOND.

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THE Opera first Italian mafters taught,
Enrich'd with fongs, but innocent of thought:
Britannia's learned theatre difdains

Melodious trifles and enervate strains,
And blushes on her injur'd ftage to fee
Nonfenfe well tun'd and fweet ftupidity.
No charms are wanting to thy artful fong,
Soft as Corelli and as Virgil strong:

5

From words fo fweet new grace the notes receive, And Mufick borrows helps the us'd to give.

ΙΟ

Thy style 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 seem fuperfl'ous aid;
Yet in fuch charms the noble thoughts abound
That needlefs feem the fweets of eafy found.

Landscapes how gay the bow'ry grotto yields
Which Thought creates and lavish Fancy builds!
What art can trace the vifionary fcenes,
The flow'ry groves and everlasting greens,
The babbling founds that mimick Echo plays,
The Fairy fhade and its eternal maze?
Nature and Art in all their charms combin'd,
And all Elyfium to one view confin'd!

No further could imagination roam

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Till Vanbrugfram'dand Marlb'rough rais'd the dome.
Ten thousand pangs my anxious 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 fhe begs, nor can fhe beg in vain,

In dirges thus expiring fwans complain;)
Each verfe fo fwells expreffive of her woes,
And ev'ry 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.

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Let joy falute fair Rofamonda's shade, And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid, While now perhaps with Dido's ghoft fhe roves, And hears and tells the story of their loves, Alike they mourn, alike they bless their fate, Since love which made them wretched makes them Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan Which gain'd a Virgil and an Addison.”

[great,

Accept, great Monarch of the British lays! The tribute fong an humble fubject pays; So tries the artiefs lark her early flight, And foars to hail the god of Verfe and Light. Unrivall'd as unmatch'd be ftill thy fame, And thy own laurels fhade thy envy'd name! Thy name, the boaft of all the tuneful quire, Shall tremble on the ftrings of ev'ry lyre While the charm'd reader with thy thought comFeels correfponding joys or forrows rife,

[plies, And views thy Rofamond with Henry's eyes. 55.

TO THE SAME,

ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO.

Too long hath love engrofs'd Britannia's stage,
And funk to foftness all our tragick rage;
By that alone did empires fall or rise,
And fate depended on a fair one's eyes:

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The fweet infection mixt with dang'rous art
Debas'd our manhood while it footh'd the heart :
You fcorn to raise a grief thyself muft blame,
Nor from our weaknefs fteal a vulgar fame :
A patriot's fall may juftly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly shed for all mankind.

How do our fouls with gen'rous pleasure glow,
Our hearts exulting while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero ftands beneath the weight
Of all his fuff'rings venerably great,

Rome's poor remains ftill fhelt'ring 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;

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ΤΟ

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'Midft ftorms and earthquakes he maintains his state,
Fixt deep in earth and fasten'd by his weight;
His naked boughs fill lend the fhepherds aid,
And his old trunk projects an awful shade.
Amidst the joys triumphant peace bestows

Our patriots fadden at his glorious woes;

A while they let the world's great bus'nefs wait, 28
Anxious for Rome, and figh for Cato's fate.
Here taught how ancient heroes rose to fame
Our Britons crowd and catch the Roman flame,
Where ftates and fenates well might lend an car,
And kings and priests without a blush appear.
France boafts no more, but fearful to engage
Now first pays homage to her rival's ftage,

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