How wild Lycaon, chang'd by angry Gods, Have liv'd a fecond life, and different matures try'd, A nobler change than he himself can tell. Mag. Coll. Oxon. From Mr. ADDISON'S Account of the ENGLISH POETS. UT fee where artful Dryden next appears, BY Grown old in rhyme, but charming ev'n in years. Great Dryden next! whose tuneful muse affords The sweetest numbers and the fittest words. Whether in comick founds, or tragick airs She forms her voice, fhe moves our fmiles and tears. If fatire or heroick ftrains fhe writes, Her hero pleases, and her fatire bites. From her no harsh, unartful numbers fall, Congreve! whofe fancy's unexhausted store On ALEXANDER'S FEAST: Or, The POWER of MUSICK. An ODE. From Mr. POPE'S ESSAY ON CRITICISM, 1. 376, H EAR how Timotheus' vary'd lays furprize, CHARACTER of DRYDEN. From an ODE OF GRA Y'S. Ehold, where Dryden's lefs prefumptuous car, BE Wide o'er the fields of glory bear: Two couriers of ethereal race, [pace. Hark, With necks in thunder cloath'd, and long-refounding Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-ey'd Fancy hov'ring o'er, Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. Oh! lyre divine, what daring fpirit Such forms, as glitter in the mufe's ray Yet shall he mount, and keep his diftant way Beneath the good how far---but far above the great. Upon II. Tho' our beft notes are treafon to his fame, Tho' in his praise no arts can liberal be, Since they, whofe mufes have the higheft flown, But do an act of friendship to their own: Yet 'tis our duty, and our interest too, Such monuments as we can build to raise; Left all the world prevent what we fhould do, And claim a title in him by their praise. V. How shall I then begin, or where conclude, For in a round what order can be fhew'd, His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone; No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, Fortune, that eafy miftrefs to the young, IX. He private mark'd the fault of others fway. And yet dominion was not his defign; We owe that bleffing, not to him, but heav'n, Which to fair acts unfought rewards did join; Rewards, that lefs to him than us were given. XI. Our former chiefs, like fticklers of the war, First fought t' inflame the parties, then to poife: The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor; And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise. XII, War, our confumption, was their gainful trade: To ftaunch the blood by breathing of the vein. Swift and refiftlefs through the land he paft, As if on wings of victory he flew, He fought fecure of fortune as of fame : Still by new maps, the island might be fhewn, Of conquefts, which he ftrew'd where-e'er he came, Thick as the galaxy with ftars is fown. XV. His palms, tho' under weights they did not ftand, 3 7 Alexander the great, XVI. Peace |