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Touch'd by your hand, his manly frame improves 65
This labour paft, of heav'nly fubjects fing,
To Mr. POPE,
On the publishing his WORKS.
HE comes, he comes! bid ev'ry bard prepare
Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught,
But hark, what fhouts, what gath'ring crouds rejoice! Unftain'd their praise by any venal voice, Such as the ambitious vainly think their due, When prostitutes, or needy flatt'rers fue." And fee the chief! before him laurels borne ; Trophies from undeferving temples torn; Here rage enchain'd reluctant raves, and there Pale envy dumb, and fick'ning with despair, Prone to the earth fhe bends her loathing eye, Weak to fupport the blaze of majefty.
But what are they that turn the sacred Three lovely virgins, and of equal age'; Intent they read, and all enamour'd feem, As he that met his likeness in the ftream: The GRACES thefe; and fee how they contend, 25 Who moft shall praife, who beft shall recommend. The chariot now the painful steep afcends, The Peans ceafe; thy glorious labour ends. Here fix'd, the bright eternal temple ftands, Its profpect an unbounded view commands: Say, wond'rous youth, what column wilt thou chufe, What laurel'd arch for thy triumphant Mufe? Tho' each great ancient court thee to his fhrine, Tho' 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) Go to the good and juft, an awful train, Thy foul's delight, and glory of the fane': While thro' the earth thy dear remembrance flies, "Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies."
From Rome, 1730
MMORTAL bard! for whom each Mufe has wove The fairest garlands of th' Aonian grove; cnt Preferv'd, our drooping genius to restore, When Addifon and Congreve are no more; After fo many stars extinct in night, The dark'ned ages laft remaining light! To thee from Latian realms this verfe is writ, Infpir'd by memory of ancient wit; For now no more thefe climes their influence boaft, Fall'n is their glory, and their virtue loft; From tyrants, and from priefts, the Mufes fly, Daughters of Reafon and of Liberty.. Nor Baie now, nor Umbria's plain they love, Nor on the banks of Nar, or Mincia rove; › To Thames's flow'ry borders they retire, And kindle in thy breaft the Roman fire. So in the fhades, when chear'd with fummer rays Melodious linnets warbled fprightly lays,
17 / *** 7.2
Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain
Of gloomy winter's unaufpicious, reign,
No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love,
Unhappy Italy! whofe alter'd ftate
Has felt the worst feverity of fate:
Not that barbarian hands her fafces broke,
And bow'd her haughty neck beneath their yoke;
Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown,
Her cities defert, and her fields unfown;
That facred wifdom from her bounds is fled,
Illuftrious names! that once in Latium fhin'd,
As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I ftrow'd,
Near me and Homer thou afpire to fit,
Of thee more worthy were the task, to raise
Brave, yet refin'd, for arms and arts renown'd, li
And join the patriot's to the poet's praises 45 dla mit?