Horace in useful numbers should be fung,

And Virgil's thoughts adorn the British tongue;
Let Ovid tell Corinna's hard difdain,

And at her door in melting notes complain;
His tender accents pitying virgins move,

And charm the lift'ning ear with tales of love.
Let ev'ry claffick in the volume fhine,
And each contribute to thy great defign:
Through various fubjects let the reader range,
And raise his fancy with a grateful change;
Variety's the fource of joy below,

From whence ftill fresh revolving pleasures flow.
In books and love, the mind one end pursues,
And only change th' expiring flame renews.

Where Buckingham will condefcend to give,
That honour'd piece to distant times must live;
When noble Sheffield ftrikes the trembling strings,
The little loves rejoyce, and clap their wings;
Anacreon, lives, they cry, th' harmonious swain
Retunes the lyre, and tries his wonted strain,
'Tis he our loft Anacreon lives again.
But when th' illuftrious poet foars above
The sportive revels of the god of love,

Like

Like Maro's mufe he takes a loftier flight,

And towres beyond the wond'ring Cupid's fight.

If thou wouldst have thy volume stand the teft, And of all others be reputed beft,

Let Congreve teach the lift'ning groves to mourn,
As when he wept o'er fair Paftora's urn.

Let Prior's mufe with foft'ning accents move,
Soft as the ftrains of constant Emma's love:
Or let his fancy chufe fome jovial theme,
As when he told Hans Carvel's jealous dream;
Prior th' admiring reader entertains,

With Chaucer's humour, and with Spencer's ftrains.
Waller in Granville lives; when Mira fings
With Waller's hand he ftrikes the founding ftrings,
With sprightly turns his noble genius fhines,
And manly fenfe adorns his eafie lines.

On Addifon's fweet lays attention waits,
And filence guards the place while he repeats;
His mufe alike on ev'ry fubject charms,
Whether he paints the god of love, or arms:
In him, pathetick Qvid fings again,

And Homer's Iliad Thines in his Campaign.

Whenever Garth fhall raife his fprightly fong, Senfe flows in eafie numbers from his tongue; K 3

Great

Great Phoebus in his learned fon we fee,

Alike in phyfic, as in poetry.

When Pope's harmonious mufe with pleasure roves, Amidft the plains, the murm'ring ftreams, and groves, Attentive echo pleas'd to hear his fongs,

'Thro' the glad fhade each warbling note prolongs;
His various numbers charm our ravish'd ears,
His fteady judgment far out-fhoots his years,
And early in the youth the God appears.

From thefe fuccefsful bards collect thy ftrains,
And praise with profit fhall reward thy pains:
Then, while calves-leather binding bears the fway,
And sheep-fkin to its fleeker glofs gives way;
While neat old Elzevir is reckon'd better

Than Pirate Hill's brown fheets, and fcurvy letter;
While print admirers careful Aldus chufe
Before John Morphew, or the weekly news:
So long fhall live thy praise in books of fame,
And Tonfon yield to Lintott's lofty name.

VERSES defign'd to be prefix'd to Mr. LINTOTT's Mifcellany.

S

OME Colineus praife, fome Bleau

Others account them but fo, fo;

Some Stephens to the reft prefer,

And fome efteem old Elzevir :

Others with Aldus would befot us;

I, for my part, admire Lintottus.

Those printed unknown tongues, 'tis faid,
Which fome can't conftrue, most can't read;

What Lintott offers to your hand,

Even R- may understand:

They print their names in letters small,

But LINTOTT ftands in Capital;

Author and he with equal grace

Appear, and stare you in the face.
Oft in an Aldus or a Plantin,

A page is blotted, or leaf wanting;

Of Lintott's books this can't be faid,

All fair, and not fo much as read.

Their books are useful but to few,
A fcholar, or a wit or two:

Lintott's for general use are fit,

For fome folks read, but all folks fh-t.

Sweet