A foul like thine, in pains, in grief refign'd, 35 So seems some Picture, where exact defign, And curious pains, and strength and sweetness join: Where the free thought its pleafing grace bestows, And each warm ftroke with living colour glows: 40 Soft without weakness, without labour fair; Wrought up at once with happiness and care! How bleft the man that from the world removes To joys that MORDAUNT, or his Pope approves; Whose taste exact each author can explore, And live the present and past ages o'er: Who free from pride, from penitence, or ftrife, Move calmly forward to the verge of life: Such be my days, and such my fortunes be, To live by reason, and to write by thee! Nor deem this verfe, tho' humble, thy disgrace; All are not born the glory of their race: 45 50 The The Muse who now this early homage pays, Who knows no envy, and who grieves no friend; 55 WALTER HARTE. 59 * Pope's turn of verfification, formularies of expreffion, &c. are well preserved in these verses, which appear fincere, although the praise is exceffive and exaggerated. Upon reading these encomiums, it may be remarked, that Pope was ushered into the world with all the confideration which the patronage of the Great, and the efforts of friendship, could bestow; while Milton, who published his great work in obfcurity and indigence, had no patron to protect, and few friends to encourage him: but the true merit of each as a poet, is better tried by the effect of their respective works, when the authors themselves, their patrons and friends, are no more. Pope, whose works will be always interest. ing to the reader of tafte, does not claim that fuperior adoration paid to the great mafter of English poetry; while Milton now, I had almost faid, "looks from his fole dominion" like that Luminary he has himself fo finely defcribed. |