Sure to furvive, when time fhall whelm in duft The arch, the marble, and the mimic buft: 10 Nor 'till the volumes of th' expanded sky

Blaze in one flame, fhalt thou and Homer die : Then fink together in the world's last fires, What heav'n created, and what heav'n inspires. If aught on earth, when once this breath is

15

fled, With human transport touch the mighty dead, Shakespear, rejoice! his hand thy page refines; Now ev'ry scene with native brightness shines ; Just to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought; So Tully publish'd what Lucretius wrote; Prun'd by his care, thy laurels loftier grow, And bloom afresh on thy immortal brow. Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael! time invades,

20

25

And the bold figure from the canvafs fades,
A rival hand recalls from every part
Some latent grace, and equals art with art;
Transported we furvey the dubious ftrife,
While each fair image starts again to life.
How long, untun'd, had Homer's facred lyre
Jarr'd grating difcord, all extinct his fire?

30

(x1)

This you
beheld; and taught by heav'n to fing,
Çall'd the loud mufic from the founding string.
Now wak'd from flumbers of three thousand years,
Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears,
Tow'rs o'er the field of death; as fierce he turns, 35
Keen flash his arms, and all the Hero burns;
With martial stalk, and more than mortal might,
He ftrides along, and meets the Gods in fight:
Then the pale Titans, chain'd on burning floors,
Start at the din that rends th' infernal fhores, 40
Tremble the tow'rs of Heav'n, earth rocks her

coafts,

And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts,
To ev'ry theme responds thy various lay;
Here rolls a torrent, there Meanders play;
Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise,
Tofs the wild waves, and thunder in the skies;
Or fofter than a yielding virgin's figh,

The gentle breezes breathe away and die.

45

Thus, like the radiant God who sheds the day,

You paint the vale, or gild the azure way; 50
And while with ev'ry theme the verse complies,
Sink without grov'ling, without rashness rise.
Proceed, great Bard! awaketh'harmonious string,
Be ours all Homer! ftill Ulyffes fing.

a

How long that Hero, by unskilful hands, 55
Strip'd of his robes, a beggar trod our lands?
Such as he wander'd o'er his native coast,
Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior loft:
O'er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread;
Old age difgrac'd the honours of his head;
Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball fhin'd

60

The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. like Pallas, ev'ry limb infold

But

you,

With royal robes, and bid him shine in gold; 64 Touch'd by your hand his manly frame improves With grace divine, and like a God he moves.

Ev'n I, the meaneft of the Mufes' train,

Inflam'd by thee, attempt a nobler ftrain;
Advent'rous waken the Mæonian lyre,
Tun'd by your hand, and fing as you inspire: 70
So arm'd by great Achilles for the fight,
Patroclus conquer'd in Achilles' right:

Like theirs, our Friendship! and I boast my name
To thine united-for thy Friendship's Fame.
This labour paft, of heav'nly fubjects fing, 75
While hov'ring angels liften on the wing.

Odyffey, lib. xvị.

To hear from earth fuch heart-felt raptures rise, As, when they fing, fufpended hold the Skies: Or nobly rifing in fair Virtue's caufe,

From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws: 80 Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend: To verfe like thine fierce favages attend,

And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay Ev'n fiends relenting hear their rage away.

W. BROOM E.

H'

To Mr. POPE,

On the publishing his WORK S.

E comes, he comes! bid ev'ry Bard prepare

5

The fong of triumph, and attend his Car. Great Sheffield's Muse the long proceffion heads, And throws a luftre o'er the pomp The leads, First gives the Palm she fir'd him to obtain, Crowns his gay brow, and fhews him how to reign. Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught, Was form'd for all the miracles he wrought: Thus Chiron did the youth he taught applaud, Pleas'd to behold the earnest of a God.

3

But hark, what shouts, what gath'ring crouds

rejoice!

Unftain'd their praise by any venal Voice,
Such as th' Ambitious vainly think their due,
When Prostitutes, or needy Flatt'rers fue.
And see the Chief! before him laurels born; 15
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 support the blaze of majesty.

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But what are they that turn the facred page? Three lovely Virgins, and of equal age; Intent they read, and all enamour'd seem, As he that met his likeness in the stream: TheGRACES these; and fee how they contend, 25 Whomost shall praise, who best shall recommend.

The Chariot now the painful steep afcends, The Paans ceafe; thy glorious labour ends. Here fix'd, the bright eternal Temple stands, Its prospect an unbounded view commands: 30 Say, wond'rous youth, what Column wilt thou chufe,

What laurel'd Arch for thy triumphant Muse?