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The rude, bleak waste a blooming verdure wears ;
Rocks blush with vines, and heaths are gay parterres ;
While airy forms trip o'er th' enchanted ground,
And heav'nly music charms the region round.
Ah! spare your sneers, ye sons of wealth and care : Gold cannot paint a scene so gay and fair.
Such too that pow's, which bids the landskip glow,
Provok'd it deals fure vengeance on the foe.
Scorn all, who list; if e'er the plumed dart
Is aim'd to strike, it awes the proudest heart.
This dullness feels, enflam’d with rage and shame,
When Dunciads doom it to the scoffs of fame.
When human laws are bought, its active zeal
Restores to Justice her impartial scale.
If ranker weeds their foul contagion spread,
And daring Licence rais'd her impious head,
Here springs a wish, that none their pow'r profane :
Pure be his life, who writes, from ev'ry stain;
Pure let his page with facred luftre shine;
Let rigid virtue mark the blameless line.
When Lewdness pours his vile debauch’ries forth,
Drive the base wretch, ye Muses, from your train,
And bind, in dullness bind his barren brain,
That, when the strangled thought would press to light,
But hence; and darkness whelm th’ apostate throng!
That glorious list my raptur’d eyes survey,
Which, spar'd by spoiling time, and Gothic rage,
Admir'd, rever'd, has fhone through ev'ry age.
So strongly bright, the morn of science rose,
Still in our hearts the warm reflection glows.
Genius still bows, and lights th' inspiring flame ;
Fir'd with the view, he seeks th'cmbattled foe,
Where conquest waits to crown the warrior's brow. But Heav'n, who nerves the arm, and guides the hand, Forbids, that all, in war, and wit, command.
Few yet have sped, whose bold ambition dar'd
To snatch the wreath, which crowns the epic bard:
For 'tis a plan, no vulgar Pen can trace,
Or shave, in level flight, the nether sky;
Like bees, in summer fields, the buzzing throngs
Pour forth in odes, and elegies, and songs.
Some, humbler still, their petty pow'r employ,
But cease to count, what rovers of the Quill,
As atoms crowded in the folár ray,
Thcir embryo forms in endless mazes stray,
Yet see that groupe, no undistinguish'd choir, Gentler in mien, and lovelier in attire :
Mark, how each Grace directs their pleasing toils,
And ev'ry Muse enlivens with her smiles. Welcome, ye bards, these partners of your praise,
The virtuous Sapphos of our modern days.
Too long in wit had man usurp'd the throne,
'Till taste and learning travellid side by side,
And barb'rous rules and Salic laws destroy'd.
No further glories wait the grey goose Quill,
With twofold force the plumed weapon wield.
F INI s.