Let Congreve teach the liftning groves to mourn,
As when he wept o'er fair Pastora's urn.
Let Prior's Muse with soft'ning 'accents
move,
Soft as the strains of constant Emma's love';
Or let his fancy chuse fome jovial theme,
As when he told Hans Carvel's jealous dream:
Prior th' admiring reader entertains
With Chaucer's humour, , and with Spenser's
Itrains.
Waller in Granville lives: when Mira fings,
With Waller's hand he strikes the founding strings;
With sprightly turns his noble genius Chines,
And manly Jenle adorns his easy lines.
On Addison's sweet lays Attention waits,
And Silence guards the place while he repeats;
His Muse alike on ev'ry subject charms,
Whether she paints the god of Love or Arms:
In him pathetic Ovid fings again,
And Homer's Iliad shines in his Campaign.
Whenever Garth shall raile his sprightly
fong,
Sense flows in eafy numbers from his tongue;
Great Phoebus in his learned son we see,
Alike in phyfic as in poetry.
Amidst the plains, the murm'ring streams and gro
ves,
Attentive Echo pleas'd to hear his songs.
Thro' the glad hade each warbling note prolongs;
His various numbers charm our ravish'd ears,
His steady judgment far outshoots his years,
And early in the youth the god appears,
From these successful bards collect thy strains;
And praise with profit shall reward thy pains:
Then, while calves’-leather binding bears the lway,
And sheep-skin to its fleeker gloss gives way,
While neat old Elzevir is reckon'd better
Then Pirate Hill's brown sheets and scurvy letter,
While print-admirers careful Aldus chule
Before John Morphew, or the weekly news,
So long shall live thy praise in books of Fame,
And Tonson yield to Lintott's lofty name.
Lord L-1 t telton. Lord Lyttels
George Lord Lyttelton, geb. 1709, geft. 1773. eriparb fich zwar als Dichter nicht so ausgezeichnetes Ansehen, als durch die Ehrenstellen, die er bekleidete, und durch seine Ges schichte beinrichs II. Seine Gedichte verdienen indeß ima mer noch Aufmerksamkeit; und in den darunter befindlichen Episteln herrscht, wie Dr. Johnson sich ausdrückte, eine ges wife fanfte Gleichmüthigkeit, die nicht sehr ermüden kann, weil sie kurz sind, wenn gleich der Geist des Lesers selten ogs durch erhoben oder überrascht wird.
Immortal Bard! for whom each Muse has wove
The fairest garlands of th' Aonian grove,
Preserv'd, our drooping genius to restore,
When Addison and Congreve are no more,
After so many stars extinct in night,
The darken'd age's last remaining light!
To thee from Latian realms this verse is writ,
Inspir’d by memory of ancient wit:
For now no more these climes their influence boast,
Fall'n is their glory, and their virtue loft;
From tyrants and from priests the Muses fly,
Daughters of Reason and of Liberty.
Nor Bajae now, nor Umbria's plain they love,
Nor on the banks of Nar or Mincio rove;
To Thames's flow'ry borders they retire,
And kindle in thy breast the Roman fire.
So in the shades where cheer'd with summer rays
Melodious linnets warbled sprightly lays,
Soon as the faded falling leaves complain
Of gloomy Winter's inauspicious reign,
No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love,
But mournful filence faddens all the grove.
Un.
Lors Lyttel
Unhappy Italy! whose alter'd state
ton.
Has felt the worst severity of Fate.
Not that barbarian hands her falces broke,
And bow'd her haughty neck beneath her yoke,
Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown,
Her cities defert, and her fields unsown;
But that her ancient fpirit is decay'd,
That facred wisdom from her bounds is fled,
That there the source of science flows no more,
Whence its rich streams supply'd the world before.
Illustrious Names, that once in Latium fhind,
Born to instruct and to command mankind,
Chiefs, by whose virtues mighty Rome' was rais’d,
And Poets, who those chiefs sublimely prais’d!
Oft' I the traces, you have left, explore,
Your ashes visit, and your urns adore,
Oft' kils with lips devout some mould'ring stone,
With ivy's venerable fhade o'ergrown,
Those hallow'd ruins better pleas’d to see,
Than all the pomp of modern luxury.
As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I strow'd,
While with tl' inspiring Mule my bosom glow'd,
Crown'd with eternal bays my ravish'd eyes
Beheld the poet's awful form arise:
Stranger!" he said, whose pious hand has
paid These grateful rites to my attentive fhade, „When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air, „To Pope this message from his master bear:“
„Great Bard! whole numbers I myself inspire,
To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre,
If high exalted on the throne of Wit
Near me and Homer thou aspire to fit,
No more let meaner Satire dim the rays
,,That flow majestic froin thy nobler bays;
In all the ftow'ry paths of Pindus (tray,
But Chun that thorny, that unpleasing way:
„Nor, when each soft engaging Muse is thine, Lord Lyttels
Address the least attractive of the Nine.
„ Of thee more worthy were the task to raise
„A lasting column to thy country's praise,
To sing the land which yet alone can boast
That liberty, corrupted Rome has lost,
Where Science in the arm of Peace is laid,
And plants her palm beside the olive's 1 hade.
Such was the theme for which my lyre I strung,
Such was the people whose exploits i lung,
„Brave, yet refin'd, for arms and arts renown'd,
With diff'rent bays by Mars and Phoebus crown'd; ,,Dauntless opposers of tyrannick sway,
But pleas'd a mild Augustus to obey.“
„If these commands submissive thou receive, Immortal and unblam'd thy name shall live ; „Envy to black Cocytus shall retire,
And howl with Furies in tormenting fire; „Approving Time 1 hall consecrate thy lays, „And join the patriot's to the poet's praise.“
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