Anacreon, Horace, play'd in Greece and Rome This Bedlam part; and, others nearer home. The proud protector of the pow'r he gain'd, Religion harfh, intolerant, auftere, Parent of manners like herfelf fevere, Drew a rough copy of the Chriftian face The dark and fullen humour of the time Judg'd ev'ry effort of the mufe a crime; Verfe in the fineft mould of fancy caft, Was lumber in an age so void of taste ; Then like a bow long forc'd into a curve, The mind, releas'd from too constrain'd a nerve That made the vaulted roofs of pleasure ring. Of wantonnefs, where vice was taught by rule, Swarm'd with a fcribbling herd as deep inlaid From thefe a long fucceffion, in the rage Of rank obfcenity debauch'd their age, That neither gave nor would endure offence, In front of these came Addifon. In him Humour in holiday and fightly trim, To polish, furnish, and delight the mind; Then Pope, as harmony itself exact, In verse well difciplin'd, complete, compact; VOL. I. Ꭰ Gave Gave virtue and morality a grace That quite eclipfing pleasure's painted face, Ev'n on the fools that trampl'd on their laws. So nice his ear, fo delicate his touch) And ev'ry warbler has his tune by heart. Her ferious mirth, to Arbuthnot and Swift, With droll fobriety they rais'd a fmile At Folly's coft, themselves unmov'd the while. Muft hope to look upon their like again. A. Are we then left-B. Not wholly in the dark, Wit now and then, ftruck smartly fhews a spark, Sufficient to redeem the modern race From total night and abfolute difgrace. While fervile trick and imitative knack Confine the million in the beaten track, Perhaps Perhaps fome courfer who difdains the road, Contempories all furpass'd, fee one, Short his career, indeed, but ably run, Churchill; himself unconscious of his pow'rs, In penury confum'd his idle hours, And like a scatter'd feed at random fown, If brighter beams than all he threw not forth, The laurel feem'd to wait on his command, Forms, opens, and gives fcent to ev'ry flow'r, With music, modulating all their notes, And charms the woodland fcenes and wilds unknown, With artless airs and concerts of her own : But feldom (as if fearful of expence) Vouchfafes to man a poet's just pretence, Fervency, freedom, fluency of thought, Skill'd in the characters that form mankind; Looks to the weftward from the dappled east, And |