And marks, whatever clouds may interpose,

Ere

An

yet his race begins, its glorious clofe;

eye like his to catch the diftant goal,

Or ere the wheels of verfe begin to roll;
Like his to fhed illuminating rays

On ev'ry scene and subject it surveys :

Thus grac'd the man afferts a poet's name,
And the world chearfully admits the claim.
Pity! Religion has fo feldom found

A skilful guide into poetic ground,

The flow'rs would fpring where'er fhe deign'd to ftray,

And ev'ry muse attend her in her way.

Virtue indeed meets many a rhiming friend,

And many a compliment politely penn'd;
But unattir'd in that becoming vest
Religion weaves for her, and half undress'd,
Stands in the defart fhiv'ring and forlotn,
A wint'ry figure, like a wither'd thorn.
The shelves are full, all other themes are fped,
Hackney'd and worn to the laft flimfy thread,

Satyr has long fince done his best, and curst
And loathsome ribaldry has done his worst;
Fancy has fported all her pow'rs away

In tales, in trifles, and in children's play;
And 'tis the fad complaint, and almost true,
Whate'er we write, we bring forth nothing new.
Twere new indeed, to fee a bard all fire,

Touch'd with a coal from heav'n, affume the lyre,
And tell the world, ftill kindling as he fung,
With more than mortal mufic on his tongue,
That he who died below and reigns above,
Infpires the fong, and that his name is love,
For after all, if merely to beguile

By flowing numbers and a flow'ry style,
The tædium that the lazy rich endure,

Which now and then fweet poetry may cure,

Or if to fee the name of idol felf

Stamp'd on the well-bound quarto, grace the shelf,
To float a bubble on the breath of fame,

Prompt his endeavour, and engage his aim,

Debas'd

Debas'd to fervile purposes of pride,

How are the powers of genius misapplied!
The gift whofe office is the giver's praise,

To trace him in his word, his works, his ways;
Then spread the rich discov'ry, and invite
Mankind to fhare in the divine delight;
Distorted from its use and juft defign,
To make the pitiful poffeffor fhine;
To purchase at the fool-frequented fair
Of vanity, a wreath for self to wear,
Is profanation of the bafeft kind,

Proof of a trifling and a worthlefs mind.

A. Hail Sternhold then and Hopkins hail! B. Amen.

If flatt'ry, folly, luft employ the pen,

If acrimony, flander, and abuse,

Give it a charge to blacken and traduce;

Though Butler's wit, Pope's numbers, Prior's ease,

With all that fancy can invent to please,

Adorn the polish'd periods as they fall,

One Madrigal of their's is worth them all.

A. 'Twould thin the ranks of the poetic tribe, To dash the pen through all that you profcribe.

B. No matter-we could fhift when they were not, And should no doubt if they were all forgot.

THE

THE PROGRESS OF ERROR.

Si quid loquar audiendum. HoR. LIB. 4. Od. 2.

ING mufe (if fuch a theme, fo dark, fo long,

SIN

May find a mufe to grace it with a fong)

By what unfeen and unfufpected arts,

The ferpent error twines round human hearts;

Tell where she lurks, beneath what flow'ry fhades,
That not a glimpse of genuine light pervades ;
The pois'nous, black, infinuating worm,
Successfully conceals her loathfome form.

Take,