And, if he often miss'd his aim, The world must own it, to their shame, He gave the little wealth he had To build a house for fools and mad; To fhew, by one fatyric touch, No nation wanted it so much. } 376 And, fince you dread no farther lashes, 380 Methinks you may forgive his ashes. Salve magna parens frugum Saturnia tellus, VIRG. Georg. 2. WHILE you, my Lord, the rural shades admire, * Born 1671; dyed 1719. 5 For wherefoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes, And still I feem to tread on claffic ground; 10 15 How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods, For rifing springs and celebrated floods! To view the Nar, tumultuous in his courfe, And trace the fmooth Clitumnus to his fource, 20 To fee the Mincio draw his watry store, Through the long windings of a fruitful fhore, And hoary Albula's infected tide O'er the warm bed of fmoking fulphur glide. 25 Fir'd with a thousand raptures I furvey Eridanus through flow'ry meadows stray, The king of floods! that rolling o'er the plains The tow'ring Alps of half their moisture drains, And proudly fwoln with a whole winter's fnows, Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows. 30 Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful throng, I look for ftreams immortaliz'd in song, That loft in filence and oblivion lie, (Dumb are their fountains, and their channels dry) Yet run for ever by the Muse's skill, And in the fmooth description murmur ftill. 35 40 Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire, And the fam'd river's empty shores admire, That deftitute of ftrength derives its course From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source; Yet fung fo often in poetic lays, With fcorn the Danube and the Nile furveys; So high the deathless Muse exalts her theme! Such was the Boyn, a poor inglorious ftream, That in Hibernian vales obscurely stray'd, And unobserv'd in wild meanders play'd; 'Till by your lines and Naffau's fword renown'd, Its rifing billows through the world refound, Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce, Or where the fame of an immortal verse. 45 Oh cou'd the Muse my ravish'd breast inspire With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire, Unnumber'd beauties in my verse shou'd shine, And Virgil's Italy fhou'd yield to mine! 50 56 See how the golden groves around me smile, That fhun the coast of Britain's ftormy isle, Or when tranfplanted and preferv'd with care, Curfe the cold clime, and ftarve in northern air. Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments To nobler taftes, and more exalted scents: Ev'n the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, And troden weeds send out a rich perfume. Bear me, fome god, to Baia's gentle feats, Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats; 60 Where western gales eternally refide, And all the seasons lavish all their pride: 66 70 Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my foul a thousand paffions strive, When Rome's exalted beauties I descry Magnificent in piles of ruine lie. An amphitheater's amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its public fhows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb: Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies; And here the proud triumphal arches rise, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd, Their base degenerate progeny upbraid : 75 80 Whole rivers here forfake the fields below, And wond'ring at their height through airy channels flow. Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires; Heroes, and gods, and Roman confuls ftand, 86 99 |