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Should fome rich youth (if nature warm his heart, And all his projects ftand inform'd with art)

Here clear the caves, there ope the leading vein; The mines detected flame with gold again.

How vaft, how copious, are thy new defigns !65 How ev'ry Mufic varies in thy lines! Still, as I read, I feel my bofom beat, And rife in raptures by another's heat.

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Thus in the wood, when fummer dress'd the days,
While Windfor lent us tuneful hours of eafe,
Our ears the lark, the thrufh, the turtle bleft,
And Philomela fweeteft o'er the reft:
The shades refound with fong-O foftly tread,
While a whole feafon warbles round my head.

This to my Friend-and when a friend infpires,
My filent harp its mafter's hand requires.
Shakes off the dust, and makes these rocks refound;
For fortune plac'd me in unfertile ground:
Far from the joys that with my foul agree,
From wit, from learning-very far from thee.
Here mofs-grown trees expand the fmalleft leaf;
Here half an acre's corn is half a sheaf;
Here hills with naked heads the tempeft meet,
Rocks at their fides, and torrents at their feet;
Or lazy lakes unconscious of a flood,
Whofe dull brown Naiads ever sleep in mud.
Yet here Content can dwell, and learned Eafe,
A Friend delight me, and an Author please;

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Ev'n here I fing, when POPE fupplies the theme, Shew my own love, tho' not increase his fame. yo T. PARNELL.

L'

To Mr. P O P E.

ET vulgar fouls triumphal arches raise,

Or fpeaking marbles, to record their praife;
And picture (to the voice of Fame unknown)
The mimic Feature on the breathing ftone;
Mere mortals; fubject to death's total fway,
Reptiles of earth, and beings of a day!

'Tis thine, on ev'ry heart to grave thy praise,
A monument which Worth alone can raise :
Sure to furvive, when time fhall whelm in duft
The arch, the marble, and the mimic buft:
Nor 'till the volumes of th' expanded sky
Blaze in one flame, fhalt thou and Homer die :
Then fink together in the world's last fires,
What heav'n created, and what heav'n inspires.

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If aught on earth, when once this breath is fled, With human tranfport touch the mighty dead, Shakespear, rejoice! his hard thy page refines; Now ev'ry scene with native brightness shines ; Juft to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought; So Tully publish'd what Lucretius wrote;

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Prun'd by his care, thy laurels loftier grow,
And bloom afresh on thy immortal brow.

Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael! time in

vades,

And the bold figure from the canvass fades,
A rival hand recalls from ev'ry part

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Some latent grace, and equals art with art;
Tranfported we furvey the dubious ftrife,
While each fair image ftarts again to life.
How long, untun'd, had Homer's facred lyre
Jarr'd grating discord, all extinct his fire?
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This you beheld; and, taught by heav'n to fing,
Call'd the loud mufic from the founding ftring.
Now wak'd from flumbers of three thousand years,
Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears,
Tours o'er the field of death; as fierce he turns, 35
Keen flash his arms, and all the Hero burns;
With martial stalk, and more than mortal might,
He ftrides along, and meets the Gods in fight:
Then the pale Titans, chain'd on burning floors,
Start at the din that rends th' infernal fhores,
'Tremble the tow'rs of Heav'n, earth rocks

coafts,

And gloomy Pluto fhakes with all his ghofts.
To ev'ry theme refponds thy various lay;
Here rolls a torrent, there Meanders play;
Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise,

Tofs the wild waves, and thunder in the skies;

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Or fofter than a yielding virgin's figh,
The gentle breezes breathe away and die.
Thus, like the radiant God who fheds the day,
You paint the vale, or gild the azure way;
And while with ev'ry theme the verse complies,
Sink without groveling, without rashness rise.
Proceed, great Bard! awake th' harmonious string,
Be ours all Homer! ftill Ulyffes fing.
How long that Heroa, by unfkilful hands,
Strip'd of his robes, a beggar trod our lands?
Such as he wander'd o'er his native coast,
Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior loft:
O'er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread;
Old age difgrac'd the honours of his head;
Nor longer in his heavy eye ball shin'd

The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind.
But you, like Pallas, ev'ry limb infold

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With royal robes, and bid him fhine in gold; Touch'd by your hand, his manly frame improves With grace divine, and like a God he moves.

Ev'n I, the meaneft of the Muses' train,
Inflam'd by thee, attempt a nobler firain;
Advent'rous waken the Mæonian lyre,

Tun'd by your hand, and fing as you infpire: 70
So arm'd by great Achilles for the fight,
Patroclus conquer'd in Achilles' right:

a Odyffey, lib. xvi.

Like theirs, our Friendship and I boat my name
To thine united-for thy Friendship's Fame.

This labour paft, of heav'nly fubjects fing,
While hov'ring angels liften on the wing.
To hear from earth such heart-felt raptures rise,
As, when they fing, fufpended hold the skies:
Or nobly rifing in fair Virtue's caufe,

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From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws: 80
Teach a bad world beneath her fway to bend :
To verfe like thine fierce favages attend,

And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay,
Ev'n fiends relenting hear their rage away.

W. BROOME.

To Mr. P O PE,

On the publishing his WORKS.

E comes, he comes! bid ev'ry Bard prepare

HE

The fong of triumph, and attend his Car. Great Sheffield's Mufe the long proceffion heads, And throws a luftre o'er the pomp fhe leads, First gives the Palm fhe fir'd him to obtain, Crowns his gay brow, and fhews him how to reign.

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