Whilft liftening crowds confefs the fweet furprize, With pleasure in their breafts, and wonder in their eyes. Here curious minds the latent feeds difclofe, And Nature's darkest labyrinths expose; Whilft greater fouls the diftant worlds defery, Pierce to the out-ftretch'd borders of the fky, Enlarge the fearching mind, and broad expand il modes the eye. O you, whose rifing years so great began, I In whofe bright youth I read the flining man, O Lonsdale, know what noblest minds approve, The thoughts they cherish, and the arts love: arts they 20 Plot 3004 Let these examples your young bofom fire, And bid your foul to boundless height aspiré. Methinks I fee you in our fhades retir'd, Alike admiring, and by all admir'd Your eloquence now charms my ravifir'd ear, 1 Which future fenates fhall transported hear, Now mournful verfe infpires a pleafing woe, And now your cheeks with warlike fury glow, Whilft on the paper fancy'd fields appear, And profpects of imaginary war; Your martial foul fees Hock ftet's fatal plain, But I in vain thefe lofty names rehearse, Above the faint attempts of humble verfe, Which Garth fhould in immortal strains defign, Or Addifon exalt with warmth divine; > A meaner fong my tender voice requires, eyes. 4 Q, did proportion'd height to me belong, Great Anna's name fhould grace th' ambitious fong:; Illuftrious dames fhould round their Queen res fort, in dibar kan jodnu vod And Lonfdale's mother crown the fplendid court; Her.noble fon fhould boaft no vulgar place,,'! But fhare the ancient honours of his race; DSA Whilst Whilft each fair daughter's face and conquering eyes To Venus only fhould fubmit the prize:1 O matchless beauties! more than heavenly fair, Your looks refiftlefs, and divine your air, Let your bright eyes their bounteous beams diffuse, And no fond Bard fhall ask an-ufelefs Mufe; Give beauty to the fong, and mufic to the lyre. Oxford, the Goddefs Mufe's native home, Inspir'd like Athens, and adorn'd like Rome! Hadit thou of old been Learning's fam'd re treat, And Pagan Mufes chofe thy lovely feat O; how unbounded' had their fiction been!" Satyre had frisk'd in each poetic grove, And not a ftream without its Nymphs could moves Each fummit had the train of Mufes fhew'd, Own Thofe fictions by more wond'rous truths out done ;,. Here pure Eufebia keeps her holy feat, To blefs the happy ait, and fanctify the land. So So may you be kind Heaven's distinguish'd care, 1 A thousand bleflings I to Oxford owe,, But you, my Lord, th' infpiring Mufe beftow; Grac'd with your name th' unpolish'd poem fhines, You guard its faults, and confecrate the lines. Yet fhould I find an equal pleasure there; |