At Fancy’s call, who rear the wanton fail,
Sport with the stream, and trifle in the gale: 480
Sublimer views thy daring Spirit bound;
Thy mighty Voyage was Creation's round;
Intent new Worlds of Wisdom to explore,
And bless Mankind with Virtue's facred store;
A nobler joy than Wit can give, impart; 485
pour a moral transport o'er the heart.
Fantastic Wit shoots momentary fires,
And, like a Meteor, while we gaze, expires :
Wit kindled by the sulph'rous breath of Vice,
Like the blue Light’ning, while it shines, destroys:
But Genius, fir'd by Truth's eternal ray, 491
Burns clear and constant, like the source of day :
Like this, its beam prolific and refin'd,
Feeds, warms, inspirits, and exalts the mind;
Mildly dispels each wintry Paffion's gloom, 495
And opens all the Virtues into bloom.
This Praise, immortal Pope, to thee be giv'n :
Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heav'n.
Hail, Bard unequald, in whose deathless line
Reason and Wit, with strength collected shine; 500
Where matchless Wit but wins the second praise,
Loft, nobly lost, in Truth's superior blaze.