O'er all the plains, the ftreams, and woods
The pleafing lays of fweeteft Bards refound;
A faithful echo every note returns,
And listening River-Gods neglect their urns.
When Codrington* and Steele their verfe unrein,
And form an easy, unaffected strain,
A double wreath of laurel binds their brow,
As they are poets and are warriers too.
Trapp's lofty fcenes in gentle numbers flow,
Like Dryden great, as foft as moving Rowe.
When youthful Harrifon +, with tuneful skill,
Makes Woodstock Park fcarce yield to Cooper's
Hill;
Old Chaucer from th' Elyfian Fields looks down,
And fees at length a genius like his own;
Charm'd with his lays, which reach the fhadeɛ
below,
Fair Rofamonda intermits her woe,
Forgets the anguifh of an injur❜d foul,
The fatal poignard, and invenom❜d bowl.
The great benefactor to All-fouls College. N.
Of whom, fee Select Collection, vol. IV. p. 180. N.
Apollo fmiles on Magd'len's peaceful bowers, Perfumes the air, and paints the grot with.
Where Yalden learn'd to gain the myrtle crown,
And every Mufe was fond of Addison.
Applauded man! for weightier trufts defign'd,
For once difdain not to unbend thy mind;
Thy mother Is and her groves rehearse,
A fubject not unworthy of thy verse ;
So Latian Fields will ceafe to boaft thy praife,
And yield to Oxford, painted in thy lays:
And when the age to come, from envy free,
'What thou to Virgil giv'ft fhall give to thee,
Ifis, immortal by the Poet's skill,
"Shall, in the fmooth defcription, murmur • ftill*;"
New beauties fhall adorn our fylvan fcene,
And in thy numbers grow for ever green.
Danby's fam'd gift + fuch verfe as thine requires,
Exalted raptures, and celeftial fires;
* Letter from Italy, by Mr. Addison. T.
The Phyfic-garden at Oxford. This hint was happily taken-up in 1713 by Dr. Evans. See Select Collection, 1780, vol. III. p. 145. N.
Apollo here should plenteously impart,
As well his finging, as his curing art;
Nature herself the healing garden loves,
Which kindly her declining ftrength improves,
Baffles the strokes of unrelenting Death,
Can break his arrows, and can blunt his teeth.
How fweet the landskip! where, in living trees,
Here frowns a vegetable Hercules!
There fam'd Achilles learns to live again,
And looks yet angry in the mimic scene;
Here artful birds, which blooming arbours fhew,
Seem to fly higher, whilft they upwards grow,
From the fame leaves both arms and warriors
every bough a different charm fupplies. So when our world the great Creator made, And, unadorn'd, the fluggish chaos laid, Horror and Beauty-own'd their fire the same, And Form itself from Parent Matter came,
That lumpish mafs alone was fource of all,
And Bards and Themes had one original.
In vain the groves demand my longer stay, The gentle Ifis wafts the Mufe away;
With ease the river guides her wandering ftream,
And haftes to mingle with uxorious Thame,
Attempting Poets on her banks lie down,
And quaff, infpir'd, the better Helicon,
Harmonious strains adorn their various themes,
Sweet as the banks, and flowing as the ftreams.
Blefs'd we, whom bounteous Fortune here has
And made the various bleffings all our own! Nor crowns, nor globes, the pageantry of state, Upon our humble, eafy flumbers wait;
Nor aught that is Ambition's lofty theme
Disturbs our fleep, and gilds the gaudy dream.
Touch'd by no ills which vex th' unhappy great,
We only read the changes in the ftate,
Triumphant Marlborough's arms at distance
hear,
And learn from Fame the rough events of war;
With pointed rhymes the Gallic tyrant pierce,
And make the cannon thunder in our verse.
See how the matchlefs youth their hours
improve,
And in the glorious way to knowledge move!
Eager for fame, prevent the rifing fun,
And watch the midnight labours of the moon.
Not tender years their bold attempts restrain,
Who leave dull Time, and haften into man,
Pure to the foul, and pleafing to the eyes,
Like angels youthful, and like angels wife.
Some learn the mighty deeds of ages gone,
And, by the lives of heroes, form their own;
Now view the Granique choak'd with heaps of
And warring worlds on the Pharfalian plain;
Now hear the trumpets clangour from afar,
And all the dreadful harmony of war;
Now trace thofe fecret tricks that loft a state,
And search the fine-fpun arts that made it great,
Correct thofe errors that its ruin bred,
And bid fome long-loft empire rear its ancient head.
Others, to whom perfuafive arts belong
(Words in their looks, and mufic on their tongue),
Inftructed by the wit of Greece and Rome,
Learn richly to adorn their native home;
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