Whilft liftening crowds confefs the sweet 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 defcry, Pierce to the out-ftretch'd borders of the sky, Enlarge the fearching mind, and broad expand the eye. O you, whofe rifing years fo great began, Let these examples your young bosom fire, Your eloquence now charms my ravifli'd ear, And profpects of imaginary war; Your martial foul fees Hockstet's fatal plain, But I in vain these lofty names rehearse, Ó, did proportion'd height to me belong, Great Anna's name fhould grace th' ambitious fong; Illuftrious dames fhould round their Queen re fort, And Lonídale's mother crown the fplendid court; Her noble fon fhould boast no vulgar place, But share the ancient honours of his race; I Whild Whilst each fair daughter's face and conquering eyes To Venus only should submit the prize. 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 afk an useless Mufe; Oxford, the Goddefs Mufe's native home, Infpir'd like Athens, and adorn'd like Rome! Hadft thou of old been Learning's fam'd re treat, And Pagan Mufes chofe thy lovely feat, O, how unbounded had their fiction been! Satyrs had frisk'd in each poetic grove, And not a stream without its Nymphs could' move; 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,, And Themis fmiles from Heaven on this retreat; Our chafter Graces own refin'd defires, And all our Mufes burn with veftal fires; To bless the happy air, and fanctify the land. So So may you be kind Heaven's diftinguish'd care, A thousand bleffings I to Oxford owe, But you, my Lord, th' inspiring Mufe bestow; Grac'd with your name th' unpolish'd poem fhines, You guard its faults, and confecrate the lines.. O might you here meet my defiring eyes, My drooping fong to nobler heights would rife: Or might I come to breathe your Northern air, Yet fhould I find an equal pleasure there;. Would |