Whence fummer funs imbrown the labouring fwains,
And shivering winter pines in icy chains :

And prais'd the Power Supreme, nor dar'd advance
So vain a theory as that of Chance.

But in this ifle fhe found the nymphs so fair,.
She chang'd her hand, and chofe a fofter air,
And Love and Beauty next became her care.
Greece, her lov'd country, only could afford
A Venus and a Helen to record;

A thousand radiant nymphs fhe here beheld,
Who match'd the goddess, and the queen excell'd.
T'immortalize their loves fhe long essay'd,
But ftill the tongue her generous toil betray'd.
Chaucer had all that beauty could inspire,
And Surrey's numbers glow'd with warm defire :
Both now are priz'd by few, unknown to most,
Because the thoughts are in the language loft;
Even Spenfer's pearls in muddy waters lie,
Yet foon their beams attract the diver's eye:
Rich was their imagery, till Time defac'd
The curious works; but Waller came at last.
Waller, the Mufe with heavenly verfe fupplies,
Smooth as the fair, and sparkling as their eyes;
"All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
"Attend his paffion, and approve his fong."
But when this Orpheus funk, and hoary age
Supprefs'd the lover's and the poet's rage,
To Granville his melodious lute she gave,
Granville, whofe faithful verfe is Beauty's flave;

}

Accept

Accept this gift, my favourite youth! the cry'd,
To found a brighter theme, and fing of Hyde;
Hyde's and thy lovely Myra's praife procl im,
And match Carlisle's and Sachariffa's fame.

O! would he now forfake the myrtle grove,
And fing of arms, as late he sung of love!
His colours and his hand alone should paint
In Britain's queen the warrior and the faint ;
In whom confpire, to form her truly great,
Wisdom with power, and piety with state.
Whilft from her throne the ftreams of justice flow,
Strong and ferene, to blefs the land below ;
O'er diftant realms her dreaded thunders roll,
And the wild rage of tyranny controul.

Her power to quell, and pity to redress,
The Maefe, the Danube, and the Rhine confefs;
Whence bleeding Iber hopes around his head
To fee fresh olive fpring, and plenty spread :
And whilft they found their great deliverer's fame,
The Seine retires, and fickens at her name.
O Granville! all these glorious scenes display,
Inftruct fucceeding monarchs how to sway;
And make her memory rever'd by all,

When triumphs are forgot, and mouldering arches faM.
Pardon me, friend! I own my Muse too free,

To write fo long on fuch a theme to thee:
To play the critic here---with equal right
Bid her pretend to teach Argyll to fight;
Inftruct th' unerring fun to guide the year,
And Harley by what schemes he ought to steer;

Give Harcourt eloquence t' adorn the seal,
Maxims of ftate to Leeds, to Beaufort zeal;
Try to correct what Orrery fhall write,
And make harmonious St. John more polite;
Teach law to Isla for the crown's fupport,
And Jersey how to ferve and grace a court;
Dictate soft warbling airs to Sheffield's hand,
When Venus and her Loves around him ftand;
In fage debates to Rochester impart

A fearching head, and ever faithful heart;
Make Talbot's finish'd virtue more complete,
High without pride, and amiably great,

Where nature all her powers with forture join'd,
At once to please and benefit mankind.

When cares were to my blooming youth unknown,
My fancy free, and all my hours my own;

I lov'd along the laureat grove to stray,
The paths were pleafant, and the prospect gay:
But now my genius finks, and hardly knows
To make a couplet tinkle in the close.
Yet when you next to Medway fhall repair,
And quit the town to breathe a purer air;
Retiring from the crowd to fteal the sweets
Of eafy life in Twyfden's calm retreats
(As Terence to his Lælius lov'd to come,
And in Campania fcorn'd the pomp of Rome);
Where Lambard, form'd for bufinefs, and to pleafe,
By sharing, will improve your happiness;

In both their fouls imperial reason fways,

In both the patriot and the friend displays;

Be lov'd, and prais'd by all, who merit love and praife.

With bright ideas there infpir'd anew,
By them excited, and inform'd by you,
I may with happier skill essay to fing
Sublimer notes, and strike a bolder string.

Languid and dull, when absent from her cave,
No oracles of old the Sibyl gave;

But when beneath her facred fhrine fhe ftood,
Her fury foon confefs'd the coming god;
Her breast began to heave, her eyes to roll,
And wondrous vifions fill'd her labouring foul.

SIR

To make a poem and a pill,

'Twas my misfortune t' other night,
To be tormented with a spright.
On either fide his head the hair
Seem'd bushing out, the top was bare;
His garb antique, but on his face
There reign'd a sweet majestic grace;
Of comely port, and in his hand
He decent wav'd a laurel-wand.

On the left foot (by which I found
His name was on the ftage renown'd)
A Sock of curious fhape he wore,
With myrtle foliage flourish'd o'er;
A purple Buskin grac'd the right,
And ftrong he ftep'd, yet lovely light.

Thy friendly care, he cry'd, I crave
To give me quiet in my grave:
Tryphon conftrains me from the dead,
A wizard whom I hate and dread;
By him to dangle on a poft,

I'm conjur'd up---" Alas, poor Ghost !"
A pendulum I there am made,

To move the leaden wheels of trade.
And while each little author struts

In calves-fkin gilt, adorn'd with cuts;
I, vouching, pafs 'em off as dear
As any staple-classick ware.

Peers, parfons, cits, a motly tribe,
Flock there to purchase, and fubscribe
While Tryphon, as the gudgeons bite,
Chuckles to fee them grow polite.
For ends thus infamously low,
It fure wou'd feem as a-propos,
For Dennis at his door to ftand,
With a good broomstick in his hand.
Then, fhould the chaps find ought amifs,
Or blame the price, the tragic Swiss
Might have his better parts employ'd,
To criticize them back and fide.

Or