An ardent judge, who zealous in his truft,
With warmth gives fentence, yet is always just;
Whofe own example strengthens all his laws,
And is himself that great Sublime he draws.
Thus long fucceeding Critics juftly reign'd,
Licence reprefs'd, and useful laws ordain'd.
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew,
And arts still follow'd where her Eagles flew.
From the fame foes, at last, both felt their doom,
And the fame age faw Learning fall, and Rome.
With tyranny, then fuperftition join’djm, yah
As that the body, this enflav'd the mind;
Much was believ'd, but little understood,
And to be dull was conftru'd to be good;
A fecond deluge learning thus o'er-run,
And the Monks finish'd what the Goths begun.
At length Erafmus, that great, injur'd name, (The glory of the Priesthood, and the fhame!) Stem'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age, T And drove thofe Holy Vandals off the stage.'] } But fee! each Mufe, in Leo's golden days,
Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays! Rome's
Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins fpread,
Shakes off the duft, and rears his rev'rend head!
Then Sculpture and her fifter-arts revive;
Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live;
With fweeter notes each rifing Temple rung;
A Raphael painted, and a * Vida fung!
Immortal Vida! on whofe honour'd brow
The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow:
Cremona now fhall ever boaft thy name,
As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!
But foon by impious arms from Latium chas'd,
Their ancient bounds the banish'd Mufes paft;
Thence arts o'er all the northern world advance ;
But critic learning flourish'd moft in France:
The rules, a nation born to serve, obeys ;
And Boileau ftill in right of Horace fways.
But we, brave Britons, foreign laws defpis'd,
And kept unconquer'd, and unciviliz❜d,
Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,
We still defy'd the Romans, as of old.
* M. Hieronymus Vida, an excellent Latin Poet, who writ an Art of Poetry in Verfe. He flourish'd in the time of Leo the Tenth.
Yet fome there were, among the founder few
Of those who lefs prefum'd, and better knew,......
Who durft affert the jufter ancient cause,
And here reftor'd Wit's fundamental laws
Such was the Mufe, whofe rules and practice tell,
Nature's chief mafter-piece is writing well.
Such was Roscommon----not more learn'd than good,
With manners gen'rous as his noble blood;
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known;
And ev'ry author's merit but his own.
Such late was Walsh,----the Mufe's judge and friend,
Who juftly knew to blame or to commend ;
To failings mild, but zealous for defert;
The cleareft Head, and the fincereft Heart.
This humble praife, lamented Shade! receive,
This praise at least a grateful Mufe may give!
The Mufe, whofe early Voice you taught to fing,
Prefcrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing,
(Her guide now loft) no more attempts to rife,
But in low numbers fhort excurfions tries:
Content, if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view,
The learn'd reflect on what before they knew:
Careless of Cenfure, nor too fond of Fame,
Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame;
Averse alike to flatter, or offend,
Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
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