25 The new Machines, in names of ridicule, In Fame's fair Temple, o'er the boldest wits 30 35 Parent of flowrets, old Arcadia, hail! 40 Here in the cool my limbs at ease I spread, Still slide thy waters, soft among the trees, Smile, all ye valleys, in eternal spring, 45 Be hush'd, ye winds, while Pope and Virgil sing. 50 Ver. 50. And flames] A very poor and unmeaning line, and unworthy the sensible and elegant Parnell! In all the Majesty of Greek retir'd, Himself unknown, his mighty name admir'd; How vast, how copious, are thy new designs! 65 How ev'ry Music varies in thy lines! Still as I read, I feel my bosom beat, And rise in raptures by another's heat. Thus in the wood, when summer dress'd the days, 70 76 This to my Friend-and when a friend inspires, My silent harp its master's hand requires; Shakes off the dust, and makes these rocks resound; For fortune plac'd me in unfertile ground; Far from the joys that with my soul agree, From wit, from learning-very far from thee. Here moss-grown trees expand the smallest leaf; Here half an acre's corn is half a sheaf; Here hills with naked heads the tempest meet, Rocks at their sides, and torrents at their feet; 80 Or lazy lakes unconscious of a flood, 85 90 T. PARNELL. TO MR. POPE. LET vulgar souls triumphal arches raise, 'Tis thine, on ev'ry heart, to grave thy praise, If aught on earth, when once this breath is fled, With human transport touch the mighty dead, Shakspeare, rejoice! his hand thy page refines; Now ev'ry scene with native brightness shines; 5 10 16 Ver. 17. thy page] This was a compliment our Author could not take much pleasure in reading; for he could not value himself on his edition of Shakspeare. Just to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought; 20 Thus when thy draughts, O Raphael! time invades, And the bold figure from the canvas fades, A rival hand recalls from every part 25 30 36 Some latent grace, and equals art with art; Transported we survey the dubious strife, While each fair image starts again to life. How long, untun'd, had Homer's sacred lyre Jarr'd grating discord, all extinct his fire? This you beheld; and taught by heav'n to sing, Call'd the loud music from the sounding string. Now wak'd from slumbers of three thousand years, Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears, Towr's o'er the field of death; as fierce he turns, Keen flash his arms, and all the Hero burns; • With martial stalk, and more than mortal might, He strides along, and meets the Gods in fight: Then the pale Titans, chain'd on burning floors, Start at the din that rends th' infernal shores, Tremble the tow'rs of Heav'n, earth rocks her coasts, And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts. To ev'ry theme responds thy various lay; Here rolls a torrent, there Meanders play; Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise; Toss the wild waves, and thunder in the skies; Or softer than a yielding virgin's sigh, The gentle breezes breathe away and die. 40 45 Thus, like the radiant God who sheds the day, 50 And while with ev'ry theme the verse complies, Sink without grov'ling, without rashness rise. Proceed, great Bard! awake th' harmonious string, Be ours all Homer! still Ulysses sing. The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. 55 60 Touch'd by your hand his manly frame improves 65 With grace divine, and like a god he moves. Ev'n I, the meanest of the Muses' train, Tun'd by your hand, and sing as you inspire: This labour past, of heav'nly subjects sing, 70 75 From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws : 80 |