410 'Tis done!-See, great ERASMUSs breaks the spell, And wounds triumphant Folly in her cell! (In vain the solemn cowl surrounds her face, Vain all her bigot cant, her sour grimace,) With shame compell'd her leaden throne to quit, And own the force of reason urged by wit. 'Twas then plain DONNE in honest vengeance rose, 415 His wit harmonious, though his rhyme was prose : 425 Yet scarce had SATIRE well relumed her flame, (With grief the Muse records her country's shame,) Ere Britain saw the foul revolt commence, And treacherous wit began her war with sense. Then rose a shameless mercenary train, Whom latest time shall view with just disdain ; A race fantastic, in whose gaudy line Untutor'd thought, and tinsel beauty shine; Wit's shatter'd mirror lies in fragments bright, Reflects not nature, but confounds the sight. Dry morals the court-poet blush'd to sing: 'Twas all his praise to say, the oddest thing. 430 Proud for a jest obscene, a patron's nod, To martyr virtue, or blaspheme his God. Ill-fated DRYDEN! who unmoved can see Th' extremes of wit and meanness join'd in thee! Flames that could mount, and gain their kindred skies, Low creeping in the putrid sink of vice; 435 A Muse whom wisdom woo'd, but woo'd in vain, More happy France: immortal BOILEAU there Supported Genius with a sage's care: Him with her love propitious SATIRE bless'd 445 But see at length the British Genius smile, Here Vice, dragg'd forth by Truth's supreme de cree, Beholds and hates her own deformity: While self-seen Virtue in the faithful line With modest joy surveys her form divine. 460 But oh, what thoughts, what numbers shall I find, Unless he dip his pencil in the ray? 465 Who paint a God, unless the God inspire? And bless mankind with virtue's sacred store; 485 And, like a meteor, while we gaze, expires; Feeds, warms, inspirits, and exalts the mind; This praise, immortal POPE, to thee be given; 495 Hail, bard unequall'd, in whose deathless line Reason and wit with strength collected shine; 500 Where matchless wit but wins the second praise, Lost, nobly lost, in truth's superior blaze, Did FRIENDSHIP e'er mislead thy wandering Muse? That friendship sure may plead the great excuse! That sacred friendship which inspired thy song, Fair in defect, and amiably wrong. Error like this even truth can scarce reprove; "Tis almost virtue when it flows from love. 510 515 Ye deathless names, ye sons of endless praise, By virtue crown'd with never-fading bays! Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire? Or if, O WARBURTON! inspired by You, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, By You inspired, on trembling pinion soar, The sacred founts of social bliss explore, In her bold numbers chain the tyrant's rage, And bid her country's glory fire her page; If such her fate, do thou, fair Truth, descend, And watchful guard her in an honest end; Kindly severe, instruct her equal line To court no friend, nor own a foe but thine. But if her giddy eye should vainly quit Thy sacred paths, to run the maze of wit; If her apostate heart should e'er incline To offer incense at corruption's shrine; 520 525 Urge, urge thy power, the black attempt confound, 530 |