Phoebus for this would change his Delphic grove,
Juno her Samos, and his Ida Jove.
Olympic games no longer fhould delight,
But neighb'ring plains afford a nobler fight.
Where England's great Æneas ftanding by,
Impatient youths on winged courfers fly :
Urg'd by his presence they outstrip the wind
Involv'd in fmoke, and leave the Mufe behind.
But fee! once more returns the rival train,
And now they stretch, now bending loofe the rein,
And fears and hopes beat high in ev'ry vein,
"Till one (long fince fuccefsful in the field)
Exerts that ftrength he first with art conceal'd;
Then swift as light'ning darted through the skies,
Springs forward to the goal, and bears away the prize.
By arts like these all other palms are won,
They end with glory, who with caution run.
We neither write, nor act, what long can last,
When the firft heat fees all our vigour past;
But, jaded, both their fhort-liv'd mettle lose,
The furious ftatefman, and the fiery Mufe.
The conteft ended, night with gloomy face
O'erfpreads the heav'n; and now with equal pace
The victor, and the vanquifh'd, quit the place:
Sleep's friendly office is to all the fame,
His conqueft he forgets, and they their shame.
Next morning, ere the fun with fickly ray
O'er doubtful shades maintains the dawning day,
The sprightly horn proclaims fome danger near,
And hounds, harmonious to the sportsman's ear,
With deep-mouth'd notes rouse up the trembling deer.
Startled he leaps afide, and lift'ning round,
This way and that explores the hostile found,
Arm'd for that fight, which he declines with shame,
Too fond of life, too negligent of fame ;
For Nature, to display her various art,
Had fortify'd his head, but not his heart:
Thofe fpears, which useless on his front appear'd,
any elfe had been ador'd and fear'd.
But honours difproportion'd are a load,
Grandeur a specious curfe, when ill bestow'd.
Thus void of hope, and panting with furprize,
In vain he'd combat, and as vainly flies.
Of paths myfterious whether to pursue
The scented track informs the lab'ring crew:
With speed redoubled, they the hint embrace,
Whilft animating mufic warms the chace:
Flush'd are their hopes, and with one gen❜ral cry
They echo thro' the woods, and found their conqueft nigh. Not fo the prey; he now for fafety bends
From enemies profess'd, to faithless friends,
Who to the wretched own no shelter due,
But fly more swiftly than his foes pursue.
This laft difgrace with indignation fires
Fiis drooping foul, and gen'rous rage infpires;
By all forfaken, he refolves at length
To try the poor remains of wafted ftrength;
With looks and mien majestic stands at bay,
And whets his horns for the approaching fray :
Too late alas! for, the first charge begun,
Soon he repents what cowardice had done,
Owns the mistake of his o'er-hafty flight,
And aukwardly maintains a languid fight;
Here, and there, aiming a fuccefslefs blow,
And only seems to nod upon the foe.
So coward princes, who at war's alarm
Start from their greatness, and themselves difarm,
With recollected forces ftrive in vain
Their empire, or their honour, to regain,
And turn to rally on some distant plain,
Whilft the fierce conqu'ror bravely urges on,
Improves th' advantage, and afcends the throne.
Forgive, great Denham, that in abject verse,
What richly thou adorn'ft, I thus rehearse.
Thy noble chace all others does exceed,
In artful fury, and well-temper'd speed.
We read with pleasure, imitate with pain,
Where faney fires, and judgment holds the rein.
Goddess, proceed; and as to relicks found
Altars we raise, and confecrate the ground,
Pay thou thy homage to an aged feat,
Small in itself, but in its owner great ;
Where Chaucer (facred name !) whole years employ'd,
Coy Nature courted, and at length enjoy'd;
Mov'd at his fuit, the naked goddess came,
Reveal'd her charms, and recompens'd his flame.`
Rome's pious king with like fuccefs retir'd,
And taught his people, what his Nymph infpir'd.
Hence flow descriptions regularly fine,
And beauties fuch as never can decline:
Each lively image makes the reader start,
And poetry invades the painter's art.
This Dryden faw, and with his wonted fate
(Rich in himself) endeavour'd to tranflate;
Took wond'rous pains to do the author wrong,
And fet to modern tune his ancient fong.
Cadence, and found, which we so prize, and use,
Ill fuit the majesty of Chaucer's Muse;
His language only can his thoughts express,
Old honeft Clytus fcorns the Perfian dress.
Inimitable bard!
In raptures loud I would thy praises tell,
And on th' inspiring theme for ever dwell,
Did not the maid, whose wond'rous beauty seen,
Inflam'd great Henry, and incens'd his queen,
With pleafing forrow move me to furvey
A neighb'ring ftructure, aweful in decay,
For ever facred, and in ruin blest,
Which heretofore contain❜d that lovely guest.
Admiring strangers, who attentive come
To learn the tale of this romantic dome,
By faithful monuments inftructed, view
(Tho' time should spare) what civil rage can do.
Where landskips once, in rich apartments high,
Through various prospects led the wand'ring eye:
Where painted rivers flow'd through flow'ry meads,
And hoary mountains rear'd their aweful heads :
Or where by hands of curious virgins wrought,
In rich array embroider'd heroes fought:
Now hemloek thrives, and weeds of pow'rful charms
O'er ragged walls extend their baleful arms.
Monsters obfcene their pois'nous roots invade,
And bloated pant beneath the gloomy shade.
Thus nobleft buildings are with ease effac'd,
And what's well wrote alone, will always last.
Ev'n Vanbrugh's frame, that does so brightly shine
In rules exact, and greatness of defign,
Would fall a victim to devouring age,
Had not that hand, which built, adorn'd the stage.
Wit fo refin'd without the poet's pain,
Such artful scenes in fuch a flowing vein,
O'er latest æras deathlefs will prevail,
When Doric and Corinthian orders fail;
When each proud pyramid its height foregoes,
And finks beneath the bafe on which it rose.
Ye British fair, whofe names but mention'd, give
Worth to the tale, and make the
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