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At Fancy's call who rear the wanton fail, 475
all the Virtues into bloom. This Praise, immortal Pope, to thee be giv'n: Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heav'n. Hail, Bard unequal'd, in whose deathless line 495 Reason and Wit with strength collected shine ; Where matchless Wit but wins the second praise, Lost, nobly lost, in Truth's superior blaze.
Did FRIENDSHIP e'er mislead thy wand'ring Muse?
Ye deathless Names, ye Sons of endless praise, By Virtue crown'd with never-fading bays !
506 Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire ? Or if, O WARBURTON, inspir’d by You, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, 510 By You inspir’d, 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, 515 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
may That Guilt is doom’d to sink in Infamy.