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Chiefs, by whose Virtue mighty Rome was rais'd*
And Poets, who those chiefs sublimely prais'd!
Oft I the traces you have left explore,
Your ashes visit, and 'your urns adore;
Oft kiss, with lips devout, some mould'ring stone,
With ivy's venerable shade o'ergrown; 40

Those hallow'd ruins better pleas'd to see
Than all the pomp of modern Luxury.

As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I strow'd,
While with th'inspiring Muse my bosom glow'd,
Crown'd with eternal bays my ravim'd eyes 45
Beheld the Poet's awful Form arise:
Stranger, he said, whose pious hand has paid
These grateful rites to my attentive shade,
When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air,
To Pope this message from his Master bear: 50

Great Bard, whose numbers I myself inspire,
To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre,
If high exalted on the Throne of Wit,
Near Me and Homer thou aspire to sit,
No more let meaner Satire dim the raya 55

That flow majestic from thy nobler Bays;
In all the flow'ry paths of Pindus stray,
But shun that thorny, that unpleasing way;

Nor, when each soft engaging Muse is thine, Address the least attractive of the Nine. 60

Of thee more worthy were the task, to raise A lasting Column to thy Country's Praise, To sing the Land, which yet alone can boast That Liberty corrupted Rome has lost; Where Science in the arms of Peace is laid, 65 And plants her Palm beneath the Olive's shade. Such was the Theme for which my lyre I strung, Such was the People whose exploits I fung; Brave, yet refin'd, for Arms and Arts renown'd, With difPrentbaysby Mars and Phœbus crown'd, Dauntless opposers of Tyrannic Sway, But pleas'd, a mild Augustus to obey.

If these commands submissive thou receive,
Immortal and unblam'd thy name mail live;
Envy to black Cocytus mail retire, j$

And howl with Furies in tormenting fire;
Approving Time shall consecrate thy Lays,
And join the Patriot's to the Poet's Praise.

GEORGE LYTTELTON.

PASTORALS,

. WITH A

Discourse on Pastoral.

Written in the Year Mdcciv;

Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, Flumina amem, sylvasque, inglorius! Vine*

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