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Luxuriously fad, I'll see
With choicest garlands weekly dress'd.
Come, Memory, and with me go!
Affection's gentle hand thall strew:
Shall o'er the graves spontaneous fall;
And to each other grant us all.
From Cam's smooth margin, and the peaceful vale, Where Science call'd thee to her studious quire,
And met thee musing in her cloisters pale;
Breathe from his artlefs reed one parting lay:
And this let voluntary friendship pay.
When all those virtues, op'ning now fo fair, Transplanted to the world's tempestuous clime, Must learn each paßion's boist'rous breath to bear;
There, if Ambition, peftilent and pale,
Or Luxury should taint their vernal glow; , If cold self-intereft, with her chilling gale, , ,
Should blast th’unfolding bloffoms e'er they blow; If mimic hues, by Art or Fashion spread,
Their genuine fimple colouring fhould supply; O may with them these laureate bonours faile,
And with them (if it can) my friendthip die ! Then do not blame, if, though thyself inspire,
Cautious I strike the panegyric ftring The Mufe full oft pursues a meteor fire,
And vainly ventrons, foars on waxen wing: Too actively awake at Friendship's voice, siis
The Poet's bosom pours the fervent strain, , five Till fad Reflection blames the basty choice,
And oft invokes Oblivion's aid in vain.
Where thron'd he fits with many a tuneful sage;
When St. John's name illumin'd Glory's page. Aik, if the wretch who dar'd his mem'ry fiain;
A tk, if bis country's, his religion's foe, Deserv'd the meed that Malbro' fail'd to gain;
The deathless meed he only could beflow : The Bard will tell thee, the misguided praise
Clouds the celeliial sunshine of his breast;
He hcaves a sigh ainid the realms of rest.
Yet pity Dryden---hark, whene'er he fings,
How Adulation drops her courtly dew
On titled rhimers and inglorious kings! See from the depths of his exhaustless mine,
His glittring stores the tuneful spendthrift throws: Where fear or int'reft bids, beholds they shine ;
Now grace a Cromwell's now a Charles's brows. Born with too gen'rous or too mean a heart,
Dryden! in vain to thee those stores were lent;
Thy strongest diction idly eloquent.
Warbles a melody ne'er heard froin thine :
Was Paruells modeft tame, and inay be mine. Go then, iny friend, por let tħy candid breast
Condemn me, if I check the plausive (tring: Go to the wayward world; complete the rest;
Be what the purest Muse would with to finy. Be itill thyself: that open path of truth,
Which led thee here, let manhood firm pursuc;
And all thy virtue dictates, dare to do.
On Vice's front let fearful caution low'r ;
Of knaves that plot, and tools that fawn for pow's. So, round thy brow when Age's honours spread,
When Death's cold hand undrings thy Mafon's lyre,. When the green turf lies lightly on his head,
Thy worti finali fome superior bard inspire ;
He to the ampleft bounds of Time's domain
On Rapture's plume (hall give thy name to fly ;' For trust, with rev'rence trust, this Sabine strain,
“ The Muse forbids the virtuous man to die."
AH! ceafe this kind perfuafive strain,
Soft tinkling down the mofs-grown hill,
Say, from Amiation's various source
And cannot Fancy clear their course? • For Fancy is the friend of Woe.
Say, mid that grove, in love-lorn state,
And rufle round the lake below,
(As faintly Nath the light'ninys blue,) Thin Thiv'ring ghosts from yawning charnels throng, And glance with filent sweep the shaggy vaults along