OUR ftedfast bard, to his own genius true, Still bade his Muse, "fit audience find, though "few." Scorning the judgement of a trifling age, name. But now, his fame by every trumpet blown, Beheld; and made, what it beheld, his own. forth; And yours to vindicate neglected worth. Such heaven-taught numbers should be more than read, More wide the manna through the nation spread. Like fome bless'd spirit he to-night descends, Mankind he visits, and their steps befriends; Through mazy errour's dark perplexing wood, Points out the path of true and real good; Warns erring youth, and guards the spotless maid From spell of magick vice, by reason's aid. Dr. DALTON'S Prologue to Comus, 1738. YE patriot crowds, who burn for England's' fame, Ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at MILTON's name, Whose generous zeal, unbought by flattering rhymes, Shames the mean penfions of Auguftan times; Attend this prelude of perpetual praise ! That never Britain can in vain excell; The flighted arts futurity fhall trust, At length our mighty bard's victorious lays Unknown,-unheeded, long his offspring lay, NOR fecond HE that rode fublime Upon the seraph-wings of ecstasy; The fecrets of the abyss to spy, He pafs'd the flaming bounds of place and time: GRAY's Progress of Poesy. Ode on the Poetical Character. HIGH on fome cliff, to Heaven up-pil'd, On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung; Thither oft his glory greeting, From Waller's myrtle fhades retreating, With many a vow from Hope's afpiring tongue My trembling feet his guiding steps purfue; In vain : -Such blifs to one alone Of all the fons of Soul was known; And Heaven and Fancy, kindred Powers, Have now o'erturn'd the inspiring bowers, Or curtain'd clofe fuch scene from every future COLLINS. view. Ode to Memory. RISE, hallow'd MILTON! rife, and say, deprefs'd by age, beset with When "fall'n on evil days and evil tongues Say, what could then one cheering hope diffuse? Hence the rich spoils, thy ftudious youth Caught from the ftores of ancient Truth : Hence all thy bufy eye could pleas'd explore, When Rapture led thee to the Latian shore Each scene, that Tiber's bank supplied; Each grace, that play'd on Arno's fide; The tepid gales, through Tuscan glades that fly; The blue ferene, that spreads Hefperia's sky ; Were ftill thine own: Thy ample mind Each charm receiv'd, retain'd, combin'd. And thence the nightly Vifitant," that came To touch thy bofom with her facred flame, Recall'd the long-loft beams of grace; That whilom fhot from Nature's face, When God, in Eden, o'er her youthful breast Spread with his own right hand Perfection's gorgcous veft. VOL. I. MASON. C |