And give to future times a sweeter strain, Than Erin's harp may e'er resound again. The sacred few, whose just "applause is fame,” 945 So when the Sun, that blaz'd with noontide beam, Casts from the glowing West a parting gleam, 950 The wondering eye can ev'ry tint admire, Of equal splendor but diminish'd fire; And now, in confidence, the Orb explore, Whose dazzling rays it dar'd not meet before. If such were all, whose names untold remain, 955 The voice of censure would be heard in vain. But in the breasts of few this spirit lives, And isolated Genius scarce survives: While Dulness scatters wide her hundred arms, On downy pillows sheds her potent charms; 960 Treads in the forum, hovers round the throne, Press on my thoughts, and crowd upon my pen!- Nor darker Envy, forc'd upon the stage, Will keep my hard, rebellious spirit down, 970 Stay the rude laugh, and smooth the ruder frown: NOTES. Strange to relate, but wonderfully true, That even shadows have their shadows too! CHURCHILL, Of neither reason nor yet temper 'reft 975 By Barrett's nonsense, Grenville's daring theft, Forensic Wharton's eloquence debas'd, Coleman's lewd tale, or Scott's perverted taste. And mourn in silence o'er its hapless fall. Far, far from me, that cold, affected art, 985 990 Then, too, I hallow'd first th' Aonian Mount, 995 And quaffed delighted from the Muse's fount; To drown the World in one oblivious dream, Nor chast❜ning Heav'n, in wisdom, hath decreed NOTES. * An hour may come, so I delight to dream, Maviad. Shall dauntless mix among her willing foes, Yet, tho' her bounded pow'rs forbid to rise, And bear from older, wiser heads the prize, Pride shall restrain her from the humble group, And point to themes that Judgment may allow, 1010 This may be mine, ere age shall chill the fire, 1015, That, scarce repress'd, has ventur'd to aspire. NOTES. This anticipation may yet be verified; but Mr. Gifford should recollect the words of Young: -Life speeds away From point to point, tho' seeming to stand still. The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth, Too subtle is the movement to be seen; Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are golle, |