ido

But O, how alter'd was its fprightlier tone!

When Chearfulness, a nymph of healthieft hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew,

Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket rung,

The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known;
The oak-crown'd Sifters, and their chaste-eyed
Satyrs and Sylvan boys were seen,

[queen,
Peeping from forth their alleys green ;

Brown Exercife rejoic'd to hear,

And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear.

Laft came Joy's ecstatic trial.

He with viny crown advancing,

Horn

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest,

Fute
No.

But foon he faw the brisk awakening viol,

Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best.

They would have thought, who heard the

ftrain,

They faw in Tempe's vale her native maids,
Amidst the festal founding fhades.

Solo

To fome unwearied minstrel dancing,

While, as his flying fingers kifs'd the strings,

Love fram'd with Mirth, a gay fantastic round,
Loose were her treffes feen, her zone unbound,
And he, amidst his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

O Mufic, sphere-descended maid,
Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid,
Why, Goddess, why to us denied?
Lay'ft thou thy ancient lyre afide?
As in that lov'd Athenian bower,
You learn'd an all-commanding power,
Thy mimic foul, O nymph endear'd,
Can well recall what then it heard.
Where is thy native fimple heart,

Devote to virtue, fancy, art?
Arife, as in that elder time,

Warm, energic, chaste, fublime!

Thy

t

Thy wonders, in that god-like age,

Fill thy recording Sifter's page

'Tis faid, and I believe the tale,
Thy humbleft reed could more prevail,
Had more of ftrength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age,
Even all at once together found
Cæcilia's mingled world of found-
O bid our vain endeavours cease,
Revive the juft defigns of Greece,
Return in all thy fimple state!

Confirm the tales her fons relate!

ADDRESSED TO SIR THOMAS HANMER, ON HIS EDITION OF SHAKESPEAR'S WORKS.

Hile born to bring the Mufe's happier

WH

days,

A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays,

While nurs'd by you she fees her myrtles bloom,
Green and unwither'd o'er his honour'd tomb:
Excufe her doubts, if yet fhe fears to tell
What fecret tranfports in her bosom swell:
With confcious awe she hears the critic's fame,
And blushing hides her wreath at Shakespear's

name.

Hard was the lot those injur'd strains endur'd,
Unown'd by science, and by years obscur'd:
Fair Fancy wept; and echoing fighs confefs'd
A fixt despair in every tuneful breast.
Not with more grief th' afflicted swains appear,
When wintry winds deform the plenteous year;
When lingering frofts the ruin'd feats invade
Where Peace reforted, and the Graces play'd.

Each

Each rifing art by just gradation moves, Toil builds on toil, and age on age improves: The Mufe alone unequal dealt her rage,

And grac'd with nobleft pomp her earliest stage. Preferv'd thro' time, the speaking scenes impart Each changeful wish of Phædra's tortur'd heart: Or paint the curse, that mark'd the * Theban's reign,

A bed incestuous, and a father flain.

With kind concern our pitying eyes o'erflow, Trace the fad tale, and own another's woe.

To Rome remov'd, with wit secure to please, The comic fifters kept their native ease. With jealous fear declining Greece beheld Her own Menander's art almoft excell'd! But every Mufe effay'd to raife in vain Some labour'd rival of her tragic ftrain; Ilyffus' laurels, though transferr'd with toil,

Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th' unfriendly

foil.

*The Oedipus of Sophocles.

As