Of these two Chiefs, the guardians of thy

name,

Confpire to raise thee to the point of fame. Ye Future Times, I heard the filver found! I faw the Graces form a circle round! Each, where fhe fix'd, attentive feem'd to root,

And all, but Eloquence herfelf, was mute. High o'er the rest I see the Goddess rife, Loofe to the breeze her upper garment flies:

By turns, within her eyes the Paffions burn, And fofter Paffions languifh in their turn: Upon her tongue Perfuafion, or Command; And decent Action dwells upon her hand. From out her breaft ('twas there the trea

fure lay)

She drew thy labours to the blaze of day. Then gaz'd, and read the charms fhe could

infpire,

[mire, And taught the lift'ning audience to adHow ftrong thy flight, how large thy grafp of thought, [wrought;

How just thy fchemes, how regularly How fure you wound when Ironies deride, Which must be seen, and feign to turn aside. 'Twas thus exploring fhe rejoic'd to fee Her brightest features drawn fo near by thee;

Then

Then here, the cries, let future ages dwell, And learn to copy where they can't excel, She fpake. Applaufe attended on the clofe :

Then Poefy, her fifter-art, arose;

Her fairer fifter, born in deeper ease,

Not made fo much for bus'nefs, more to please.

Upon her cheek fits Beauty, ever young; The Soul of Mufic warbles on her tongue; Bright in her eyes a pleafing Ardour glows, And from her heart the fweetest Temper flows:

A laurel-wreath adorns her curls of hair,
And binds their order to the dancing air:
She shakes the colours of her radiant wing,
And, from the Spheres, fhe takes a pitch
to fing.
[have hit
Thrice happy Genius his, whose Works
The lucky point of bus'nefs and of wit.
They feem like fhow'rs, which April
months prepare

To call their flow'ry glories up to air:
The drops defcending, take the painted bow,
And drefs with funshine, while for good
they flow.

To me retiring oft, he finds relief
In flowly-wafting care, and biting grief:

From

From me retreating oft, he gives to view What eases care and grief in others too. Ye fondly grave, be wife enough to know, "Life ne'er unbent were but a life of woe." Some full in ftretch for greatness, some for gain,

On his own rack each puts himself to pain. I'll gently fteal you from your toils away, Where balmy winds with scents ambrofial play;

Where, on the banks as crystal rivers flow, They teach immortal amarants to grow: Then, from the mild indulgence of the fcene,

Reftore your tempers ftrong for toils again. She ceas'd: Soft mufic trembled in the

wind,

And sweet delight diffus'd thro' ev'ry mind: The little Smiles, which ftill the Goddess

grace,

Sportive arofe, and ran from face to face. But chief (and in that place the Virtues blefs)

A gentle band their eager joys exprefs: Here Friendship afks, and Love of Merit

longs

To hear the Goddeffes renew their fongs;

Here

Here great Benevolence to Man is pleas'd; These own their Swift, and grateful hear him prais'd.

[part, You gentle band, you well may bear your You reign Superior Graces in his heart.

O SWIFT! if fame be life, (as well we know.

That Bards and Heroes have esteem'd it so) Thou canst not wholly die; thy works will fhine

To future times, and Life in Fame be thine.

Το

TO LORD HARLEY, fince Earl of OXFORD, on his MARRIAGE.

Written in the Year м DCC XIII.

AMONG the numbers who employ

Their tongues and pens to give you joy, Dear Harley, gen'rous Youth, admit What friendship dictates more than wit. Forgive me, when I fondly thought (By frequent observation taught) A fpirit fo inform'd as yours Could never prosper in amours.

The God of Wit, and Light, and Arts, With all acquir'd and nat'ral parts, Whofe harp could favage beasts enchant, Was an unfortunate gallant.

Had Bacchus after Daphne reel'd, [yield;
The Nymph had foon been brought to
Or, had Embroider'd Mars purfu'd,

The Nymph would ne'er have been a prude.
Ten thousand footsteps, full in view,
Mark out the way where Daphne flew.
For fuch is all the fex's flight,

They fly from learning, wit, and light :
They fly, and none can overtake
But fome gay coxcomb, or a rake.

How