Now rival wifdom dares the wreath divide,
And both Minervas rife in equal pride;
Proclaiming loud, a monarch fills the throne,
Who fhines illuftrious not in wars alone.

Let fame look lovely in Britannia's eyes;
They coldly court defert, who fame despise.
For what 's ambition, but fair virtue's fail?
And what applause, but her propitious gale?
When fwell'd with that, the fleets before the wind
To glorious aims, as to the port defign'd;
When chain'd, without it, to the labouring oar,
She toils! the pants! nor gains the flying shore,
From her fublime purfuits, or turn'd aside
By blafts of envy, or by fortune's tide:
For one that has fucceeded ten are loft,
Of equal talents, ere they make the coaft.
Then let renown to worth divine incite,
With all her beams, but throw thofe beams aright.
Then merit droops, and genius downward tends,
When godlike glory, like our land, defcends.
Custom the garter long confin'd to few,
And gave to birth, exalted virtue's due :
Walpole has thrown the proud enclosure down;
And high defert embraces fair renown.
Though rival'd, let the peerage fmiling fee
(Smiling, in juftice to their own degree,)

This proud reward by majefty beftow'd

On worth like that whence firft the peerage flow'd.
From frowns of fate Britannia's blifs to guard,
Let fubjects merit, and let kings reward,

Gods are moft Gods by giving to excel,

And kings most like them, by rewarding well. Though ftrong the twanging nerve, and drawn aright, Short is the winged arrow's upward flight;

But if an eagle it transfix on high,

Lodg'd in the wound, it foars into the sky.

Thus while I fing thee with unequal lays,
And wound perhaps that worth I mean to praise;
Yet I tranfcend myself, I rife in fame,

Not lifted by my genius, but my theme.

No more: for in this dread fuspense of fate,
Now kingdoms fluctuate, and in dark debate
Weigh peace and war, now Europe's eyes are bent
On mighty Brunswick, for the great event,
Brunswick of kings the terror or defence !
Who dares detain thee at a world's expence ?

AN

"Parnaffia laurus “Parva sub ingenti matris se subjecit umbra." VIRG,

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AN EPISTLE

то

LORD LANSDOWN E.

W

HEN Rome, my Lord, in her full glory fhone, And great Augustus rul'd the globe alone, While fuppliant Kings in all their pomp and state, Swarm'd in his courts, and throng'd his palace gate; Horace did oft' the mighty man detain,

And footh'd his breaft with no ignoble strain;
Now foar'd aloft, now struck an humbler string;
And taught the Roman genius how to fing.
Pardor, if I his freedom dare purfue,

Who know no want of Cæfar, finding you;
The Mufe's friend is pleas'd the Muse should prefs
Through circling crouds, and labour for access,
That partial to his darling he may prove,
And fhining throngs for her approach remove,
To all the world industrious to proclaim
His love of Arts, and boaft the glorious flame,
Long has the western world, reclin'd her head,
Pour'd forth her forrow, and bewail'd her dead;
Fell difcord through her borders fiercely rang'd,
And fhook her nations, and her monarchs chang'd;
By land and fea its utmost rage employ'd;
Nor heaven repair'd fo faft as men destroy'd.
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In.