As arts expir'd, refiftlefs Dulness rofe;
Goths, priests, or Vandals,-all were Learning's foes. 'Till Julius first recall'd each exil'd maid,
And Cofmo own'd them in th' Etrurian fhade:
Then deeply skill'd in love's engaging theme,
The foft Provencial pass'd to Arno's stream :
With graceful ease the wanton lyre he ftrung,
Sweet flow'd the lays-but love was all he fung.
The gay defcription could not fail to move;
For, led by nature, all are friends to love.
But heav'n, still various in its works, decreed
The perfect boaft of time fhould last fucceed.
The beauteous union must appear at length,
Of Tuscan fancy, and Athenian strength:
One greater Muse Eliza's reign adorn,
And ev❜n a Shakespear to her fame be born!
Yet ah! fo bright her morning's opening ray,
In vain our Britain hop'd an equal day!
No fecond growth the western isle could bear,
At once exhausted with too rich a year.
Too nicely Johnfon knew the critic's part;
Nature in him was almoft loft in art.
Of fofter mold the gentle Fletcher came,
The next in order, as the next in name.
With pleas'd attention 'midst his scenes we find
Each glowing thought, that warms the female mind
e Julius II. the immediate predecessor of Leo X.
Each melting figh, and every tender tear,
The lover's wishes and the virgin's fear.
His every strain the Smiles and Graces own;
But ftronger Shakespear felt for Man alone:
Drawn by his pen, our ruder passions stand
Th' unrival'd picture of his early hand.
• With gradual steps, and flow, exacter France
Saw Art's fair empire o'er her fhores advance:
By length of toil a bright perfection knew,
Correctly bold, and juft in all she drew.
'Till late Corneille, with Lucan's spirit fir'd,
Breath'd the free ftrain, as Rome and He infpir'd:
And claffic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine
The temp'rate ftrength of Maro's chafter line.
But wilder far the British laurel spread,
And wreaths lefs artful crown our poet's head.
Yet He alone to every scene could give
Th' hiftorian's truth, and bid the manners live.
Wak'd at his call I view, with glad furprize,
Majestic forms of mighty monarchs rise.
f Their characters are thus diftinguished by Dryden.
g About the time of Shakespear, the poet Hardy was in great repute in France. He wrote, according to Fontenelle, fix hundred plays. The French poets after him applied themselves in general to the correct improvement of the ftage, which was almost totally difregarded by thofe of our own country, Johnson excepted.
The favourite author of the elder Corneille,
There Henry's trumpets spread their loud alarms,
And laurel'd conqueft waits her hero's arms.
Here gentler Edward claims a pitying figh,
Scarce born to honours, and so soon to die!
Yet fhall thy throne, unhappy infant, bring
No beam of comfort to the guilty king:
The time i fhall come, when Glo'fter's heart fhall bleed
In life's laft hours, with horror of the deed:
When dreary vifions fhall at laft present
Thy vengeful image in the midnight tent,
Thy hand unfeen the fecret death shall bear,
Blunt the weak fword, and break th' oppreffive fpear.
Where'er we turn, by Fancy charm'd, we find
Some fweet illufion of the cheated mind.
Oft, wild of wing, fhe calls the soul to rove
With humbler nature, in the rural grovę ;
Where fwains contented own the quiet fcene,
And twilight fairies tread the circled green:
Drefs'd by her hand the Woods and Vallies smile,
And Spring diffusive decks th' inchanted isle.
O more than all in pow'rful genius bleft,
Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breast!
Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart fhall feel,
Thy fongs fupport me, and thy morals heal!
i Tempus erit Turno, magno cum optaverit emptum Intactum Pallanta, &c.
There every thought the poet's warmth may raife,
There native mufic dwells in all the lays.
O might some verse with happiest skill perfuade
Expreffive Picture to adopt thine aid!
What wond'rous draughts might rife from every page!
What other Raphaels charm a distant age!
Methinks ev'n now I view fome free design,
Where breathing Nature lives in every line:
Chafte and fubdu'd the modest lights decay,
Steal into fhades, and mildly melt away.
-And fee, where k Anthony in tears approv'd,
Guards the pale relics of the chief he lov'd:
O'er the cold corfe the warrior feems to bend :
Deep funk in grief, and mourns his murder'd friend!
Still as they prefs, he calls on all around,
Lifts the torn robe, and points the bleeding wound,
But who is he, whose brows exalted bear
A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air?
Awake to all that injur'd worth can feel,
On his own Rome he turns th' avenging steel,
Yet fhall not War's infatiate fury fall
(So heav'n ordains it) on the destin❜d wall.
See the fond mother 'midft the plaintive train
Hung on his knees, and proftrate on the plain!
See the Tragedy of Julius Cæfar.
1 Coriolanus, See Mr. Spence's dialogue on the Odyssey,
Touch'd to the foul, in vain he strives to hide
The fon's affection, in the Roman's pride:
O'er all the man conflicting paffions rise,
Rage grafps the fword, while Pity melts the eyes..
Thus, gen'rous Critic, as thy Bard inspires,
The fifter Arts fhall nurse their drooping fires;
Each from his scenes her ftores alternate bring,
Blend the fair tints, or wake the vocal ftring;
Thofe Sibyl-leaves, the sport of every wind,
(For poets ever were a careless kind).
By thee difpos'd, no farther toil demand,
But, juft to Nature, own thy forming hand.
So fpread o'er Greece, th' harmonious whole unknown,
Ev'n Homer's numbers charm'd by parts alone.
Their own Ulyffes fcarce had wander'd more,
By winds and water caft on every shore:
When rais'd by Fate, fome former HANMER join'd
Each beauteous image of the boundless mind:
And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claim
A fond alliance with the Poet's name.
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