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To Mr. A. POPE, who correctedmy Verses.
It'er my humble Mufe melodious fings,
'Tis when you animate and tune her ftrings; If e'er She mounts, 'tis when you prune her wings. You, like the fun, your glorious beams display, Deal to the darkest orb a friendly ray, And cloathe it with the lustre of the day.
Mean was the piece, unelegantly wrought, The colours faint, irregular the draught; But your commanding touch, your nicer art, Rais'd every stroke, and brighten'd every part. So, when Luke drew the rudiments of man, An angel finish'd what the faint began ; His wondrous pencil, dipt in heavenly dyes, Gave beauty to the face, and lightning to the eyes. Confus'd it lay, a rough unpolish'd mass,
the royal stamp, and made it pass ; Hence ev'n deformity a beauty grew, She pleas'd, the charm'd, but pleas'd and charm'd by
Thus when the Nile diffus'd his watery train
But the great source and parent of the day,
Weak of herself, my Muse forbears her fight,
So the Cumxan prophetess was dumb, Blind to the knowledge of events to come;
ADDITION. To nobler themes thy Muse triumphant foars, Mounts through the tracts of air, and heaven explores. Say, has some seraph tun'd thy sacred lyre? Or deign'd to touch thy hallow'd lips with fire? For sure such sounds exalt th’immortal string, As heaven approves, and raptur'd angels ling. Ah! how I listen, while the mortal lay Lifts me from earth above the solar way! Ah! how I look with scorn on pompous crowns, And pity monarchs on their splendid thrones; While, thou my guide, I trace all nature's laws, By just gradations, to the sovereign cause ! Pleas'a i survey how varying schemes unite, Worlds with the atoms, angels with the mite, And end in God, high thrond above all height, Who sees, as Lord of all, with equal eye, Now a proud tyrant perish, then a fly. Methinks I view the patriarch's ladder rise, Its base on earth, its summit in the skies : Each' wondrous step by glorious angels trod, And heaven unfolding to the throne of God, Be this thy praise! I haunt the lovely bower, Sport by the spring, or paint the blooming flower, Nor dares the Mule attempt an arduous height, &c.
Tas some are proper ftal y TT of trgais,
Whez feat-d br Iriat in
His lys, and Asia's giary firs.
Will throng, to learn what pilor guides,
And curbs the murmuring rebai tiks.
That leads the great to deathless fame,
While Walpole is the favourite theme,
The stedfast arbiters of right
A loud applause around the echoing coast
Of all the pleas’d Elysium flies.-
When merit was the way to rise ?
Good heavens ! unable to reply,
An answer, good my lord, supply. •
ON A MISCHIEVOUS WOMAN.
And loves to hear the storm of anger rise;
THE COQUE TT E. SIILIA, with uncontested fway,
Like Rome's fam'd tyrant reigns ;
And heroes proud to wear her chains :
Attends each flatterer's vows;
A look on all that gaze bestows :
Being a Letter?) the try,
:47 , P *I jeta isoinsa niittiGimno,
tad arts 1,7 .,!l. Il ftit .au :
As come a gender, wika ns puntes