To give to nature all the force of art, And while it charms the ear to mend the heart. Thornton, to thee, I dare with truth commend Shall they, who trace the passions from their rise, Shew scorn her features, her own image vice? Who teach the mind its proper force to scan, And hold the faithful mirror up to man. Shall their profession e'er provoke disdain, Who stand the foremost in the mortal train; Who lend reflection all the grace of art, And strike the precept home upon the heart? 20 Yet, hapless Artist! tho' thy skill can raise And latest times th' eternal nature feel. Tho' blended here the praise of bard and play'r, While more than half becomes the actor's share,ig. Relentless death untwists the mingled fame, The mien that gave each sentence strength and grace, EPISTLE X. TO THE CELEBRATED BEAUTIES OF THE BRITISH COURT. Occasioned by the Author's being suspected of writing the Poem under that title. WHY with such freedom should the town accuse, What moderate tongue would vulgar things rehearse, Epist. X. EPISTLES CRITICAL, &c. ނ 20 Looks like the fop that courts a paltry dame, To youth alone that heavenly grace belongs, 119 None but the young are fair, and truly worthy songs. Ye Female Glories, which exalt our isle, Vouchsafe th' auspicious influence of your smile;/30 To You I call, to you, ye matchless lights, Inspire my numbers, and improve my flights; Lest I depress your fame with languid lines, And pay unhallow'd vows at sacred shrines. Would you, ye Powers, but look serenely down, I'd soar aloft, and blazon your renown; Then something so divine might raise my voice, And make me scarce inferior to my choice; What ancient story tells the world should scorn, And every Goddess deem in glorious Britain born. -440 Begin, my Muse, begin with Marlborough's race: When Valor's sung, the Father claims the place; And sure when Beauty's power employs our flight, The shining Daughters challenge foremost right. A SUNDERLAND the coldest Writer warms, So turn'd for conquest, so compleat in charms, There seems detraction in our highest praise, She leaves the Muse behind, and mocks our distant lays. Not thus Minerva, though a Goddess, shone. O! had her eyes such dazling lustre thrown, Nor sought another sun, nor fallen a vulture's prey. Could Nature's self her own first form express, She'd charm the world in bright MONTHERMER'S dress: Gods! what engaging bloom sits smiling there!___ Her shape, her gesture, all the Nymph, subdues, choose. Had Love's fair Goddess been so strong in charms, Rash Diomede had dropt his venturous arms; bo No shameful victory the Greek had won, But thousand wounds receiv'd, instead of giving one. Splendor and softness in BRIDGEWATER meet, There mild appears an attribute with great ; Such humble sweetness gives a dawn of joy, She seems, like Heaven, unwilling to destroy. Who would not serve, where such a victor reigns? What freedom equal to such gentle chains? But soon, too soon, mistaken mortals know, |