id's_ numbers Sings?
Hark! how he Murmurs to the Fields and Groves,
His rural Pleasures, and his various Loves,
Yet every Line so Innocent and Clear,
_Hermits_ may read them to a Virgin's Ear.
Unstoln _Promethean_ Fire informs his Song,
Rich is his Fancy, his Invention strong.
His Wit, unfathom'd, has a fresh Supply,
Is always flowing-out, but never Dry.

Sure the profuseness of a boundless Thought,
Unjustly is imputed for a Fault.
A Spirit, that is unconfin'd and free,
Should hurry forward, like the Wind or Sea.
Which laughs at Laws and Shackles, when a Vain
Presuming _Xerxes_ shall pretend to Reign,
And on the flitting Air impose his pond'rous Chain.

Hail _English_ Swan? for You alone could dare
With well-pois'd Pinions tempt th' unbounded Air:
And to your Lute _Pindaric_ Numbers call,
Nor fear the Danger of a _threatned Fall_.
O had You liv'd to _Waller's_ Reverend Age,
Better'd your Measures, and reform'd your Page!
Then _Britain's_ Isle might raise her Trophies high,
And _Solid Rome_, or _Witty Greece_ outvy.
The _Rhine_, the _Tyber_, and _Parisian Sein_,
When e're they pay their Tribute to the Main,
Should no sweet Song more willingly rehearse,
Than gentle _Cowley's_ never-dying Verse.
The _Thames_ should sweep his briny way before,
And with his Name salute each distant Shore.

[_Milton._]

Then You, like Glorious _Milton_ had been known
To Lands which Conquest has insur'd our Own.
_Milton_! whose Muse Kisses th' embroider'd Skies,
While Earth below grows little, as She Flies.
Thro' trackless Air she bends her winding Flight,
Far as the Confines of retreating Light.
Tells the _sindg'd Moor_, how scepter'd Death began
His Lengthning Empire o'er offending Man.
Unteaches conquer'd Nations to Rebel,
By Singing how their Stubborn Parents fell.

Now _Seraphs_ crown'd with _Helmets_ I behold,
_Helmets_ of Substance more refin'd than Gold:
The Skies with an united Lustre shine,
And Face to Face th' Immortal Armies joyn.
God's _plated Son, Majestically gay_,
Urges his Chariot thro' the Chrystal-Way
Breaks down their Ranks, and Thunders, as he Flies,
Arms in his Hands, and Terrour in his Eyes.
O'er Heav'ns wide Arch the routed Squadrons Rore,
And transfix d Angels groan upon the _Diamond-Floor_.
Then, wheeling from _Olympus_ Snowy top,
Thro' the scorch'd Air the giddy Leaders drop
Down to th' A