f Thought pursues,
Rash Errours of an injudicious Muse.
Such Wit, like Lightning, for a while looks Gay,
Just gilds the Place, and vanishes away.
In one continu'd blaze He upwards sprung,
Like those _Seraphick_ flames of which He Sung.
If, _Cromwel_, he laments thy Mighty Fall
Nature attending Weeps at the _Great Funeral_.
Or if his Muse with joyful Triumph brings
the Monarch to His Ancient Throne, or Sings
_Batavians_ worsted on the Conquer'd Main,
Fleets flying, and advent'rous _Opdam_ Slain,
Then _Rome_ and _Athens_ to his Song repair
With _British_ Graces smiling on his Care,
Divinely charming in a Dress so Fair.
As Squadrons in well-Marshal'd order fill
The _Flandrian Plains_, and speak no vulgar Skill;
So Rank'd is every Line, each Sentence such,
No Word is wanting, and no Word's too much.
As Pearls in Gold with their own Lustre Shine,
The Substance precious, and the Work Divine:
So did his Words his Beauteous Thoughts inchase,
Both shone and sparkled with unborrow'd Grace,
A mighty Value in a little Space.
So the _Venusian Clio_ sung of Old,
When lofty Acts in well-chose Phrase he told.
But _Rome's_ aspiring _Lyrick_ pleas'd us less,
Sung not so moving, tho' with more Success.
O _Sacharissa_, what could steel thy Breast,
To Rob _Harmonious Waller_ of his Rest?
To send him Murm'ring thro' the _Cypress_-Grove,
In strains lamenting his neglected Love.
Th' attentive Forest did his Grief partake,
And Sympathizing Oaks their knotted Branches shake.
Each Nymph, tho' Coy, to Pity would incline;
And every stubborn Heart was mov'd, but Thine.
Henceforth be Thou to future Ages known;
Like _Niobe_, a Monument of Stone.

Here could I dwell, like Bees on Flowry Dew,
And _Waller's_ praise Eternally pursue,
Could I, like Him, in Harmony excel,
So sweetly strike the Lute, and Sing so Well.

But now the forward Muse converts her Eye
To see where _Denham_, and _Roscommon_ fly,
Cautiously daring, and correctly High.
Both chief in Honour, and in Learning's Grace,
Of Ancient Spirit, and of Ancient Race.
Who, when withdrawn from Business, and Affairs,
Their Minds unloaded of tormenting Cares,
With soothing Verse deceiv'd the sliding Time,
And, unrewarded, Sung in Noble Rhyme.
Not like those Venal Bards, who Write for Pence,
Above the Vulgar were their Names and Sense,
The _Critick_ judges what the _Muse_ indit