eir Captive Sense?
Tho' _Edward_ and fam'd _Henry_ Warr'd in vain,
Subduing what they could not long retain:
Yet now beyond our Arms the Muse prevails,
And Poets Conquer where the Hero fails.

This does superiour excellence betray;
O could I Write in thy Immortal Way!
If Art be Nature's Scholar, and can make
Such vast improvements, Nature must forsake
Her Ancient Style; and in some grand Design
She must her Own Originals decline,
And for the Noblest Copies follow Thine.
Pardon this just transition to thy Praise,
Which Young _Thalia_ sung in Rural Lays.

As Sleep to weary Drovers on the Plain
As a sweet River to a thirsty Swain,
Such _Tityrus's_ charming Number show,
Please like the River, like the River flow.
When his first Years in mighty Order ran,
And cradled Infancy bespoke the Man,
Around his Lips the _Waxen Artists_ hung,
And drop'd ambrosial Dew upon his Tongue.
Then from his Mouth harmonious Numbers broke,
More sweet than Honey from a hollow Oke.
Pleasant as streams which from a Mountain Glide,
Yet lofty as the Top from whence they slide.

Long He possest th' Hereditary Plains,
Admir'd by all the Herdsmen and the Swains.
Till he resign'd his Flock, opprest with cares,
Weaken'd by num'rous Woes, and grey with Years.
Yet still, like _AEtna's_ _Mount_, he kept his Fire,
And look'd like beauteous Roses on a Brier.
He smil'd, like _Phoebus_ in a Stormy Morn,
And sung, like _Philomel_ against a Thorn.

Here _Syren of sweet Poesy_, receive
That little praise my unknown Muse can give.
Thou shalt immortal be, no Censure fear
Tho' angry _B----more_ in Heroicks jeer.

A Bard, who seems to challenge _Virgil's_ Flame,
And would be next in Majesty and Name.
With lofty _Maro_ he at first may please;
The Righteous _Briton_ rises by degrees.
But once on Wing, thro' secret Paths he rows,
And leaves his Guide, or follows him too close,
The _Mantuan_ Swan keeps a soft gentle Flight,
Is always Tow'ring, but still Plays in Sight.
Calm and Serene his Verse; his active Song
Runs smooth as _Thames's_ River, and as strong.
Like his own _Neptune_ he the Waves confines,
While _Bl----re_ rumbles, like the King of Winds.
His flat Descriptions, void of Manly Strength,
Jade out our Patience with excessive length.
While Readers, Yawning o'er his _Arthurs_ see
Whole Pages spun on one poor _Simile_.
We grant he