Thou hast inspired me with thy soul, and I Who ne'er before could ken of poetry, Am grown so good proficient, I can lend A line in commendation of my friend. Yet 'tis but of the second hand; if ought...
Auspicious poet, wert thou not my friend, How could I envy, what I must commend! But since 'tis nature's law, in love and wit, That youth should reign, and withering age submit,...
The blast of common censure could I fear, Before your play my name should not appear; For 'twill be thought, and with some colour too, I pay the bribe I first received from you;...
Sure there's a fate in plays, and 'tis in vain To write, while these malignant planets reign. Some very foolish influence rules the pit, Not always kind to sense, or just to wit:...
Well, then, the promised hour is come at last, The present age of wit obscures the past: Strong were our sires, and as they fought they writ, Conquering with force of arms, and dint of wit:...
So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well The boding dream, and did the event foretell; Judged by the past, and drew the Parallel. Thus early Solomon the truth explored,...
'Tis hard, my friend, to write in such an age, As damns, not only poets, but the stage. That sacred art, by Heaven itself infused, Which Moses, David, Solomon have used, Is now to be no more: the Muses' foes...
As there is music uninform'd by art In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart, The birds in unfrequented shades express, Who, better taught at home, yet please us less:...
How bless'd is he who leads a country life, Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of strife! Who studying peace, and shunning civil rage, Enjoy'd his youth, and now enjoys his age:...
Once I beheld the fairest of her kind, And still the sweet idea charms my mind: True, she was dumb; for Nature gazed so long, Pleased with her work, that she forgot her tongue;...
When factious rage to cruel exile drove The queen of beauty,[1] and the court of love, The Muses droop'd, with their forsaken arts, And the sad Cupids broke their useless darts:...
Whether the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore, The seeds of arts and infant science bore, 'Tis sure the noble plant, translated first, Advanced its head in Grecian gardens nursed....
As seamen, shipwreck'd on some happy shore, Discover wealth in lands unknown before; And, what their art had labour'd long in vain, By their misfortunes happily obtain:...
Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think, and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine!...
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the blest; Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise,...
Three Poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England, did adorn. The first, in loftiness of thought surpass'd; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of nature could no further go;...
Oh, last and best of Scots! who didst maintain Thy country's freedom from a foreign reign; New people fill the land now thou art gone, New gods the temples, and new kings the throne....