At Fancy's call, who rear the wanton fail,
Sport with the stream, and trifle in the gale: 480
Sublimer views thy daring Spirit bound;
Thy mighty Voyage was Creation's round;
Intent new Worlds of Wisdom to explore,
And bless Mankind with Virtue's facred store;
A nobler joy than Wit can give, impart; 485
And pour a moral transport o'er the heart.
Fantastic Wit shoots momentary fires,
And, like a Meteor, while we gaze, expires :
Wit kindled by the fulph'rous breath of Vice,
Like the blue Lightning, while it shines, destroys:
But Genius, fir’d by Truth's eternal ray, 491
Burns clear and constant, like the source of day :
Like this, its beam prolific and refin'd,
Feeds, warms, inspirits, and exalts the mind;
Mildly dispels each wintry Paffion's gloom, 495
And opens all the Virtues into bloom.
This Praise, immortal Pope, to thee be giv’n :
Thy Genius was indeed a Gift from Heav'n.
Hail, Bard unequal'd, in whose deathless line
Reason and Wit, with strength collected shine; 500
Where matchless Wit but wins the second praise,
Lost, nobly lost, in Truth's superior blaze,


Did FRIENDSHIP e'er mislead thy wand'ring

Muse? That Friendship fure may plead the great excuse: That facred Friendship which inspir’d thy Song, Fair in defect, and amiably wrong. 506 Error like this ev’n Truth can scarce reprove; 'Tis almost Virtue when it flows from Love.

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Ye deathless Names, ye Sons of endless praise, By Virtue crown'd with never-fading bays! 510 Say, shall an artless Muse, if you inspire, Light her pale lamp at your immortal fire? Or if, O WARBURTON, inspir’d by You, The daring Muse a nobler path pursue, By You inspir’d, on trembling pinion soar, 515 The sacred founts of social bless explore, In her bold numbers chain the Tyrant's rage, And bid ber Country's Glory fire her page: If such her fate, do thou, fair Truth, descend, And watchful guard her in an honest end: 520 Kindly severe, instruct her equal line To court no Friend, nor own a Foe but thine. But if her giddy eye should vainly quit Thy sacred paths, to run the maze of wit ;


If her apostate heart should e'er incline 525
To offer incense at Corruption's shrine;
Urge, urge thy pow'r, the black attempt confound,
And dash the smoaking Censer to the ground.
Thus aw'd to fear, instructed Bards may see,
That Guilt is doom'd to sink in Infamy. 530

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