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Driven from his throne in dens to pass the day,
To herd with wolves, and howl the night away.

So wild Lycaon fled his own abode,
Chang'd by the vengeance of an angry God,
On shaggy feet ran howling through the plain,
And mingled nightly with the prowling train.

Here let the Muse a while delighted rest,
Pleas'd with the prospect opening in her breast;
The wide horizon and the world survey,
As through the walks her fancy loves to stray.

Invention! ah, how beautiful art thou! I feel thy sudden inspiration now:

Thy whispers prompt me, and the pleasing strife
Of infant thought just struggling into life :
The new-born offspring longs to try its feet,
And runs through verse with voluntary heat:
This was the Nymph that did wise Numa please,
And this the Genius of great Socrates.

Like some smooth mirror, see Euphrates glide Through Duras' plains, and spreads his bosom wide; On whose broad surface watery landskips lie, And bending willows shade the downward sky: There floating forests mix'd with meadows move, And the green glass reflects the flowers above; Shepherds and sheep along the picture stray,

And with the water seem to slide away:

In the blue gleam, the park and walls appear,
And gilded barges, mix'd with grazing deer ;
The huntsman sounds-the frighted shadow flies,
Thro' flocks, greens, shepherds, barges, hounds, and

Thus in a room, where light can only pass Through the small circle of a convex-glass; O'er the stain'd sheet amusing shadows slide, Clouds float in air, and ships along the tide : In rural posture fields and oxen show, Trees wave, streams run, and color'd blossoms glow.

'Tis thus when Spring's soft vernal blooms appear, And throw a glory round the youthful year; Or summer blazing o'er the heavenly blue, When swarming insects dip their wings in dew: In Autumn too, the same mild scene delights, To view the water, and enjoy the nights; Nor less loud Winter wilder bliss denies, When Boreas bids the broad Euphrates rise: Then peaceful images amuse no more, But through the bridge the sounding surges roar, Wide dashing, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore, The distant billow seems the heavens to lave, And the horizon stoops to drink the wave.

So the loud Euxine, whose compulsive sway Ne'er yet knew ebb or swift reflux of sea,

Rolls on eternal, and directly beats
Against black Bosphorus' tempestuous streights;
The Dardanells behold its louring front,
Gloom the Propontic, and the Hellespont.

Now swell your style, and let the flood conform,
To the rouz'd tempest, and the roaring storm;
In verse as rough let every torrent move,
Froth the vex'd waves, and curl their head above;
Let the green tide turn white with abrupt shock,
And break the salt surge on the rugged rock:
Not so where mazy rills meandering shine,
The running silver trickles through the line;
In smoother notes the whispering waters purl,
The brook falls tuneful, and the waves uncurl;
Hence images of different kinds abound,
In all the vollubility of sound,

Applied to subjects, corresponding flow,
Some loudly rough, and others sweetly low.
Hence various styles appear in war, and peace,
And every style has its peculiar grace;

In epics here a hero strides away,
And there Amyntor tunes his oaten lay,
While o'er the lawn the lambkins frisk along,
And with their bleatings fill the rural song;
Or when still evening reddens o'er the sky,
It bids her blushes round the welkin fly;
In each soft cloud some color is express'd,
Till with united glories burns the West:
Then swarm the flies, the tinsel'd people run,

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To bid adieu to the departing sun:
With airy music sip the milky streams,
And gild their coats in light's declining beams;
Add that at eve cool Zephyr wakes the breeze,
And sits in sighs upon the shivering trees;
Add that at eve Etesian breezes wake,

With coming gales the leaves are seen to shake,
Still trembling onward with th' approaching blast,
Till on the dimply pool it breathes at last,
Before the wind the water curls in rings,
And the fann'd ocean frowns beneath his wings:
Hence lyrics make the fields and swains rejoice,
Or elegy lifts up her mournful voice;
The buskin'd hero treads the crowded stage,
Or comic humor smiles along the page;
There Athens' friend Themistocles appears,
And Cato glorious in his country's tears;
Thy lips, Timoleon, seal thy brother's doom,
And Brutus bleeds in both his sons for Rome:
Varanes there admires the bloody sign,
Hung o'er the head of kneeling Constantine;
On Cannae's field see Paulus bath'd in gore,
And Caesar pass the Rubicon once more.

Thus he to whom the tuneful charms belong
Of sacred numbers, and harmonious song;
Whom Paean's art did at his birth inspire
With a sweet finger for the Muse's lyre;
To whom the gift of genius fate has given,
That golden blessing of indulgent heaven;

Must study music to improve his art,

And through the ear find entrance to the heart;
While art and nature equally unite,

Sound smooth the sense, and grace make wit polite.
His easy lines unlabor'd seem to flow,

Yet such that ease as pains alone bestow ;
While the fond reader, charm'd with every strain,
Snatches a quill to imitate in vain.

Next it were fit that Picture claim'd his care, A well-bred man should every science share; From hence what beauties may not poets take? Hence learn a verse to paint the rattling snake: Through the gilt page he twists in color'd lines, And round the leaf in curling volumes twines; The reader thinks he sees the serpent slide, And almost feels him through his fingers glide,

Let Helen's beauty kindle sweet desire,
In Zeuxis' colors, and with Homer's fire;
Compare them both, and miss no single charm,
But let each blush in equal spirit warm :
The fine complexion let the Graces spread,
And Paestan roses paint her cheek with red,
While Venus bids her airs around her play,
And Phoebus fills her eyes with tender day.

But Thornhill's draughts shall future hints supply, As long as Kensington with Greenwich vie; Where round her roof a thousand colors glow,

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