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Soon as the hero, by his martial strains,
Had kindled virtue in their frozen veins :
Afresh the warlike spirit grows,

Like flame, the brave contagion ran;
See in each sparkling eye it glows,

And catches on from man to man!
'Till rage in every breast to fear succeed;
And now they dare, and now they wish to bleed!


With different movements fraught were Maro's lays,
Taught flowing grief, and kind concern to raise :
He sung Marcellus' mournful name!

In beauty's, and in glory's bloom,
Torn from himself, from friends, from fame,

And rapt into an early tomb !

sung ; and sorrow stole on all, And sighs began to heave, and tears began to fall !

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But Rome's high empress felt the greatest smart,
Touch'd both by nature, and the poet's art:
For as he sung the mournful strain,

So well the hero's portraiture he drew,
She saw him sicken, fade again,

And in description bleed anew.
Then pierc'd, and yielding to the melting lay,
She sigh’d, she fainted, sunk, and died away.

Thus numbers once did human breasts control.
Ah! where dwells now such empire o'er the soul ?

Transported by harmonious lays,

The mind is melted down, or burns: With joy o'er Windsor forest strays,

Or grieves when Eloisa mourns : Still the same ardor kindles ev'ry line, And our own Pope is now what VIRGIL was, divine.

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Happy the babe whose natal hour

The Muse propitious deigns to grace,
No frownis on his soft forehead low'r,

No cries distort his tender face;
But o'er her child, forgetting all her pangs,
Insatiate of her smiles, the raptur'd parent hangs.


Let statesmen on the sleepless bed

The fate of realms and princes weigh,
While in the agonizing head

They form ideal scenes of sway;
Not long, alas ! the fancied charms delight,
But melt, like spectre forms, in silent shades of night.


Ye heavy pedants, dull of lore,

Nod o'er the taper's livid flame ;
Ye misers, still increase your store ;

Still tremble at the robber's name:

Or shudd’ring from the recent dream arise,
While visionary fire glows dreadful to your eyes.


Far other joys the Muses show'r,

Benignant, on the aching breast;
'Tis theirs, in the lone, cheerless hour,

To lull the lab’ring heart to rest :
With brightning calms they glad the prospect drear,
And bid each groan subside, and dry up every tear.

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From earthly mists, ye gentle Nine !

Whene'er you purge the visual ray,
Sudden the landscapes fairer shine,

And blander smiles the face of day ;
Er'n Chloe's lips with brighter vermil glow,
And on her youthful cheek the rose-buds fresher blow.


When Boreas sounds his fierce alarms,

And all the green-clad nymphs are fled,
Oh! then I lie in Fancy's arms,

On fragrant May's delicious bed ;
And through the shade, slow-creeping from the dale,
Feel on my drowsy face the lily-breathing gale.


Or on the mountain's airy height

Hear Winter call his howling train,
Chas’d by the Spring and Dryads light,

That now resume their blissful reign:

While smiling Flora binds her Zephyr's brows
With every various flow'r that Nature's lap bestows.


More potent than the Sibyl's gold

That led Aeneas' bold emprize,
When you, Calliope, unfold

Your laurel branch, each phantom flies!
Slow Cares with heavy wings beat the dul) air,
And Dread, and pale-ey'd Grief, and Pain, and black


With you Elysium's happy bow'rs,

The mansions of the glorious dead,
I visit oft, and cull the flow'rs

That rise spontaneous to your tread;
Such active virtue warms that pregnant earth,
And heav'n with kindlier hand assists each genial birth.


Here oft I wander through the gloom,

While pendent fruit the leaves among
Gleams through the shade with golden bloom,

Where lurk along the feather'd throng,
Whose notes th' eternal spring unceasing cheer,
Nor leave in mournful silence half the drooping year.


And oft I view along the plain

With slow and solemn steps proceed
Heroes and chiefs, an awful train,

And high exalt the laurellid head;

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