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Y Mufe, a bird of passage, flies
From frozen climes to milder skies; From chilling blasts the seeks thy chearing beam,
A beam of favour, bere deny’d;
Conscious of faults, her blushing pride
The warrior's ardent deeds to raise,
Thine is the drama, how renown'd!
Thine, Epic's loftier trump to found ;-
May that be found in Thee, Voltaire !
How will thy name illustrious raise
My sinking song ! Mere mortal lays, So patroniz'd, are rescued from the grave.
IV. " Tell
Annals of the Emperor Charles XII. Lewis XIV.
“ What stranger stray'd from yonder ille !"No stranger, Sir! though born in foreign climes ;
On Dorset downs, when Milton's page,
With Sin and Death, provok'd thy rage,
And gave thee clearly to descry
Who half inclin’d thee to confess,
Nor could thy modesty do less,
For ever set the suns that thone
How shortly shall we Both forget,
To thee my patron I my debt,
Full foon Mall sleep, as feeps the past;
The frowns and favours of the great ;
High-flush'd success, and pale defeat ; The Gallic gaiety, and British (pleen.