 | The Works of Mr. Henry Needler |  |
35
TO THE Earl of Roscommon;
Occasion'd by his Essay on Translated Verse. From the Latin of Mr. Charles Dryden.
That happy Britain boasts her tuneful Race,
And Laurel Wreaths her peaceful Temples grace,
The Honour and the Praise is justly due,
To You alone, Illustrious Earl! to You.
For soon as Horace with his artful Page,
By Thee explain'd, had taught the list'ning Age;
Of brightest Bards arose a skilful Train,
Who sweetly sung in their Immortal Strain.
No more content great Maro's Steps to trace,
New Paths we search, and tread unbeaten Ways.
Ye Britons then triumphantly rejoice;
And with loud Peals and one consenting Voice,
Applaud the Man, who does unrivall'd sit,
The Sov'reign-Judge and Arbiter of Wit!
And Laurel Wreaths her peaceful Temples grace,
The Honour and the Praise is justly due,
To You alone, Illustrious Earl! to You.
For soon as Horace with his artful Page,
By Thee explain'd, had taught the list'ning Age;
Of brightest Bards arose a skilful Train,
Who sweetly sung in their Immortal Strain.
No more content great Maro's Steps to trace,
New Paths we search, and tread unbeaten Ways.
Ye Britons then triumphantly rejoice;
And with loud Peals and one consenting Voice,
Applaud the Man, who does unrivall'd sit,
The Sov'reign-Judge and Arbiter of Wit!
36
For, led by Thee, an endless Train shall rise
Of Poets who shall climb Superior Skies;
Heroes and Gods in Worthy Verse shall sing,
And tune to Homer's Lay the lofty String.
Of Poets who shall climb Superior Skies;
Heroes and Gods in Worthy Verse shall sing,
And tune to Homer's Lay the lofty String.
Thy Works too,
Sov'reign Bard! if right I see,
They shall translate with Equal Majesty;
While with new Joy, thy happy Shade shall rove
Thro' the blest Mazes of th' Elysian Grove,
And wond'ring, in Britannia's rougher Tongue
To find thy Heroes and thy Shepherds sung,
Shall break forth in these Words: “Thy favour'd Name,
“Great Heir and Guardian of the Mantuan Fame!
“How shall my willing Gratitude pursue
“With Praises large as to thy Worth are due?
“Tho' tastless Bards, by Nature never taught,
“In wretched Rhymes disguise my genuine Thought;
“Tho' Homer now the Wars of Godlike Kings,
“In Ovid's soft enervate Numbers sings;
“Tuneful Silenus, and the Matchless Verse
“That does the Birth of Infant Worlds rehearse,
“Atones for All: By that, my rescu'd Fame
“Shall vie in Age with Nature's deathless Frame;
“By Thee the learned Song shall nobly live,
“And Praise from ev'ry British Tongue receive.
They shall translate with Equal Majesty;
While with new Joy, thy happy Shade shall rove
Thro' the blest Mazes of th' Elysian Grove,
And wond'ring, in Britannia's rougher Tongue
To find thy Heroes and thy Shepherds sung,
Shall break forth in these Words: “Thy favour'd Name,
“Great Heir and Guardian of the Mantuan Fame!
“How shall my willing Gratitude pursue
“With Praises large as to thy Worth are due?
“Tho' tastless Bards, by Nature never taught,
“In wretched Rhymes disguise my genuine Thought;
“Tho' Homer now the Wars of Godlike Kings,
“In Ovid's soft enervate Numbers sings;
37
“That does the Birth of Infant Worlds rehearse,
“Atones for All: By that, my rescu'd Fame
“Shall vie in Age with Nature's deathless Frame;
“By Thee the learned Song shall nobly live,
“And Praise from ev'ry British Tongue receive.
“Give to thy daring Genius then the Rein,
“And freely launch into a bolder Strain,
“Nor with these Words my happy Spirit grieve;
“ The last good Office of thy Friend receive.
“And freely launch into a bolder Strain,
“Nor with these Words my happy Spirit grieve;
“ The last good Office of thy Friend receive.
“On the firm Base of thine Immortal Lays,
“A nobler Pile to thy lov'd Maro raise;
“My Glory by thy Skill shall brighter shine,
“With Native Charms and Energy Divine!
“Britain with just Applause the Work shall read,
“And crown with fadeless Bays thy Sacred Head.
“Nor shall thy Muse the Graver's Pencil need,
“To draw the Heroe on his prancing Steed;
“Thy living Verse shall paint th' imbattled Hoast,
“In bolder Figures than his Art can boast.
“While the low Tribe of Vulgar Writers strive,
“By mean false Arts to make their Versions live,
“Forsake the Text, and blend each Sterling Line,
“With Comments foreign to my true Design;
“My latent Sense thy happier Thought explores,
“And Injur'd Maro to himself restores.
“A nobler Pile to thy lov'd Maro raise;
“My Glory by thy Skill shall brighter shine,
“With Native Charms and Energy Divine!
“Britain with just Applause the Work shall read,
“And crown with fadeless Bays thy Sacred Head.
“Nor shall thy Muse the Graver's Pencil need,
“To draw the Heroe on his prancing Steed;
38
“In bolder Figures than his Art can boast.
“While the low Tribe of Vulgar Writers strive,
“By mean false Arts to make their Versions live,
“Forsake the Text, and blend each Sterling Line,
“With Comments foreign to my true Design;
“My latent Sense thy happier Thought explores,
“And Injur'd Maro to himself restores.
| The Works of Mr. Henry Needler | |