 | Miscellanies in Prose and Verse |  |
141
A POEM on the Art of PRINTING.
Hail, sacred art, thou gift of heaven, design'd
T'impart the charms of wisdom to mankind,
To call forth learning from the realms of night,
And bid bright knowledge rise to public sight.
Th' immortal labours of old Greece and Rome,
By thee secured from fate, shall ever bloom,
To farthest times their lasting charms display,
Nor worn by age, nor subject to decay.
T'impart the charms of wisdom to mankind,
To call forth learning from the realms of night,
And bid bright knowledge rise to public sight.
Th' immortal labours of old Greece and Rome,
By thee secured from fate, shall ever bloom,
To farthest times their lasting charms display,
Nor worn by age, nor subject to decay.
By thee subdu'd, no longer ign'rance reigns,
Nor o'er the world her barb'rous power maintains:
Fair Science reassumes her ancient sway,
To her the nations their glad homage pay;
At length ev'n rude, unletter'd realms refine,
And the pale crescent now begins to shine.
Nor o'er the world her barb'rous power maintains:
Fair Science reassumes her ancient sway,
To her the nations their glad homage pay;
At length ev'n rude, unletter'd realms refine,
And the pale crescent now begins to shine.
Bless'd be the monarch who thy worth can prize,
And, spipte of superstition, dares be wise;
But doubly bless'd be he, whose happy thought
The rare invention into being brought.
Two rival artists this high honour claim;
(Noble the strife, when the reward is fame)
Each pleading right, the glorious prize demands;
In deep suspence, divided judgment stands,
On either side their forces take the field,
But neither conquers, nor will either yield:
Then let them both the common prize receive,
And Fust and Closters' names for ever live.
And, spipte of superstition, dares be wise;
But doubly bless'd be he, whose happy thought
The rare invention into being brought.
142
(Noble the strife, when the reward is fame)
Each pleading right, the glorious prize demands;
In deep suspence, divided judgment stands,
On either side their forces take the field,
But neither conquers, nor will either yield:
Then let them both the common prize receive,
And Fust and Closters' names for ever live.
| Miscellanies in Prose and Verse | |