University of Virginia Library

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162

To Mr. HEDGES,

On Reading his Latin Ode to Dr. Broxholme.

Here I might shew, from wise Example,
In Work elaborate and ample,
That Homer, tho' he writ in Greek,
Writ what his Mother taught him speak;
Horace and Virgil's learned Latin,
Was what, when Boys, they us'd to prate in.

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163

That all fam'd Bards, except the Dutch,
(If there were ever any such)
Have writ the Poems, they excel in,
In the same Tongue they learn'd to spell in.

Many a Lad returns from School,
A Latin, Greek, and Hebrew Fool;
In Arts and Knowledge still a Block,
Tho' deeply skill'd in Hic, Hæc, Hoc.
Heavy they tread the up-hill Way,
O'er craggy Rocks, and found'ring Clay,
Till weary with their Road, they stop
Just at the Mountain's lofty Top;

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164

Still poring on the barren Ground,
View not the beauteous Prospect round;
Which, hid beneath the Summit, lies
Conceal'd from low, and vulgar Eyes,
And which alone can amply Pay
The Toil and Drudgery of the Way:
From hence, they might, with Transport view
All that the antient Sages knew;
What they perform'd, and what they Thought,
How Tully spoke, and Cæsar fought;
What Manners of a World unknown
Should guide their Youth, and form their own;
What bright Examples lead to Fame,
And Vicious teach to fly their Shame.

Yet we might spare the mighty Pains
In searching ancient dark Remains;
Since greater Worthies rise at Home,
And Britain scorns to yield to Rome.

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165

Augustus' Reign, renown'd for Peace,
For Learning, Wit, and Wealth's Increase;
No more we Envy, while our Land
Is doubly bless'd from George's Hand.
Ammon's Success, and Cæsar's Mind,
To form victorious Marlbro', join'd;
Demosthenes', and Tully's Fame,
Must yield to Walpole's greater Name;
Faction, and Strife, to hear his Voice,
Are dumb, and cease their jarring Noise:
Whole Senates bow their yielding Minds,
Like Woods before the Southern Winds;
Free from Deceit, and servile Art,
He speaks the Dictates of his Heart;
His Tongue enchants, his Counsel leads;
Peace enters first, then Wealth succeeds:
His Virtues thro' the Land confess'd,
While thus he soothes us to be blest.

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166

To what a Height true Wit can reach,
Let Waller, and let Congreve teach;

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167

And if we needs must write by Rules,
Without th' Assistance of the Schools,
In flowing Verse, and Lines well-wrought,
What Horace, what Quintilian thought,
Join'd with a little Mother Wit,
Roscommon, and our Pope have writ.

The Fair, who best the Muse inspire,
Who warm the Heart, and tune the Lyre,
Superiour to all former Dames,
Inhabit now the Banks of Thames:
Th' Egyptian Queen, the Ancient's boast,
For whom the well-fought World was lost,
Tell me, dear Hedges, thou canst tell,
Thou know'st the Dead, and Living well,
Could she her haughty Charms compare
With her, who represents her here?
Old Homer's Theme, the Grecian Dame,
Who set whole Nations in a Flame,

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168

No more had been the beauteous Prize,
Had they beheld Lavinia's Eyes:
The Greeks for her alone had strove,
And Paris had been false to Love.