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To the Rt Hon. Lady Viscountess IRWIN, on her Poem call'd Castle Howard.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To the Rt Hon. Lady Viscountess IRWIN, on her Poem call'd Castle Howard.

Had Homer liv'd in these our Times,
The Bard his Lyre had strung,
And giv'n great Carlisle's Seat in Rhymes,
And Troy had left un-sung.
The Mantuan Poet too had chose,
To Sing in mighty Strains,
Of Castle Howard, for his Muse,
Had scorn'd the Elysian Plains.

236

Or now had Ovid liv'd again,
(To see himself outdone;)
He had describ'd by Howard's Plan,
The Palace of the Sun.
But wisely Phœbus and the Nine,
Preferr'd the softer Strain;
The glorious Task great Irwin's thine,
For they had wrote in vain.
Thee Ovid's softer Notes inspire,
(Soft Notes to him belong)
While Virgil's Fancy, Homer's Fire,
Illustrate Howard's Song.

237

Thy lively Genius, Irwin, shows,
How Verse may yet improve;
Thy ev'ry Line harmonious flows,
And those who read must love.
S.
 

Virgil.