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See Dionysius Homer’s thoughts refine, [665]
And call new beauties forth from every line!

Fancy and art in gay Petronius please, [667]
The scholar’s learning with the courtier’s ease.

In grave Quintilian’s copious work we find [669]
The justest rules and clearest method joined:
Thus useful arms in magazines we place,
All ranged in order, and disposed with grace,
But less to please the eye, than arm the hand,
Still fit for use, and ready at command.

Thee bold Longinus! all the Nine inspire, [675]
And bless their critic with a poet’s fire.
An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust,
With warmth gives sentence, yet is always just:
Whose own example strengthens all his laws;
And is himself that great sublime he draws.

Thus long succeeding critics justly reigned,
License repressed, and useful laws ordained.
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew;
And arts still followed where her eagles flew,
From the same foes at last, both felt their doom,
And the same age saw learning fall, and Rome. [686]
With tyranny then superstition joined
As that the body, this enslaved the mind;
Much was believed but little understood,
And to be dull was construed to be good;
A second deluge learning thus o’errun,
And the monks finished what the Goths begun. [692]

At length Erasmus, that great injured name [693]
(The glory of the priesthood and the shame!)
Stemmed the wild torrent of a barbarous age,
And drove those holy Vandals off the stage. [696]

But see! each muse, in Leo’s golden days, [697]
Starts from her trance and trims her withered bays,
Rome’s ancient genius o’er its ruins spread
Shakes off the dust, and rears his reverent head
Then sculpture and her sister arts revive,
Stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live;
With sweeter notes each rising temple rung,
A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung [704]
Immortal Vida! on whose honored brow
The poets bays and critic’s ivy grow
Cremona now shall ever boast thy name
As next in place to Mantua, next in fame!

But soon by impious arms from Latium chased,
Their ancient bounds the banished muses passed.
Thence arts o’er all the northern world advance,
But critic-learning flourished most in France,
The rules a nation born to serve, obeys;
And Boileau still in right of Horace sways [714]
But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised,
And kept unconquered and uncivilized,
Fierce for the liberties of wit and bold,
We still defied the Romans as of old.
Yet some there were, among the sounder few
Of those who less presumed and better knew,
Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,
And here restored wit’s fundamental laws.
Such was the muse, whose rule and practice tell
“Nature’s chief masterpiece is writing well.”
Such was Roscommon, not more learned than good,
With manners generous as his noble blood,
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
And every author’s merit, but his own
Such late was Walsh–the muse’s judge and friend,
Who justly knew to blame or to commend,
To failings mild, but zealous for desert,
The clearest head, and the sincerest heart,
This humble praise, lamented shade! receive,
This praise at least a grateful muse may give.
The muse whose early voice you taught to sing
Prescribed her heights and pruned her tender wing,
(Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise,
But in low numbers short excursions tries,
Content if hence the unlearned their wants may view,
The learned reflect on what before they knew
Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame,
Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame,
Averse alike to flatter, or offend,
Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.