The Muse of Sion, not implor'd in vain,
Guides to th' impaffion'd foul his heavenly ftrain.
Blush, BOILEAU, blufh, and for that pride atone,
Which flander'd Genius far above thy own;
And thou, great injur'd Bard, thy ftation claim
Amid the Demi-gods of Epic name ;
Heir to a mantle by the Mufes fpun,
Of a poetic Sire the more poetic Son. *
Nor, tho' juft Fame her richer palm devote
To the high-founding lyre of serious note,
Shall gay TASSONI want his feftive crown, †
Who banish'd from the Mufe her aweful frown,
And, tuning to light themes her lofty style,
O'er her grave features fpread a comic fmile.
Such various Sons, of Epic fire poffeft,
Italia fofter'd on her feeling breast.
Spain, whofe bold genius with misjudging pride
O'ersteps true glory by too large a stride,
With more than Niobe's parental boast,
She calls her fingle Son himself an Hoft,
And rafhly judges that her VEGA's lyre
Is equal to the whole Aonian quire.
Impetuous Poet! whofe full brain supplied
Such floods of Verfe, and in fo quick a tide,
Their rapid fwell, by its unrivall'd height,
Pleas'd, yet produc'd more wonder than delight:
Tho' thy free rhyme from Fancy's fountain gufh,
And with the grandeur of the torrent rush,
Its troubled ftreams in dark diforder roam,
With all the torrent's noife and all its foam.
To Emulation fir'd by Tasso's ftrain,
Thy spirit quitted the dramatic plain
To feek thofe Epic heights, fublimely calm,
Whence he had pluck'd his Idumean palm;
But, vainly struggling in a task too hard,
Sunk at the feet of that fuperior Bard.
Brave Spaniard! ftill thy wounded pride confole;
Time shall not ftrike thy name from Glory's roll,
On which thy generous and fraternal hand
Emblaz'd each brother of thy tuneful band
Thy Muse shall share the praise fhe joy'd to give,
And while thy language lasts thy fame fhall live.
Perchance, tho' ftrange the paradox may seem,
That fame had rifen with a brighter beam,
Had radiant Fancy lefs enrich'd thy mind:
Her lavish wealth, for wifer ufe defign'd,
Ruin'd the Poet by its fplendid lure,
As India's mines have made his country poor.
With warmth more temperate, and in notes more clear,
That with Homeric richness fill the ear,
The brave ERCILLA founds, with potent breath,
His Epic trumpet in the fields of death.
In fcenes of favage war when Spain unfurl'd
Her bloody banners o'er the western world,
With all his Country's virtues in his frame,
Without the base alloy that ftain'd her name,
In Danger's camp this military Bard,
Whom Cynthia faw on his nocturnal guard,
Recorded, in his bold defcriptive lay,
The various fortune of the finish'd day;
Seizing the pen while Night's calm hours afford
A tranfient flumber to his fatiate sword,
With noble justice his warm hand bestows
The meed of Honor on his valiant foes.
Howe'er precluded, by his generous aim,
From high pretenfions to inventive fame,
His ftrongly-colour'd scenes of fanguine ftrife,
His fofter pictures caught from Indian life,
Above the vifionary forms of art,
Fire the awaken'd mind and melt the heart.
Tho' fierceft tribes her galling fetters drag,
Proud Spain must strike to Lufitania's flag,
Whose ampler folds, in conscious triumph spread,
Wave o'er her NAVAL POET's laureate head.
Ye Nymphs of Tagus, from your golden cell,
That caught the echo of his tuneful shell,
Rife, and to deck your darling's fhrine provide
The richest treasures that the deep may hide :
From every land let grateful Commerce shower
Her tribute to the Bard who fung her power;
As those rich gales, from whence his GAMA caught
A pleafing carneft of the prize he fought,
The balmy fragrance of the East dispense,
So fteals his Song on the delighted sense,
Astonishing, with sweets unknown before,
Those who ne'er tafted but of claffic lore.
Immortal Bard, thy name with GAMA vies,
Thou, like thy Hero, with propitious skies
The fail of bold adventure haft unfurl'd,
And in the Epic ocean found a world.
'Twas thine to blend the Eagle and the Dove,
At once the Bard of Glory and of Love:
Thy thankless Country heard thy varying lyre
TO PETRARCH's Softness melt, and fwell to HOMER'S Fire!
Boast and lament, ungrateful land, a Name,
In life, in death, thy honor and thy fhame.
Thou nobler realm, whom vanity betrays.
To load thy letter'd fons with lavish praise;
Where Eulogy, with one eternal fmile, †
Heaps her faint roses in a withering pile :
* Ver. 280. See NOTE XI.
† Ver. 287. See NOTE XII.
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