text:  Hail bards triumphant! born in happier days; Immortal heirs of universal praise! Whose honours with increase of ages grow As streams roll down enlarging as they flow; Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound And worlds applaud that must not yet be found O may some spark of your celestial fire The last the meanest of your sons inspire (That on weak wings from far pursues your flights; Glows while he reads but trembles as he writes ) To teach vain wits a science little known T' admire superior sense and doubt their own! A magnificent burst of thoughtful enthusiasm! an urgent and monitory exhortation in which Pope calls upon rising critics and poets to pursue in the great writings of classical antiquity the study of that art which proceeds from the true study of Nature