Beneath the peaceful olives, rais'd by you,
Her ancient pride shall ev'ry art renew;
(The arts with you, fam'd , shall defend,
And courtly , the Muse's friend)
With piercing eye some search where nature plays,
And trace the wanton through her darksome maze;
Whence health from herbs; from seeds how groves begun,
How vital streams in circling eddies run.
Some teach, why round the sun the spheres advance,
In the fix'd measures of their mystick dance:
How tides, when heav'd by pressing moons, o'erflow,
And sun-born Iris paints her flow'ry bow.
In happy chains our daring language bound,
Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound,
But buskin'd bards henceforth shall wisely rage,
And Grecian plans reform Britannia's stage:
'Till Congreve bids her smile, Augusta stands,
And longs to weep when flowing Rowe commands:
Britain's Spectators shall their strength combine
To mend our morals, and our taste refine,
Fight virtue's cause, stand up in wit's defence,
Win us from vice, and laugh us into sense.
Nor, Prior, hast thou hush'd the trump in vain,
Thy lyre shall now revive her mirthful strain,
New tales shall now be told; if right I see,
The soul of Chaucer is restor'd in thee.
Garth, in majestick numbers, to the stars
Shall raise mock-heroes, and fantastick wars;
Like the young spreading laurel, Pope, thy name
Shoots up with strength, and rises into fame;
With Phillips shall the peaceful vallies ring,
And Britain hear a second Spenser sing;
That much-lov'd youth, whom Utrecht's walls confine,
To  praises shall his  join:
He too, from whom attentive  draws
Rules for just thinking, and poetick laws,
To growing bards his learned aid shall send,
The strictest critick, and the kindest friend.
Ev'n mine, a bashful Muse, whose rude essays
Scarce hope for pardon, not aspire to praise,
Cherish'd by you in time may grow to fame,
And mine survive with  glorious name.