40 Chiefs, by whose Virtue mighty Rome was rais'd, As late on Virgil's tomb fresh flow'rs I strow'd, While with th'inspiring Muse my bosom glow'd, Crown'd with eternal bays my ravilh'd eyes 45 Beheld the Poet's awful Form arise : Stranger, he said, whose pious hand has paid These grateful rites to my attentive shade, When thou shalt breathe thy happy native air, To Pope this message from his Master bear: 50 Great Bard, whose numbers I myself inspire, To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, If high exalted on the Throne of Wit, Near Me and Homer thou aspire to fit, No more let meaner Satire dim the rays 55 That flow majestic from thy nobler Bays; In all the flow'ry paths of Pindus stray, But shun that thorny, that unpleasing way; Nor, when each soft engaging Muse is thine, Of thee more worthy were the task, to raise alone can boast If these commands submissive thou receive, 75 GEORGE LYTTELTON. PASTORALS, WITH A Discourse on PASTORAL, Written in the Year M DCC IV. Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, VIRGI |