From the same foes at last both felt their doom, 685

And the same age saw Learning fall and Rome.

With Tyranny then Superstition join'd,

As that the body, this enslav'd the mind;

Much was believ'd, but little understood,

And to be dull was constru'd to be good:

A second deluge Learning thus o'er-rau,

690

And the Monks finish'd what the Goths began. At length Erasmus, that great injur❜d name, (The glory of the priesthood, and the shame!)

Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous age,

And drove those holy Vandals off the stage.

But see! each Muse in Leo's golden days

695

Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays;

Rome's ancient Genius o'er its ruins spread,

Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. 700

Cederaõ ao rigôr; ambas fiudaraõ.

A hum tempo Roma e lettras s'acabarao
Superstiçao unio co' a tirania

A escravidao do animo, e dos povos.

820

Muito se creo, mui pouco s'intendia,

825

E julgou-se sêr bom ignorár tudo.
Cahio novo diluvio sobre a terra

Dos Godos a irrupçaõ remataõ frades.

(D'antiga Roma) o musgo, o pó sacóde
E a veneranda face ás gentes mostra.
A sculptura co' as artes irmans, torna,

Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive;

Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live;

And next in place to Mantua, next in fame!

But soon by impious arms from Latium chas'd,

Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd: 710

Thence arts o'er all the northern world advance,

But critic-learning flourish'd most in France:

The rules a nation born to serve obeys,

And Boileau still in right of Horace sways.

But we, brave Britons! foreign laws despis'd,

And kept unconquer'd and unciviliz'd;

Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold,

We still defy'd the Romans, as of old.

715

As pedras forma tomao; rochas vivem,
Nos templos novos, doces cantos soao.
Hum Rafael desenha, hum Vida canta
Immortal Vida! em cuja hourada testa
O poetico loiro brota e cresce,

840

As eras do censor, do mestre insigne.

845

Teu nome aplaudirá Cremona sempre

Como perto de Mantua, e perto em fama.

Mas cedo pellas impias armas cêdo

Yet some there were, among the sounder few

Of those who less presum'd and better knew, 720

Who durst assert the juster ancient cause,

And here restor❜d Wit's fundamental laws.

Such was the Muse whose rules and practice tell "Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well."

Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good,

With manners gen'rous as his noble blood;

726

To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,

And ev'ry 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:

730

The Muse whose early voice you taught to sing, 735

Prescrib'd her heights, and prun'd her tender wing,