Motion and life did every part inspire,
Bold was the work, and proved the master's fire.
A strong expression most he seemed t' affect,
And here and there disclosed a brave neglect.
A golden column next in rank appeared,
On which a shrine of purest gold was reared;
Finished the whole, and laboured every part,
With patient touches of unwearied art;
The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,
Composed his posture, and his look sedate:
On Homer still he fixed a reverent eye,
Great without pride, in modest majesty,
In living sculpture on the sides were spread
The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead:
Eliza stretched upon the funeral pyre,
Aeneas bending with his aged sire:
Troy flamed in burning gold, and o'er the throne
_Arms and the Man_ in golden ciphers shone.
Four swans sustain a car of silver bright,
With heads advanced, and pinions stretched for flight,
Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
And seemed to labour with the inspiring God.
Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
And boldly sinks into the sounding strings.
The figured games of Greece the column grace,
Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race.
The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run;
The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone:
The champions in distorted postures threat;
And all appeared irregularly great.