That honour'd piece to distant times must live;
When noble Sheffield strikes the trembling strings,
The little loves rejoice and clap their wings.
Anacreon lives, they cry, th' harmonious swain }
Retunes the lyre, and tries his wonted strain, }
'Tis he,--our lost Anacreon lives again. }
But when th' illustrious poet soars above
The sportive revels of the god of love,
Like Maro's muse he takes a loftier flight,
And towers beyond the wond'ring Cupid's sight.

If thou wouldst have thy volume stand the test,
And of all others be reputed best,
Let Congreve teach the list'ning groves to mourn,
As when he wept o'er fair Pastora's urn.[12]

Let Prior's muse with soft'ning accents move,
Soft as the strain of constant Emma's love:
Or let his fancy choose some jovial theme.
As when he told Hans Carvel's jealous dream;
Prior th' admiring reader entertains,
With Chaucer's humour, and with Spenser's strains.[13]

Waller in Granville lives; when Mira sings
With Waller's hands he strikes the sounding strings.
With sprightly turns his noble genius shines,
And manly sense adorns his easy lines.

On Addison's sweet lays attention waits,
And silence guards the place while he repeats;