Nor does the _Coronet_ alone defend
The Muses Cause: The _Miter_ is Her Friend.
Can we forget how _Damon's_ lofty Tongue
Shook the glad Mountains? how the Valleys rung
When _Rochester's Seraphick Shepherd_ Sung.
How _Mars_ and _Pallas_ wept to see the Day
When _Athens_ by a Plague dispeopled lay.
What Learning perish'd, and what Lives it cost!
Sung with more Spirit than all _Athens_ lost.
Nor can the _Miter_ now conceal the Bays,
For still we view the _Sacred Poet's_ praise.
So tho' _Eridanus_ becomes a Star
Exalted to the Skies, and shines afar,
Below he loses nothing but his Name,
Still faithful to his Banks, his Stream's the same.

But smile, my Muse, once more upon my Song,
Let _Creech_ be numbred with the Sacred Throng.
Whose daring Muse could with _Manilius_ fly,
And, like an _Atlas_, shoulder up the Sky.
He's mounted, where no vulgar Eye can trace
His Wondrous footsteps and mysterious race.
See, how He walks above in mighty strains,
And wanders o'er the wide Ethereal Plains!
He sings what Harmony the Spheres obey,
In Verse more tuneful, and more sweet than they.

'Tis cause of Triumph, when _Rome's_ Genius shines
In nervous _English_, and well-worded Lines.