His Monarch's _Favours_, and his Monarch's _Cares_:
His flowing _Language_ cloaths his _massie Sense_, }
Nor makes with _pompous Words_ a vain pretence, }
_Sound_ without _Soul_, to _Wit_ and _Eloquence_. }
Tho _Great_, he's still the same he was before:
--I _sue for nothing_, and I'll say no more.
_Montague_ left the _Muses_ peaceful _Seat_,
And bore the _Cares_ and _Honours_ of the _Great_: 620
The _Pollio_ he of our _Augustan_ days,
Who _Wit_ rewards with more than _hungry Praise_;
_True Worth_ his _Patronage_ can never miss,
He has his _Prince's Smiles_ and _that_ has _his_.
Nor should he pass unprais'd whom all admire,
Who, mixt with _Seraphs_, rules the _Western_ Quire;
_Flowing_ and _pure_ his unexhausted _Vein_,
As Silver _Thames_, which, rolling down the _Plain_,
Salutes his _Sacred Dome_.----
But those _profane_ who meanly thus _commend_, 630
Th' _Immortal Cowley's_ and the _Muses_ Friend.
Of _matchless_ DRYDEN only _Dryden's_ Skill
Could justly say enough,--of _Good_ or _Ill_.
_Envy_ must own he has our _Tongue refin'd_,
And manly _Sense_ with tend'rest _Softness_ join'd:
His _Verse_ would _Stones_ and _Trees_ with _Soul_ inspire,
As did the _Theban_ and the _Thracian_ Lyre:
His youthful _Fire_ within, like _Etna, glows_,
Tho _Venerable Age_ around his Temples _snows_:
If from the _modern_ or the _antient_ Store 640
He _borrows_ ought, he always _pays_ 'em more:
So much _improv'd_, each _Thought_, so _fine_ appears,