[13]
Whose Table, Wit, or modest Merit share,
Un-elbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or Play'r?
Who copies Yours or Oxford's better part,
To ease th' oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart?
Wher-e'er he shines, oh Fortune gild the scene,
And Angels guard him in the golden Mean!
There English Bounty yet a while may stand,
And Honor linger, e're it leaves the Land.
Un-elbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or Play'r?
Who copies Yours or Oxford's better part,
To ease th' oppress'd, and raise the sinking heart?
Wher-e'er he shines, oh Fortune gild the scene,
And Angels guard him in the golden Mean!
There English Bounty yet a while may stand,
And Honor linger, e're it leaves the Land.
But all our praises why should Lords engross?
Rise honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross:
Pleas'd Vaga ecchoes thro' her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountains sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose Cause-way parts the vale with shady rows?
Whose Seats the weary Traveller repose?
Who feeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate?
Rise honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross:
Pleas'd Vaga ecchoes thro' her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountains sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose Cause-way parts the vale with shady rows?
Whose Seats the weary Traveller repose?
Who feeds yon Alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate?
Who
