LII.
"To Thirst of Glory, and heroic Deeds;
"Sweet Maro's Muse, sunk in inglorious Rest,
"Had silent slept amid the Mincian Reeds:
"The Wits of modern Time had told their Beads,
"And monkish Legends been their only Strains;
"Our Milton's Eden had lain wrapt in Weeds,
"Our Shakespear stroll'd and laugh'd with Warwick Swains,
"Ne had my Master Spenser charm'd his Mulla's Plains.
LIII.
"And perish'd all the Sons of antient Fame;
"Those starry Lights of Virtue, that diffuse
"Through the dark Depth of Time their vivid Flame,
"Had all been lost with Such as have no Name.
"Who then had scorn'd his Ease for others' Good?
"Who then had toil'd rapacious Men to tame?
"Who in the Public Breach devoted stood,
"And for his Country's Cause been prodigal of Blood?
LIV.