He comes, he comes! bid ev'ry Bard prepare The song of triumph, and attend his Car. Great Sheffield's Muse the long procession heads, And throws a lustre o'er the pomp she leads, First gives the Palm she fir'd him to obtain, Crowns his gay brow, and shows him how to reign. Thus young Alcides, by old Chiron taught, Was form'd for all the miracles he wrought; Thus Chiron did the youth he taught applaud, Pleas'd to behold the earnest of a God. But hark what shouts, what gath'ring crowds rejoice; Unstain'd their praise by any venal voice, Such as th'Ambitious vainly think their due, When Prostitutes, or needy Flatt'rers sue. And see the Chief: before him laurels born, Trophies from undeserving temples torn; Here Rage enchain'd reluctant raves, and there Pale Envy, dumb, and sickning with despair; Prone to the earth she bends her loathing eye, Weak to support the blaze of majesty. But what are they that turn the sacred page? Three lovely Virgins, and of equal age; Intent they read, and all-enamour'd seem, As He that met his likeness in the stream: The Graces these; and see how they contend, Who most shall praise, who best shall recommend? The Chariot now the painful steep ascends; The Pœans cease; thy glorious labour ends. Here fix'd, the bright eternal Temple stands, Its prospect an unbounded view commands: Say, wondrous youth, what Column wilt thou chuse, What laurell'd Arch for thy triumphant Muse? Tho' each great Ancient court thee to his shrine, Tho' ev'ry Laurel thro the dome be thine; (From the proud Epic, down to those that shade The gentler brow of the soft Lesbian maid) Go to the Good and Just, an awful train, Thy soul's delight, and glory of the Fane: While thro' the earth thy dear remembrance flies, "Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
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