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 Join'd to whate'er the Graces can bestow. And all Apollo's animating fire, Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine At once the guardian, ornament, and joy, Of polish'd life; permit the rural Muse, O, to grace with thee her song! Ere to the shades again she humbly flies, Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train, (For every Muse has in thy train a place) To mark thy various full-accomplish'd mind: To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn, Rejects th' allurements of corrupted power; That elegant politeness, which excels Even in the judgement of presumptuous France, The boasted manners of her shining court; That wit, the vivid energy of sense The truth of Nature, which, with Attic point, And kind well-temper'd satire, smoothly keen, Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects. Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, O let me hail thee on some glorious day, When to the listening senate, ardent, croud sons to hear her pleaded cause. Then drest by thee, more amiably fair, Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears: Thou to assenting reason giv'st again Her own enlighten'd thoughts; call'd from the heart, Th' obedient passions on thy voice attend; And even reluctant party feels a while Thy gracious power: as thro' the vary'd maze Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong, Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood.

thy lov'd haunt return, my happy Muse: For now, behold, the joyous winter-days, Frosty,