Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/440

426 You all agree, I make no doubt, Elijah's mantle is worn out. The bird of Jove shall toil no more To teach the humble wren to soar. Your tragick heroes shall not rant, Nor shepherds use poetick cant. Simplicity alone can grace The manners of the rural race. Theocritus and Philips be Your guides to true simplicity. Nor a new star adorn the skies: For who can hope to place one there, As glorious as Belinda's hair? Yet, if his name you'd eternize, And must exalt him to the skies; Without a star, this may be done: So Tickell mourn'd his Addison. If Anna's happy reign you praise, Pray, not a word of halcyon days; Nor let my votaries show their skill In aping lines from Cooper's Hill; For know, I cannot bear to hear The mimickry of deep, yet clear. Whene'er my viceroy is address'd, Against the phenix I protest. When poets soar in youthful strains, No Phaëton to hold the reins. When you describe a lovely girl, No lips of coral; teeth of pearl. Cupid