Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/462

448 Still her tenderest notes infuse Melting rapture, soft desire. Beauteous Helen young and gay, By a painted fopling won, Went not first, fair nymph, astray, Fondly pleas'd to be undone. Nor young Teucer's slaughtering bow, Nor bold Hector's dreadful sword, Alone, the terrours of the foe, Sow'd the field with hostile blood. Many valiant chiefs of old Greatly lived and died, before Agamemnon, Grecian bold, Waged the ten years famous war. But their names, unsung, unwept, Unrecorded, lost, and gone, Long in endless night have slept, And shall now no more be known. Virtue, which the poet's care Has not well consign'd to fame, Lies, as in the sepulchre Some old king without a name. But, O Humphry, great and free, While my tuneful songs are read, Old forgetful Time on thee Dark oblivion ne'er shall spread. When the deep cut notes shall fade On the mouldering Parian stone, On the brass no more be read The perishing inscription. Forgotten all the enemies, Envious G———n's cursed spite, And P———l's derogating lies, Lost and sunk in Stygian night. Still