Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/118



E read, how Dreams and Visions heretofore, The Prophet, and the Poet cou'd inspire;
 * And make 'em in unusual Rapture soar,

With Rage Divine, and with Poetick Fire.

O could I find it now!Wou'd Virgil's Shade But for a while vouchsafe to bear the Light;
 * To grace my Numbers, and that Muse to aid,

Who sings the Poet, that has done him right.

It long has been this Sacred Author's Fate, To lye at ev'ry dull Translator's Will;
 * Long, long his Muse has groan'd beneath the weight

Of mangling Ogleby's presumptuous Quill.

Dryden, at last, in his Defence arose; The Father now is righted by the Son:
 * And while his Muse endeavours to disclose

That Poet's Beauties, she declares her own.

In your smooth, pompous Numbers drest, each Line, Each Thought, betrays such a Majestick Touch;
 * He cou'd not, had he finish'd his Design,

Have wisht it better, or have done so much.

You like his Heroe, though your self were free; And disentangl'd from the War of Wit;
 * You, who secure might others danger see,

And safe from all malicious Censure sit: