Whence admiration overflows the mind, "Here various Fancy spreads a varied scene, "Here laurel-boughs, which ancient heroes wore, Now not so fading as they prov'd before, Wreath round the pillars which the Poets rear, And slope their points to make a foliage there. Here chaplets, pull'd in gently-breathing wind, And wrought by lovers innocently kind, Hung o'er the porch, their fragrant odors give, And fresh in lasting song for ever live. The shades, for whom with such indulgent care Fame wreaths the boughs, or hangs the chaplets there, To deathless honors thus preserv'd above, For ages conquer, or for ages love. "Here bold Description paints the walls within, In which Description stains the painted bow, "Here, on the pedestals of War and Peace, And all the Statues of the Palace live. "Here, as on circumstance Narrations dwell, And tell what moves, and hardly seem to tell, The toil of Heroes on the dusty plains, Or on the green the merriment of Swains, Reflection speaks: then all the Forms that rose In life's inchanted scene themselves compose ; Whilst the grave voice, controling all the spells, With solemn utterance, thus the Moral tells : 'So Public Worth its enemies destroys, • Or Private Innocence itself enjoys.' "Here all the Passions, for their greater sway, In all the power of words themselves array; And hence the soft Pathetic gently charms, And hence the bolder fills the breast with arms. Sweet Love in numbers finds a world of darts, And with Desirings wounds the tender hearts. Fair Hope displays its pinions to the wind, And flutters in the lines, and lifts the mind. Brisk Joy with transport fills the rising strain, Breaks in the notes, and bounds in every vein. Stern Courage, glittering in the sparks of Ire, Inflames those lays that set the breast on fire. Aversion learns to fly with swifter will, In numbers taught to represent an ill. By frightful accents Fear produces fears; By sad expression Sorrow melts to tears: And dire Amazement and Despair are brought By words of Horror through the wilds of thought. 'Tis thus tumultuous Passions learn to roll; Thus, arm'd with Poetry, they win the soul. "Pass further through the Dome, another view Would now the pleasures of thy mind renew, Where oft Description for the colors goes, Which raise and animate its native shows; Where oft Narration seeks a florid grace To keep from sinking ere 'tis time to cease; Where easy turns Reflection looks to find, When Morals aim at dress to please the mind; Where lively Figures are for use array'd, And these an Action, those a Passion, aid. "There modest Metaphors in order sit, With unaffected, undisguising Wit, That leave their own, and seek another's place, Not forc'd, but changing with an easy pace, To deck a notion faintly seen before, And Truth preserves her shape, and shines the more. "By these the beauteous Similies reside, In look more open, in design ally'd, "There Repetitions one another meet, Expressly strong, or languishingly sweet, And raise the sort of sentiment they please, And urge the sort of sentiment they raise. "There close in order are the Questions plac'd, Which march with art conceal'd in shows of haste, And work the Reader till his mind be brought To make its answers in the Writer's thought. For thus the moving Passions seem to throng, And with their quickness force the soul along; And thus the soul grows fond they should prevail, When every Question seems a fair appeal ; And if by just degrees of strength they soar, In steps as equal each affects the more. |