Like the rich bow athwart th' aetherial plain,
That burns in showers and fire imbibes from rain.

Now let your Muse to architecture change,
Plunge in the bath, or through the palace range,
Heave the huge mole, or bid the column rise,
Or point the obelisk to pierce the skies:
Palladio here must think in every line,
And deep Vitruvius scan the whole design;
The works of Solomon and him of Tyre
Direct the plan, and all your taste inspire:
In due proportion every pillar rear,

Nor let the orders be confounded there :
Where the Corinthian stands in fluted rows,
Let not the martial Doric interpose;

Nor, where the Tuscan lifts th' imperial urn,
Suffer the neat Ionic shaft to turn:

But chief that chaos call'd Composite shun,
Which begs from all, and yet belongs to none.

So Babel's battlements began to rise,
Left earth below, and labor'd up the skies;
The mighty bulwark threaten'd Heaven's abode,
And bade the mounting world ascend to God:

And they had now been there—but Heaven look'd

down,

Their skills confounded, and their tower o'erthrown ; Tongues, pillars, orders, to confusion turn,

And mankind disappointed seem'd to mourn.

Here Egypt's pyramids must heave sublime, And blunt the teeth of all-decaying Time;

Beneath whose weight, the burthen'd earth must

groan,

A ponderous pile in monumental stone;
Strong bars of adamant the marble lock,
And links of iron chain the solid rock;
Beneath whose summit towering eagles fly,
A pointed mountain ending in the sky.

Proud Babylon with brazen gates behold,
And proud Euphrates in her bosom roll'd;
Walls, which Semiramis with turrets crown'd,
And color'd brick with black bitumen bound;
A second Eden here Nitocris trod,

In pensile gardens worthy of a God;
So grand the costly structure hung in air,
It seem'd not built, but first created there:
Here trees and flowers in watery figures rise,
And fruitage ripen nearer to the skies;
Fair fountains fall in silver-streaming floods,
And artificial rainbows paint the clouds ;
With various-color'd light the water burn'd,
Against the sun in artful arches turn'd ;
Nor were the golden pipes by Sirius dried,
The river still the water-works supplied.

Here let the boaster fall from man to beast, Eat grass with brutes, or on rude acorns feast,

Driven from his throne in dens to pass the day,
To herd with wolves, and howl the night away.

So wild Lycaon fled his own abode,
Chang'd by the vengeance of an angry God,
On shaggy feet ran howling through the plain,
And mingled nightly with the prowling train.

Here let the Muse a while delighted rest,
Pleas'd with the prospect opening in her breast;
The wide horizon and the world survey,
As through the walks her fancy loves to stray.

Invention! ah, how beautiful art thou!
I feel thy sudden inspiration now:

Thy whispers prompt me, and the pleasing strife
Of infant thought just struggling into life :
The new-born offspring longs to try its feet,
And runs through verse with voluntary heat:
This was the Nymph that did wise Numa please,
And this the Genius of great Socrates.

Like some smooth mirror, see Euphrates glide Through Duras' plains, and spreads his bosom wide; On whose broad surface watery landskips lie, And bending willows shade the downward sky: There floating forests mix'd with meadows move, And the green glass reflects the flowers above; Shepherds and sheep along the picture stray,

And with the water seem to slide away:

In the blue gleam, the park and walls appear,
And gilded barges, mix'd with grazing deer;

The huntsman sounds-the frighted shadow flies, Thro' flocks, greens, shepherds, barges, hounds, and skies.

Thus in a room, where light can only pass Through the small circle of a convex-glass; O'er the stain'd sheet amusing shadows slide, Clouds float in air, and ships along the tide : In rural posture fields and oxen show,

Trees wave, streams run, and color'd blossoms glow.

'Tis thus when Spring's soft vernal blooms appear,
And throw a glory round the youthful year;
Or summer blazing o'er the heavenly blue,
When swarming insects dip their wings in dew:
In Autumn too, the same mild scene delights,
To view the water, and enjoy the nights;
Nor less loud Winter wilder bliss denies,
When Boreas bids the broad Euphrates rise:
Then peaceful images amuse no more,

But through the bridge the sounding surges roar,
Wide dashing, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore,
The distant billow seems the heavens to 'lave,
And the horizon stoops to drink the wave.

So the loud Euxine, whose compulsive sway Ne'er yet knew ebb or swift reflux of sea,

Rolls on eternal, and directly beats

Against black Bosphorus' tempestuous streights;
The Dardanells behold its louring front,
Gloom the Propontic, and the Hellespont.

Now swell your style, and let the flood conform,
To the rouz'd tempest, and the roaring storm;
In verse as rough let every torrent move,

Froth the vex'd waves, and curl their head above;
Let the green tide turn white with abrupt shock,
And break the salt surge on the rugged rock:
Not so where mazy rills meandering shine,
The running silver trickles through the line;
In smoother notes the whispering waters purl,
The brook falls tuneful, and the waves uncurl;
Hence images of different kinds abound,
In all the vollubility of sound,

Applied to subjects, corresponding flow,
Some loudly rough, and others sweetly low.
Hence various styles appear

in war, and And every style has its peculiar grace;

In epics here a hero strides away,

peace,

And there Amyntor tunes his oaten lay,
While o'er the lawn the lambkins frisk along,
And with their bleatings. fill the rural song;
Or when still evening reddens o'er the sky,
It bids her blushes round the welkin fly;
In each soft cloud some color is express'd,
Till with united glories burns the West:
Then swarm the flies, the tinsel'd people run,