it6 M-.'cslianeous Poems.

’Tis not a Flash of Fancy, which sometimes,

Dazling our Minds, sets oft" the slightest Rhymes;

Bright as a Blaze, but in a Moment done jTrue Wit is everlasting, like the Sun ;

Which, tho’ sometimes behind a Cloud retir’d,

Bleaks out again, and is by all admir’d.

Numbers, and Rhyme, and that harmonious SoundWhich never does the Ear with harshness w ound.

Are necessary, yet but vulgar Arts ;

For all in'vain rhfie fupeificial PartsContribute to the Struflure of the whole,

Without a Genius t .o, for that’s the Soul :

A Spirit, which inspires the Work throughout,

As that of Nature moves the World about :

A Flea*, which glows in t.v ry Word that’s writ j' ’Tis something, of Divine, and more than Wit ;

It self unseen, yet all Things by it shown,

Describing all Men, but’describ’d by none.

Where dost thou dwell r What Caverns of the BrainCan such a vast and mighty Thing contain ?

W hen I, at idle-Hours, in vain thy Absence mourn,

O where dost thou retire ? And why dost thou returnSometimes with pow’rful Charms to hurry me awayFrom Pleasures of the Night, and Bus’neis of the Day ?E’en now, tco far transported, I am/ainTo check thy Course, and use the needful Rein.

As all is Dullness when the fssney’s bad ;

So, whithout Judgment, Fancy is but mad ;

And Judgment has a boundless Influence,

Not only in the Choice of Words or Sense,

But on the World, on Manners, and on Men :

Fancy is but the Feather of the Pen.

Reason is that substantial useful Pars,

Which gains the Plead, while t’other wins the Hears,Here I should all the various Sorts of Verse,

And the whole Art of Poetry rehearse :

But who that Task can aster Horace do ?

The best of Masters and Examples too !

Ecchoes