File. 
  If You design to make Your Prince appear
  As perfect as Humanity can bear. 
  Whom Vertues at th’ expence of Danger please,
  Deaf to the Syrens of alluring ease. 
  No Terrours Thee, Achilles, could invade,
  Nor Thee, Ulysses, any Charms persuade. 
  This must be done, if Poets would be Read,
  Who seek to emulate the Sacred Dead.

    Thus in bright Numbers and well polish’d Strains
  Virgilian Addison describes Campaigns. 
  Whose Verse, like a proportion’d Man, we find,
  Not of the Gyant, nor the Pygmy kind. 
  Such Symmetry appears o’er all the Song,
  Lofty with justness, and with Caution strong.

    This Congreve follows in his Deathless Line,
  And the Tenth Hand is put to the Design. 
  The Happy boldness of his Finish’d Toil
  Claims more than Shakespear’s Wit, or Johnson’s Oil. 
  Sing on, Harmonious Swan, in weeping strains,
  And tell Pastora’s Death to mournful Swains. 
  Or with more pleasing Charms, with softer Airs
  Sweeten our Passions, and delude our Cares. 
  Or let thy Satyr grin with half a Smile,
  And jeer in Easy Etherege’s Style. 
  Let Manly Wycherly chalk out the Way,
  And Art direct, where Nature goes astray. 
  ’Tis not for Thee to Write of Conqu’ring Kings,
  The Noise of Arms will break thy Am’rous Strings.

    The Teian Muse invites Thee from above
  To lay Thy Trumpet down, and sing of Love. 
  Let MONTAGUE describe Boyn’s swelling Flood
  And purple Streams fatned with Hostile Blood. 
  O Heavenly Patron of the needy Muse! 
  Whose powerful Name can nobler heat infuse. 
  When You Nassau’s bright Actions dar’d to see,
  You was the Eagle, and Apollo He. 
  But when He read You, and Your Value knew,
  He was the Eagle, and Apollo You. 
  Both spoke the Bird in her AEthereal height,
  The Majesty was His, and Thine the Flight. 
  Both did Apollo in His Glory shew,
  The Silver Harp was Thine, and His the Bow,

    So may Pierian Clio cease to fear,
  When Honour deigns to sing, and Majesty to hear! 
  So may she favour’d live, and always please
  Our Dorset’s, and Judicious Normanby’s!

    Nor does the Coronet alone defend
  The Muses Cause:  The Miter is Her Friend. 
  Can we forget how Damon’s lofty Tongue
  Shook the glad Mountains? how the Valleys rung
  When Rochester’s Seraphick Shepherd Sung. 
  How Mars and Pallas wept to see the Day
  When Athens by a Plague dispeopled lay. 
  What Learning perish’d, and what Lives it cost!