Sung with more Spirit than all Athens lost. 
  Nor can the Miter now conceal the Bays,
  For still we view the Sacred Poet’s praise. 
  So tho’ Eridanus becomes a Star
  Exalted to the Skies, and shines afar,
  Below he loses nothing but his Name,
  Still faithful to his Banks, his Stream’s the same.

    But smile, my Muse, once more upon my Song,
  Let Creech be numbred with the Sacred Throng. 
  Whose daring Muse could with Manilius fly,
  And, like an Atlas, shoulder up the Sky. 
  He’s mounted, where no vulgar Eye can trace
  His Wondrous footsteps and mysterious race. 
  See, how He walks above in mighty strains,
  And wanders o’er the wide Ethereal Plains! 
  He sings what Harmony the Spheres obey,
  In Verse more tuneful, and more sweet than they.

    ’Tis cause of Triumph, when Rome’s Genius shines
  In nervous English, and well-worded Lines. 
  Two Famous Latins[6] our bright Tongue adorn,
  And a new Virgil[7] is in England born. 
  An AEneid to translate, and make a new,
  Are Tasks of equal Labour to pursue.

[6] Lucretius and Manilius.

[7] Mr. Dryden’s Virgil.

    For tho’ th’ Invention of a Godlike Mind
  Excels the Works of Nature, and Mankind;
  Yet a well-languag’d Version will require
  An equal Genius, and as strong a Fire. 
  These claim at once our Study and our Praise,
  Fam’d for the Dignity of Sense and Phrase. 
  These gainful to the Stationer, shall stand
  At Paul’s or Cornhill, Fleetstreet or the Strand. 
  Shall wander far and near, and cross the Seas,
  An Ornament to Foreign Libraries.

    Hail, Glorious Titles! who have been my Theme! 
  O could I write so well as I esteem! 
  From her low Nest my humble Soul shou’d rise
  As a young Phoenix out of Ashes flies
  Above what France or Italy can shew,
  The Celebrated Tasso, or Boileau.

    Come You, where’er you be, who seek to find
  Something to pleasure, and instruct your Mind: 
  If, when retir’d from Bus’ness, or from Men,
  You love the Labour’d Travels of the Pen;
  Imploy the Minutes of your vacant Time
  On Cowley, or on Dryden’s useful Rhyme: 
  Or whom besides of all the Tribe you chuse,
  The Tragick, Lyrick, or Heroick Muse: 
  For they, if well observ’d, will strictly shew
  In Charming Numbers, what is false, what true,
  And teach more good than Hobbs or Lock can do.