I court no muse amidst the tuneful throng, Thy genii, Campbell, shall inspire my song; The gentle summons every thought obeys, Wakens my soul, and tunes it all to lays. Among the thousand wonders thou hast shown, I, in a moment, am a poet grown; The rising images each other meet; Fall into verse, and dance away with feet: Now with thy Cupid and thy lamb I rove[A], Through ev'ry bloomy mead and fragrant grove. A thousand things I can myself divine, Thy little genii whispers them to mine; Beyond the grave I see thy deathless fame, The fair and young all singing Campbell's name; And Love himself--for Love and thou art friends, He joins the chorus, and his dart defends. What noisy talker can thy magic boast? Let those dull wretches try who scorn thee most. O, sacred silence! let me ever dwell, With the sweet muses, in thy lonely cell! Or else bind up, in thy eternal chain, Scandal and noise, and all that talk in vain. M. FOWKE. TO MRS. FOWKE, OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING VERSES Sweet nightingale! whose artful numbers show, Expressive eloquence to silent woe, Sing on, and in thy sex's power presume, By praising Campbell, to strike nations dumb. Whene'er you sing, silent, as he, they'll stand, Speak by their eyes, grow eloquent by hand: Tongues are confusion, but as learnt by you, All but Pythagoras's doctrine's true; Campbell and he taught silence--had he heard How much thy lays to silence were preferr'd, He had recanted from thy powerful song, And justly wish'd each organ had a tongue. But could he see, what you, in every line, Prophetic tell of Campbell's sight divine, Like Croesus's sons his loosened nerves must break, And ask the cause--or make his Campbell speak. G. S. * * * * * TO MR. CAMPBELL. Milton's immortal wish[B] you sure must feel, To point those fates which you to all reveal; If second-sight so much alarms mankind, What transports must it give to know thy mind? Thy book is but the shadow of thy worth, Like distant lights, which set some picture forth. But if the artist's skill we nearer trace, And strictly view each feature of the face, We find the charm that animates the whole, And leave the body to adore the soul. Milton's immortal wish you sure must feel, To point those fates which you to all reveal. I. PHILIPS. * * * * * THE PARALLEL TO MR. CAMPBELL.