At length Erasmus, that great injured name, (The glory of the priesthood, and the shame!) Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barbarous age, And drove those holy Vandals off the stage. But see! each Muse, in Leo's golden days, Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays, Rome's ancient Genius, o'er its ruins spread, 700 Shakes off the dust, and rears his reverend head. Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive; Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live; With sweeter notes each rising temple rung: A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung: Immortal Vida! on whose honour'd brow The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow; Cremona now shall ever boast thy name, As next in place to Mantua,[26] next in fame! But soon by impious arms from Latium chased, 710 Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses pass'd; Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance, But critic-learning flourish'd most in France: The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys; And Boileau still in right of Horace sways. But we, brave Britons, foreign laws despised, And kept unconquer'd and uncivilised; Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold, We still defied the Romans, as of old. Yet some there were, among the sounder few 720 Of those who less presumed, and better knew, Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, And here restored Wit's fundamental laws. Such was the Muse,[27] whose rules and practice tell, 'Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.' Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good, With manners generous as his noble blood; To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, And every author's merit, but his own. Such late was Walsh--the Muse's judge and friend, 730 Who justly knew to blame or to commend; To failings mild, but zealous for desert; The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. This humble praise, lamented Shade! receive, This praise at least a grateful Muse may give: The Muse, whose early voice you taught to sing, Prescribed her heights, and pruned her tender wing, (Her guide now lost) no more attempts to rise, But in low numbers short excursions tries: Content, if hence the unlearn'd their wants may view, 740 The learn'd reflect on what before they knew: Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame; Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame; Averse alike to flatter, or offend; Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend. * * * * * VARIATIONS. VER. 624. Between this and ver. 625:-- In vain you shrug, and sweat, and strive to fly; These know no manners but of poetry. They'll stop a hungry chaplain in his grace, To treat of unities of time and place. Between ver. 647 and 648, were the following lines, afterwards suppressed by the author:--