The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a MemoirCollins, William
General
The Poetical Works of William Collins; With a Memoir
Collins, William
Poetry
To Rome removed, with wit secure to please,
The comic Sisters kept their native ease:
With jealous fear, declining Greece beheld
Her own Menander's art almost excell'd; 30
But every Muse essay'd to raise in vain
Some labour'd rival of her tragic strain:
Ilissus' laurels, though transferr'd with toil,
Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew the unfriendly soil.
As Arts expired, resistless Dulness rose; 35
Goths, Priests, or Vandals,--all were Learning's foes.
Till Julius[55] first recall'd each exiled maid,
And Cosmo own'd them in the Etrurian shade:
Then, deeply skill'd in love's engaging theme,
The soft Provençal pass'd to Arno's stream: 40
With graceful ease the wanton lyre he strung;
Sweet flow'd the lays--but love was all he sung.
The gay description could not fail to move,
For, led by nature, all are friends to love.
But Heaven, still various in its works, decreed 45
The perfect boast of time should last succeed.
The beauteous union must appear at length,
Of Tuscan fancy, and Athenian strength:
One greater Muse Eliza's reign adorn,
And e'en a Shakespeare to her fame be born! 50
Yet ah! so bright her morning's opening ray,
In vain our Britain hoped an equal day!
No second growth the western isle could bear,
At once exhausted with too rich a year.
Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part; 55
Nature in him was almost lost in art.
Of softer mould the gentle Fletcher came,
The next in order, as the next in name;
With pleased attention, 'midst his scenes we find
Each glowing thought that warms the female mind; 60
Each melting sigh, and every tender tear;
The lover's wishes, and the virgin's fear.
His every strain[56] the Smiles and Graces own;
But stronger Shakespeare felt for man alone:
Drawn by his pen, our ruder passions stand 65
The unrival'd picture of his early hand.
With[57] gradual steps and slow, exacter France
Saw Art's fair empire o'er her shores advance:
By length of toil a bright perfection knew,
Correctly bold, and just in all she drew: 70
Till late Corneille, with Lucan's[58] spirit fired,
Breathed the free strain, as Rome and he inspired:
And classic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine
The temperate strength of Maro's chaster line.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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