How long[24] that hero, by unskilful hands, 55 Stripped of his robes, a beggar trod our lands! Such as he wandered o'er his native coast, Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior lost; O'er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread; Old age disgraced the honours of his head; 60 Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball shined The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind. But you, like Pallas, ev'ry limb infold With royal robes, and bid him shine in gold; Touched by your hand his manly frame improves 65 With grace divine, and like a god he moves. Ev'n I, the meanest of the muses' train, Inflamed by thee, attempt a nobler strain; Advent'rous waken the Mæonian lyre, Tuned by your hand, and sing as you inspire: 70 So armed by great Achilles for the fight, Patroclus conquered in Achilles' right: Like theirs, our friendship! and I boast my name To thine united--for thy friendship's fame. This labour past, of heav'nly subjects sing, 75 While hov'ring angels listen on the wing, To hear from earth such heart-felt raptures rise, As, when they sing, suspended hold the skies: Or nobly rising in fair virtue's cause, From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws: 80 Teach a bad world beneath her sway to bend: To verse like thine fierce savages attend, And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay, Ev'n fiends relenting hear their rage away. LORD LYTTELTON.[25] TO MR. POPE.[26] _From Rome, 1730._