Part of the NINTH ODE Of the FOURTH BOOK. LEST you fhould think that verse shall die, L' Which founds the Silver Thames along. Taught, on the wings of Truth to fly Above the reach of vulgar song; Tho' daring Milton fits fublime, Sages and Chiefs long fince had birth These rais'd new Empires o'er the Earth, And Those, new Heav'ns and Systems fram'd. Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride! They had no Poet, and they died. In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled! EPISTLE ΤΟ ROBERT Earl of OXFORD, and Earl MORTIMER. UCH were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet fung, For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend, Epift. to Robert Earl of Oxford.] This Epiftle was fent to the Earl of Oxford with Dr. Parnell's poems published by our Author, after the faid Earl's Imprisonment in the Tower, and Retreat into the Country, in the Year 1721. |