Yet aim'd to give, by friendship's kind controul,
Miltonic * temper to thy fervent foul;

And well hast thou, to make those years conduce
To future honour and immediate use,

Affign'd of early life thy ftudious prime

To bright Italia's art-enlighten'd clime;

That clime, where Milton, at an age like thine,
Imbib'd the fervour of fublime defign,
As emulation wing'd his foul with fire,
In fong to triumph o'er the Tuscan quire;
And Taffo's Mufe, with epic glory bright,
Impell'd his fancy to a nobler flight:

So

may the modern lord of Sculpture's sphere, Whose mighty hand to many an art was dear May lofty Angelo thy mind inflame,

As happily to vie with Tuscan fame!

Then shall thy country, while thy works display
Force, feeling, truth, and beauty's moral sway,

See NOTE II.

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Radiant, at last, with sculptural renown, (A gem long wanting in her lucid crown,) Feel new distinction animate her heart,

And high precedence hold in every art.

Pass not this prefage in Detraction's eyes

For partial friendship's weak or vain surmise;
'Tis hope well grounded, such as heaven inspires
When man submits to heaven his proud defires.

May'st thou, my friend! whofe well-inftructed youth
Grav'd on thy heart this animating truth,

"Talents are power which men from God deduce,

"And beft acknowledge by benignant use ;"May'ft thou, by years of profperous ftudy, reach Remote Perfection, that no precepts teach!

May'ft thou, like Angelo and Milton, close

A life of labour in divine repose,

In that calm vale of years, by Science bleft,

Where well-earn'd honour warms the veteran's breast,

Acknowledg’d (to reward his mental strife)

A fovereign of the art to which he gave his life!

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Enough for me, whose thrilling nerves confess
Sincereft transport in a friend's fuccefs —

For me, who hold, in life's autumnal days,
Private esteem more dear than public praise —
If I may pour, benevolently clear,

Incentive notes in Friendship's partial ear;
By zealous verfe uninjur'd minds inflame
To toils of highest hope and hardest aim,
Urge those I love in lovely arts to shine,
And make their triumphs by affection mine.
As when, through hazards on a sea untried,
Philanthropy and Fame the veffel guide,

A crippled boatswain, for Old England's fake,
By his fhrill note may abler seamen wake
To happier service than himself could yield,
If yet unshatter'd on the watery field.

O generous paffion, under just command,
Enlighten'd fondness for our native land!
Thy potent fire the Grecian arts refin'd,

And made them idols of the cultur'd mind:

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From thee the hero, as the artist, caught.
Vigour of nerve and dignity of thought.
Great were thy wonders in the world of old,
When glory triumph'd o'er inferior gold.
But fceptics say that, in the modern breast,

;

The patriot passion is a fordid jest ;
The knavish politician's pompous mask,
That to the wife betrays his fecret task
To cheat a nation with fictitious zeal,
And
ape

the noble warmth he ne'er can feel.

O, blind to Nature the false fage, who thinks
That by the touch of Time her treasure sinks !
The mighty Parent draws from heaven the power
Freely to lavish her exhaustless dower;
'That useful pride which, under many a name
The spring of action in the human frame,
Gives, at all periods, through her wide domain,
Force to the heart, and fancy to the brain —
The fruit may fail, as time and chance decree,
But every age and foil produce the tree—

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That pride, the generous root of Grecian praise,
Lives yet, unweaken'd lives in modern days;
And oft it shoots, as many bards attest,

With attic vigour in an English breast!

Say, fervent Flaxman! when, with new delight,

Thy travels led thee first to feast thy fight

Where Sculpture reigns, and holds her triumph still, 210

With hoarded miracles of ancient skill;

When first thine eyes thofe darling forms furvey'd

That make the colours of defcription fade,

Feeling their potent charms in every vein,
Till admiration rofe almost to pain-

Prov'd not thy fwelling heart a proud defire
That, if pure Health will guard thy mental fire,
Thou, by impaffion'd Toil's repeated touch,
For thy dear England may'st achieve as much
As ever Grecian hand for Greece achiev'd,
When hands gave life to all the foul conceiv'd?

Feelings like these the fervent Milton found,
Roving, in ftudious youth, o'er Tuscan ground;

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