Thy changeful genius, patient and acute,

Toil'd on coloffal forms, or play'd with the minute;

And Nature own'd each work, with fond furprize,

True to her foul, though faithlefs to her fize.
The hallow'd bulk of thy Tarentine Jove

Check'd the proud spoilers of each sacred grove;
Roman rapacity, in plunder's hour,

Paus'd, and rever'd the mighty sculptor's power.

Thy Hercules, the table's grace and guard,

Rais'd to extatic joy a Roman bard,.

Whose focial Muse delighted to rehearse

The festive statue's charms in friendly verse;

Prais'd the small form where force and spirit dwelt,

Small to be feen, but mighty to be felt;
And, pleas'd in grateful numbers to relate
The sculptur'd powers, Felicity and Fate,
Told how young Ammon, with affection's pride,
Drew martial fire from this infpiring guide —
This, the choice idol of his life, carefs'd

To prompt his battle, or protect his rest—

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To this, when poifon forc'd his frequent fighs,
Turning, in death, his elevated eyes,

He view'd the pain-tried power with fresh delight,
And fed his fearless spirit on the fight.

The life of Ammon clos'd, the ftatue pass'd

To a new victor of a direr caft.

With ruthless Hannibal, by Rome abhorr'd,

The priz'd affociate of the Punic lord,

This idol vifited Italia's fhore,

And faw Rome's eagles drench'd in Roman gore:

But when the African, fo fiercely great,

Fell by the dark viciffitude of fate,

This fculptur'd Hercules, ftill known to Fame,

As worshipp'd by a chief of highest name,
Felt, e'en in Rome, his influence increas'd,
As the prefiding power of Sylla's feast.
The darling image Time at last consign'd
To a new mafter, of a nobler mind.

Hail, gentle Vindex! 'twas not thine to buy

A name immortal at a price too high.

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No bloody fword, with mangled Nature's pain,
Carv'd thee a paffage into glory's fane,

But manners sweetly mild, and mental grace,
In Mem'ry's temple fix thy purer place.

Thy genuine praise Affection gladly penn'd;
For Arts were thy delight, a poet was thy friend.
Happy distinction! and rever'd by Time!
Sweet in its use, in confequence fublime!
Accomplish'd Vindex! all thy sculptur'd store,
Though Genius fill'd with life the finish'd ore—
All that thy perfect taste, by Fortune's aid,
With liberal joy collected and display'd—
All, all in dark Perdition's gulph are drown'd,
Nor can an atom of the wreck be found.

But shining still, and still in lustre strong,

Such is the facred power of friendly fong,

Thy virtues are beheld in living lays,

Where feeling Statius thy pure feast pourtrays,

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And makes thy cherish'd Arts confederate in thy praise.

He, just to merit of benignant mein,
Fondly describes the master of the scene

So free from fenfeless pride and sensual vice,
Of mind so polish'd, and of taste so nice,
That under his regard, true honour's test,
Lyfippus might have wish'd his works to rest *.

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To reft! vain word, that fuits not scenes like these,

Where empires fluctuate as Time decrees!

The mighty defpot, of a double sway,

The guide of growth, the monarch of decay,

Grants, ever busy in the changeful plan,

No lafting quiet to the works of man.

Witness, Lyfippus, that stupendous frame

Form'd by thy pupil for his country's fame;
Who, when foil'd War renounc'd her rich abodes,
Rear'd the proud trophy of triumphant Rhodes
In giant fplendour which the world amaz'd,
Protentous in his bulk this proud Apollo blaz'd;

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* See NOTE VIII.

So large, fo lofty, that, beneath his base,
Mortals feem'd fhrunk below the pigmy race.

Yet let not vain, fenforious spleen deride
This Pagan monument of tow'ring pride.

Great in his aim, in patriot purpose good,
A glorious witnefs the Coloffus ftood:
How his brave ifle, in valour's trying hour,
Joy'd to refift Invafion's ruffian power;
Still to invading arms this fortune fall,

To deck those ifles they threaten to enthrall.

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But with what speed can time and chance destroy

The piles of honour, and the pomp of joy!
Though rear'd with ableft art that might defy
Tempestuous seasons and a raging sky,
Subtler Destruction waits the fovereign block,
The deep foundations of his ifland rock;
Earth, as infulted, to her center shakes,

Th' enormous idol reels-he falls-he breaks!

Amazement's eye his smallest fragments fill,

In ruin mighty, and a wonder still :

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