Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same (And himself with it) that he thinks to frame,

Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn; For a good poet's made, as well as born. And such wert thou! Look how the father's face 65

Lives in his issue, even so the race

Of Shakspere's mind and manners brightly shines

In his well turnèd, and true filèd lines;
In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. 70
Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear,
And make those flights upon the banks of
Thames,

75

That so did take Eliza, and our James! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there! Shine forth, thou Star of poets, and with

40

To sordid flatteries, acts of strife, And sunk in that dead sea of life, So deep, as he did then death's waters sup, But that the cork of title buoyed him up.

The Antistrophe, or Counter-Turn Alas! but Morison fell young!

He never fell,- thou fall'st, my tongue. He stood a soldier to the last right end, 45 A perfect patriot and a noble friend;

But most, a virtuous son.

All offices were done

By him, so ample, full, and round,

In weight, in measure, number, sound, 50 As, though his age imperfect might appear, His life was of humanity the sphere.

The Epode, or Stand

Go now, and tell our days summed up with

And keep the one half from his Harry. But fate doth so alternate the design, Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine,-

IV

The Strophe, or Turn And shine as you exalted are;

Two names of friendship, but one star = Of hearts the union, and those not by

chance

Alas! alas! who's injured by my love? What merchant's ships have my sighs drowned?

Who says my tears have overflowed his ground?

When did my colds a forward spring remove?

When did the heats which my veins fill Add one more to the plaguy bill? 15 Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still

Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.

Call's what you will, we are made such by love;

Call her one, me another fly,

20

We're tapers too, and at our own cost die,

And we in us find th' eagle and the dove. The phoenix riddle hath more wit By us; we two being one, are it;

So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit. 25
We die and rise the same, and prove
Mysterious by this love.

We can die by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tomb or hearse
Our legend be, it will be fit for verse; 30
And if no piece of chronicle we prove,

We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
As well a well-wrought urn becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns all shall approve 35
Us canonized for love;

And thus invoke us, You, whom reverend love

Made one another's hermitage;

You, to whom love was peace, that now

is rage;

Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove

Into the glasses of your eyes;

40

So made such mirrors, and such spies,