But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop Man praises man. Defert in arts or arms Wins public honour; and ten thousand fit Patiently prefent at a facred fong, Commemoration-mad; content to hear (Oh wonderful effect of mufic's pow'r!) Meffiah's eulogy for Handel's fake! But lefs, methinks, than facrilege might ferve(For, was it lefs, what heathen would have dar'd To ftrip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, And hang it up in honour of a man ?) Much less might ferve, when all that we defign And give the day to a musician's praise. Or can, the more than Homer of his age? That His most holy book from whom it came And measure of th' offence, rebukes a deed Lefs impious than abfurd, and owing more To want of judgment than to wrong design. So in the chapel of old Ely House, When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third, Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, go In pilgrimage to bow before his fhrine. The theatre, too fmall, fhall fuffocate Its fqueez'd contents, and more than it admits Ungratified. For there fome noble lord Shall stuff his shoulders with king Richard's bunch, Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak, And strut, and ftorm, and ftraddle, ftamp, and ftare, To fhow the world how Garrick did not act For Garrick was a worshipper himself; He drew the liturgy, and fram'd the rites 8 And folemn ceremonial of the day, And call'd the world to worship on the banks Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct. The mulb'ry-tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs; Still facred, and preferves with pious care. Some fhout him, and fome hang upon in 's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave Their 'kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy: While others, not so satisfied, unhorse The gilded equipage, and, turning loofe His fteeds, ufurp a place they well deferve. Why? what has charm'd them? Hath he fav'd the state? No. Doth he purpose its falvation? No. That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head Thus idly do we wafte the breath of praise, And just direction facred, to a thing Doom'd to the duft, or lodg'd already there! The task now falls into the public hand; And I, contented with an humble theme, near, |