Which crept destructive up her lofty domes,
As ivy creeps around the graceful trunk
Of some tall oak. Her lofty domes no more,
Not ev'n the ruins of her pomp, remain ; 650
Not ev'n the dust they sunk in; by the breath
Of the Omnipotent offended hurl'd
Down to the bottom of the stormy deep :
Only the solitary rock remains,
Her ancient site ; a monument to those 655
Who toil and wealth exchange for sloth and pride.
BOOK III
Proceed, Arcadian Muse I resume the pipe
Of Hermes, long disus'd, tho' sweet the tone,
And to the songs of Nature's choristers
Harmonious. Audience pure by thy delight,
Tho' few ; for every note which Virtue wounds, 5
However pleasing to the vulgar herd,
To the purg'd ear is discord. Yet too oft
Has false dissembling Vice to am'rous airs
The reed apply'd and heedless youth allur'd ;
Too oft, with bolder sound, inflam'd the rage 10
Of horrid war. Let now the Fleecy looms
Direct our rural numbers, as of old,
When plains and sheepfolds were the Muses' haunts.
So thou, the friend of every virtuous deed
And aim, tho' feeble, shall these rural lays 15
Approve, O Heathcote ! whose benevolence
Visits our vallies, where the pasture spreads,
