Page:The Rosciad - Churchill (1761, 2nd edition).djvu/37

Whilst, in each sound, I hear the very man;
I can't catch words, and pity those who can.

Let Wits, like Spiders, from the tortur'd brain
Fine-draw the critic-web with curious pain; 810
The Gods,———a kindness I with thanks must pay,———
Have form'd me of a coarser kind of clay;
Nor stung with Envy, nor with Spleen diseas'd,
A poor dull creature, still with Nature pleas'd:
Hence to thy praises, Garrick, I agree, 815
And, pleas'd with Nature, must be pleas'd with Thee.

Now might I tell how silence reign'd throughout,
And deep attention hush'd the rabble rout;
How ev'ry claimant, tortur'd with desire,
Was pale as ashes, or as red as fire: 820
But, loose to Fame, the Muse more simply acts,
Rejects all flourish, and relates mere facts.

The judges, as the sev'ral parties came,
With Temper heard, with Judgment weigh'd each claim,
And in their sentence happily agreed, 825
In name of both, Great Shakespear thus decreed:

"If