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Phœbus' undoubted son! - - - -who clears the rust
Of the great Ancients, and shakes off their dust.
He on their works a nobler grace bestow'd;
He thought, and spoke in every word a god.
To grace this mighty bard, ye muses, bring
Your choicest flow'rs, and rifle all the spring;
See! how the Grecian bards, at distance thrown,
With rev'rence bow to this distinguisht son;
Immortal sounds his golden lines impart,
And naught can match his genius but his art.
Ev'n Greece turns pale, and trembles at his fame,
Which shades the lustre of her Homer's name.
'Twas then Ausonia saw ber language rise
In all its strength, and glory to the skies;
Such glory never could she boast before,
Nor could succeeding poets make it more.
From that blest period the poetick state
Ran down the precipice of time and fate;
Degenerate souls succeed, a wretched train,
And her old fame at once drew back again.
One, to his genius trusts, in ev'ry part,
And scorns the rules and discipline of art.