The Poetical Works of the Right Hon. George Granville, Lord Lansdowne/81
TO MY FRIEND
MR. JOHN DRYDEN,
On his ſeveral excellent Tranſlations of the Ancient Poets.
As flow’rs tranſplanted from a ſouthern ſky
But hardly bear, or in the raiſing die;
Miſſing their native ſun at beſt retain
But a faint odour, and ſurvive with pain;
Thus ancient wit, in modern numbers taught,5
Wanting the warmth with which its author wrote,
Is a dead image and a ſenſeleſs draught:
While we transfuſe the nimble ſpirit flies,
Eſcapes unſeen, evaporates, and dies.
Who then to copy Roman wit deſire10
Muſt imitate with Roman force and fire,
In elegance of ſtyle and phraſe the ſame,
And in the ſparkling genius and the flame:
Whence we conclude, from thy tranſlated ſong,
So juſt, ſo ſmooth, ſo ſoft, and yet ſo ſtrong,15
Celeſtial Poet! ſoul of Harmony!
That ev’ry Genius was reviv’d in thee.
Thy trumpet ſounds, the dead arc rais’d to light,
Never to die, and take to heav’n their flight:
Deck’d in thy verſe, as clad with rays, they ſhine,20
All glorify’d, immortal, and divine.
As Britain in rich ſoil abounding wide,
Furniſh’d for uſe, for luxury, and pride,
Yet ſpreads her wanton ſails on ev’ry ſhore
For foreign wealth, inſatiate ſtill of more,25
To her own wool the ſilks of Aſia joins,
And to her plenteous harveſts Indian mines;
So Dryden, not contented with the fame
Os his own Works, tho’ an immortal name,
To lands remote ſends forth his learned Muſe,30
The nobleſt ſeeds of foreign wit to chuſe.
Feaſting our ſenſe ſo many various ways,
Say, is ‘’t thy bounty, or thy thirſt of praiſe?
That, by comparing others, all might ſee
Who moſt excell’d are yet excell’d by thee.35