Behold th' ATHENIAN sage, whose piercing mind
Had trac'd the wily lab'rinths of mankind,
When now condemn'd, he leaves his infant care
To all those evils man is born to bear.
Not to his friends alone the charge he yields,
But nobler hopes on juster motives builds;
Bids e'en his foes their future steps attend,
And dare to censure, if they dar'd offend.
Wou'd thus the poet trust his offspring forth,
Or bloom'd our BRITAIN with ATHENIAN worth:
Wou'd the brave foe th' imperfect work engage
With honest freedom, not with partial rage,
What just productions might the world surprize!
What other POPES, what other MAROS rise!