Thus your resuscitating praise,
Breathed life upon my dying lays.
REYNOLDS ADMIRES! flatt'ry so sweet
With blushing vanity I meet,
But Bard polite! how hard the task
Which with such elegance you ask.
When DIDO bad ENEAS tell
The woes he knew to paint so well —
Did he not tell the queen, she tore
His closing wounds, and drew fresh gore,
From stabs that time had almost heal'd? —
Such, REUBEN, such, the thorn conceal'd,
Within your verses' flow'ry spell,
Which barb'rous! dares my pen compel.