Part of the NINTH ODE L Of the FOURTH BOOK. EST you should think that verse shall die, Taught, on the wings of Truth to fly Tho' daring Milton fits fublime, Sages and Chiefs long fince had birth Ere Cæfar was, or Newton nam'd; These rais'd new Empires o'er the Earth, And Thofe, new Heav'ns and Syftems fram'd. Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's pride! EPISTLE то ROBERT Earl of OXFORD and Earl MORTIMER. UCH were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet fung, "Till Death untimely ftop'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld, and loft! admir'd and mourn'd! With fofteft manners, gentleft arts adorn'd! Bleft in each science, bleft in ev'ry strain ! Dear to the Mufe! to HARLEY dear-in vain ! ་ 5 For him, thou oft haft bid the World attend, Who, careless now of Int'reft, Fame, or Fate, NOTES. Epift. to Robert Earl of Oxford.] This Epiftle was fent to the Earl of Oxford with Dr. Parnelle's Poems publifhed by our Author, after the faid Earl's Imprisonment in the Tower, and Retreat into the Country, in the Year 1721. P. D2 Or |