Sonnets, Sonnet XIII

Thou, who successive in that honor'd seat Presid'st, the feuds of jarring Chiefs to 'swage, To check the boisterons force of Party rage, Raise modest worth, and guide the high debate,

Sometimes retiring from the toils of State, Thou turn'st th' instructive Greek or Roman page, Or what our British Bards of later age In scarce inferior numbers can relate:

Amid this feast of Mind, when Fancy's Child, Sweet SHAKESPEAR, wraps the soul to virtuous deed, When SPENSER warbling tunes his Doric lays, Or the first Man from Paradise exil'd Great MILTON sings, can ought my rustic reed Presume to sound, that may deserve thy praise?