The grand exploits of half an Iliad rise,
And flash at once on our astonish’d eyes----
X.
Nor serves this sweet instructive art
T’ inform the intellect alone,
But often melts th’ obdurate heart
And wakes it’s pænitential groan---
For when in some great Master’s draught,
With genius as with judgement fraught,
Nail’d haply to th’ accursed tree,