War, that does on plenty feed.
Recitativo.
Phœbus with joy looks Britain round to see,
The happy state of his lov’d Poetry,
To Eusdes, Cibber gloriously succeeds;
Wit triumphs most, when bard like farmer feeds!
Then truly are we great, when he can shew
The way his own out-doings to out-do.
Cast, envious Poets, on his Verse your Eyes,
Behold the offspring of his brain.