Here upon Fairy-land I tread, And, classic visions in my head, On Fielding's animated stage With all his combatants engage. The Landlord's pugilistic strife, The courtly morals of his Wife, The duel of the amorous pair, When Love consents to pudding fare, And Folly's brightly comic doom With local transport I resume, In Irish anger's cloudy head, Or by the pedant Barber fed.
But oh! what Muse can praise enough That Angel's implement, the Muff— Severe, though delicate rebuke, That Reason to the centre shook? Or Beauty's agonizing tear, That Love to Virtue could endear?
Immortal Artist! Nature's hand Has made thy pen the heart command; The boy, the girl, the old and young, Have upon thee enraptur'd hung. In thee with magic lustre glows The Shakespeare of dramatic prose:
The gallant Youth's ingenuous heart Scorns the deceitful Blifil's part: The Virgin, modest as the rose, Enamour'd of her mirrour grows: Blest that in her Sophia lives, The Hero of the Tale forgives.
