How great the Curse, if such, alone, shou'd stand The modern Classicks of my native Land? A higher Spirit did our Country boast,— But ah! the antient Energy how lost! DOUGLAS, BUCHANAN, DRUMMOND, and the rest, Of Fame immortal! different Sense express'd. Heav'ns! what Ideas fill'd each mighty Mind! Their Works appear'd the Mirrour of Mankind! Nor judg'd the Readers worse than Poets writ: They ne'er paid Money, but for Sterling Wit. Then Giants liv'd!—
