On Mrs. Montagues Feather-Hangings.

The birds put off their every hue     To dress a room for Montagu.     The peacock sends his heavenly dyes,     His rainbows and his starry eyes;     The pheasant plumes, which round enfold     His mantling neck with downy gold;     The cock his archd tails azure show;     And, river-blanchd, the swan his snow.     All tribes beside of Indian name,     That glossy shine, or vivid flame,     Where rises, and where sets the day,     Whateer they boast of rich and gay,     Contribute to the gorgeous plan,     Proud to advance it all they can.     This plumage neither dashing shower,     Nor blasts, that shake the dripping bower,     Shall drench again or discompose,     But, screend from every storm that blows,     It boasts a splendour ever new,     Safe with protecting Montagu.     To the same patroness resort,     Secure of favour at her court,     Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought     Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought,     Which, though new-born, with vigour move,     Like Pallas springing armd from Jove     Imagination scattering round     Wild roses over furrowd ground,     Which Labour of his frown beguile,     And teach Philosophy a smile     Wit flashing on Religions side,     Whose fires, to sacred truth applied,     The gem, though luminous before,     Obtrude on human notice more,     Like sunbeams on the golden height     Of some tall temple playing bright     Well tutord Learning, from his books     Dismissd with grave, not haughty, looks,     Their order on his shelves exact,     Not more harmonious or compact     Than that to which he keeps confined     The various treasures of his mind     All these to Montagus repair,     Ambitious of a shelter there.     There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,     Their ruffled plumage calm refit     (For stormy troubles loudest roar     Around their flight who highest soar),     And in her eye, and by her aid,     Shine safe without a fear to fade.     She thus maintains divided sway     With yon bright regent of the day;     The Plume and Poet both we know     Their lustre to his influence owe;     And she the works of Phbus aiding,     Both Poet saves and Plume from fading.