Sonnet to Edward Gibbon, Esq.

WITH proud delight th' imperial Founder gaz'd
On the new beauty of his second Rome,
When on his eager eye rich temples blaz'd,
And his fair city rose in youthful bloom:
A pride more noble may thy heart assume,
O GIBBON! gazing on thy growing work;
In which, constructed for a happier doom,
No hasty marks of vain ambition lurk:
Thou may'st deride both Time's destructive sway,
And baser Envy's beauty-mangling dirk;
Thy gorgeous fabrick, plann'd with wise delay,
Shall baffle foes more savage than the Turk:
As ages multiply its fame shall rise,
And earth must perish ere its splendor dies.