The
Cave
of
POPE
.
A
Prophecy
.
By
R—
D—
.
WHEN
dark
oblivion
in
her
sable
cloak
Shall
wrap
the
names
of
heroes
and
of
kings
;
And
their
high
deeds
submitting
to
the
stroke
Of
time
shall
fall
amongst
forgotten
things
:
Then
(
for
the
Muse
that
distant
day
can
see
)
On
Thames's
bank
the
stranger
shall
arrive
,
With
curious
wish
thy
sacred
grott
to
see
,
Thy
sacred
grott
shall
with
thy
name
survive
.
Grateful
posterity
,
from
age
to
age
,
With
pious
hand
the
ruin
shall
repair
:
Some
good
old
man
,
to
each
enquiring
sage
Pointing
the
place
,
shall
cry
,
"
The
Bard
liv'd
there
,
"
Whose
song
was
musick
to
the
listening
ear
,
"
Yet
taught
audacious
vice
and
folly
,
shame
:
"
Easy
his
manners
,
but
his
life
severe
;
"
His
word
alone
gave
infamy
or
fame
.
"
Sequester'd
from
the
fool
and
coxcomb-wit
,
"
Beneath
this
silent
roof
the
Muse
he
found
;
"
'Twas
here
he
slept
inspir'd
,
or
sate
and
writ
;
"
Here
with
his
friends
the
social
glass
went
round
.
"
With
aweful
veneration
shall
they
trace
The
steps
which
thou
so
long
before
hast
trod
;
With
reverend
wonder
view
the
solemn
place
,
From
whence
thy
genius
soar'd
to
nature's
God
.
Then
,
some
small
gem
,
or
moss
,
or
shining
ore
,
Departing
,
each
shall
pilfer
,
in
fond
hope
To
please
their
friends
on
ev'ry
distant
shore
,
Boasting
a
relick
from
the
cave
of
POPE
.