Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
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Epistle the Ninth. TO Dr. Edward Milward,
On his Design to publish the History of the British physical and chirurgical Authors from the earlyest Records of Time to the present.
'Tis gen'rous thus departed Worth to saveFrom black Oblivion, humble Merit's Grave:
How many Sons of Æsculapius ly
Forgotten now, which you forbid to dy!
What great Improvers of that Art divine,
Which was Machaon's once, and now is thine,
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From royal Alfred down to learned Mead,
Have long, from Age to Age, adorn'd our Isle,
Where the fair Arts and fairer Freedom smile!
Yet Time, to tyranise who never fails,
Has cover'd Half their Worth with sable Veils,
And some perhaps would cloud in endless Night,
Did you not call them once again to Light:
As with his Scythe the great Destroyer stands,
Mowing with Heart relentless as his Hands,
His Motion you arrest, and blunt the Blade,
Forbiding what should longer bloom to fade:
You with new Stars adorn our Hemisphere,
And fix another Constellation here.
In this Assemblage mounting to the Skys
Poets and Kings, bright Luminations, rise:
While in the Heav'ns their Places you prepare,
You gain, my Friend, a Seat among them there.
January, 1742.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |