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Th' inspired few, whose glowing breasts
Refin'd 'em for Apollo's Priests;
When mystick heat their bloods did fire,
Themselves did from themselves retire.
Banisht the mortal from their breast,
That Presence-Chamber richly drest;
The glorious Furniture all shin'd;
For with Apollo's self 'twas lin'd.
What charming words might needs fume hence,
Mixt with that neigh'bring Influence,
Whose thickning breath appear'd to be
A Chariot for the Deity.
Refin'd 'em for Apollo's Priests;
When mystick heat their bloods did fire,
Themselves did from themselves retire.
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That Presence-Chamber richly drest;
The glorious Furniture all shin'd;
For with Apollo's self 'twas lin'd.
What charming words might needs fume hence,
Mixt with that neigh'bring Influence,
Whose thickning breath appear'd to be
A Chariot for the Deity.
Were my Productions but so blest,
Your Ladiship might be exprest.
But Poets now heed no such fires;
Yet still some Deity inspires.
Venus or Bacchus heightens sence,
Tho with malignant influence.
Those Dæmons now profane our Groves
With vain, or with dishonest loves;
Making a Desart of the place,
With'ring the Mirtles and the Bays:
The Fiend thus, with contagious vice,
Blasted the Trees of Paradice.
But, Madam, your illustrious name
Is both my Influence and Theme;
Refining all my Smoak to flame.
Hence baffled Poetry may thrive,
And Oracles again revive.
Its clouded beams may brighter rise,
Kindled by th' Sun-shine of your eyes,
As Persians fire their Sacrifice.
'Till th' Muses have that bliss obtain'd,
They're like fall'n Stars in darkness chain'd.
Then farewel Poetry!
Your Ladiship might be exprest.
But Poets now heed no such fires;
Yet still some Deity inspires.
Venus or Bacchus heightens sence,
Tho with malignant influence.
Those Dæmons now profane our Groves
With vain, or with dishonest loves;
Making a Desart of the place,
With'ring the Mirtles and the Bays:
The Fiend thus, with contagious vice,
Blasted the Trees of Paradice.
But, Madam, your illustrious name
Is both my Influence and Theme;
Refining all my Smoak to flame.
Hence baffled Poetry may thrive,
And Oracles again revive.
Its clouded beams may brighter rise,
Kindled by th' Sun-shine of your eyes,
As Persians fire their Sacrifice.
'Till th' Muses have that bliss obtain'd,
They're like fall'n Stars in darkness chain'd.
Then farewel Poetry!
189
—But stay—
Venus may prove Urania.
She may injoy that happy fate,
If she your virtues imitate.
Her Chariot then, through th' heav'nly lawn,
By Doves, not Sparrow will be drawn:
And virtuous Love henceforward boast,
You have restor'd what Venus lost.
Venus may prove Urania.
She may injoy that happy fate,
If she your virtues imitate.
Her Chariot then, through th' heav'nly lawn,
By Doves, not Sparrow will be drawn:
And virtuous Love henceforward boast,
You have restor'd what Venus lost.
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