Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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To John Dryden Esq; Poet Laureat and Historiographer Royal, his Honoured Friend.
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To John Dryden Esq; Poet Laureat and Historiographer Royal, his Honoured Friend.
My Muse, when heated with Poetic Flame,
Longs to be singing thy exalted Name;
The noble Task she sets before my Eyes,
And prompts me to begin the Enterprise;
Longs to be singing thy exalted Name;
The noble Task she sets before my Eyes,
And prompts me to begin the Enterprise;
My eager Hand no sooner takes the Pen,
But seiz'd with Trembling, lets it fall agen:
My tim'rous Heart bids stop, and whisp'ring says,
What canst thou sing that may advance his Praise;
But seiz'd with Trembling, lets it fall agen:
My tim'rous Heart bids stop, and whisp'ring says,
What canst thou sing that may advance his Praise;
His Quill's Immortal, and his Flights are higher
Than Eye of Humane Fancy can aspire:
A lasting Fountain, from whose Streams do flow
Eternal Honours where his Works shall go.
Than Eye of Humane Fancy can aspire:
A lasting Fountain, from whose Streams do flow
Eternal Honours where his Works shall go.
From Him the Wits their Vital Humour bring:
As Brooks have their first Currents from the Spring;
Could my unskillful Pen augment his Fame,
Should my own eternize with his Name.
As Brooks have their first Currents from the Spring;
Could my unskillful Pen augment his Fame,
Should my own eternize with his Name.
But hold my Muse, thy Theme too great decline,
Remember that the Subject is Divine:
His Works do more than Pen, or Tongues can say,
Each Line does Beauty, Grace and Wit display.
Remember that the Subject is Divine:
His Works do more than Pen, or Tongues can say,
Each Line does Beauty, Grace and Wit display.
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