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173

TO THE GREAT Tetragrammaton, LORD PARAMOVNT OF Heaven AND Earth: His Humble Servant dedicates himselfe, and implores the Enfranchising of his Muse.

1

Great God th'indebted praises of thy glory,
If Man shold smother, or his Muse wax faint
To number forth; the stones wold make complaint,
And write a never-ending Story,
And, not without iust reason, say,
Mens hearts are more obdure than they.

2

Dismount from Heaven (O thou diviner Power)
Handsell my slender Pipe, breath (thou) upon it,
That it may run an everlasting Sonnet,
Which envious Time may not devoure:
Oh, let it sing to After-dayes
(When I am Dust) thy louder Praise.

174

3

Direct the footsteps of my sober Muse
To tread thy glorious path: For be it knowne,
She only seeks thy Glory, not her owne,
Nor rouzed for a second use;
If otherwise, O! may she never
Sing more, but be strucke dumbe for ever.