A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters Comical and Serious. By Jo. Harvey |
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To the Ingenious Author of the following POEM.
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 | A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters |  |
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To the Ingenious Author of the following POEM.
No
, happy Man! The Bays shall not be thine;
I'll pluck 'em from thy Brows, to place on mine,
How cou'd you think I e'er wou'd quit the Field,
And undisputed Laurels tamely yield?
What tho' with Ease and Strength your Numbers flow?
In mine, sure, equal Ease and Strength I'll show.
But ah! in yours a heav'nly Train appear!
Awful their Beauties, and their Charms severe!
With Love and Reverence they strike mine Eyes,
And force me, spite o' me, to yield the Prize.
To sing of such a Heav'n, with such Success!
A Pope, or Tickel had expected less.
But stay, with the same Breath I praise and blame,
With you an equal Share of Bays I claim;
Tho' you deserve a greater Share than them.
When Envy blinds us, when misled by Pride,
Reason must yield, and Judgment cease to guide:
So if a Charioteer should drop the Rein,
Th'unruly Coursers, whom no Bit restrain,
Scour o'er the Fields, the Coach in Pieces flies;
Here ly the Wheels, and there the Coachman lies.
I'll pluck 'em from thy Brows, to place on mine,
How cou'd you think I e'er wou'd quit the Field,
And undisputed Laurels tamely yield?
What tho' with Ease and Strength your Numbers flow?
In mine, sure, equal Ease and Strength I'll show.
But ah! in yours a heav'nly Train appear!
Awful their Beauties, and their Charms severe!
With Love and Reverence they strike mine Eyes,
And force me, spite o' me, to yield the Prize.
To sing of such a Heav'n, with such Success!
A Pope, or Tickel had expected less.
But stay, with the same Breath I praise and blame,
With you an equal Share of Bays I claim;
Tho' you deserve a greater Share than them.
When Envy blinds us, when misled by Pride,
Reason must yield, and Judgment cease to guide:
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Th'unruly Coursers, whom no Bit restrain,
Scour o'er the Fields, the Coach in Pieces flies;
Here ly the Wheels, and there the Coachman lies.
I yield, I yield! I own my self o'ercome;
The Beauties of your Verse have struck me dumb.
I'm humbly pleas'd to be the Muses Friend,
You to a nobler Title now pretend;
The bright Assembly's Poet! that's a Name
To which Apollo proudly might lay Claim.
The Beauties of your Verse have struck me dumb.
I'm humbly pleas'd to be the Muses Friend,
You to a nobler Title now pretend;
The bright Assembly's Poet! that's a Name
To which Apollo proudly might lay Claim.
| A Collection of Miscellany poems and letters | |