The Lady-Errant A Tragi-Comedy |
Vpon the Ingenuous Author and his Poems.
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The Lady-Errant | ||
Vpon the Ingenuous Author and his Poems.
Lend me (Blest spirit) from thy new-born WingThe meanest Feather, and thy worth I'll sing:
What though the Muses springs are almost dry,
Each heart may find a Fountain in the Eye
Wherein to dip its quill; and 'tis most fit
To mourn, since Death hath over-master'd Wit.
Yet maugre Fate, thy Pregnant Ingeny
Revives thy Dust, and dreads no Victory:
This Birth we owe to Death: so, the Old gone,
A new sprung Phœnix to the World is shown.
Thy Poems are the Lectures of our Age,
Which teach Divinity to tread the Stage;
And new apparell Vertue by thy Dress,
That through thy Fansies she gains Comeliness:
Perhaps our Times may love her now, she looks
So like her selfe, through all thy learned Books;
And undisguised Vice may thence descry
How neer she is to her sad Destiny:
Then died'st Thou well, thus to revenge our Sins;
And, dead, like Sampson kill'st most Philistines.
I.C. B.D. of Ch. Ch.
The Lady-Errant | ||