 | A Collection Of Poems |  |
To a Lady with Parnell's Poems.
In these sweet Lines for ever blended shineThe sprightly Poet, and the strict Divine:
Harmonious Truths these flowing Numbers teach
Which Pope might sing, or Tillotson might preach.
Fair Woman's Charms the first smooth Lays compose,
These too her thousand Vanities disclose;
If on the last too much the Poet dwells,
He only says what antient Hesiod tells:
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But as they were three thousand Years ago,
Of which the brightest, strongest Proof art Thou.
While Thee we know, and read his venom'd Lines,
With what just Shades the beauteous Contrast shines?
Then onward as he bends his tuneful Strain,
Here jocund Tales, there serious Precepts reign.
With Oberon the sprightly Dance we share,
And feel the anxious Hermit's pious Care.
Thus in some River's variable Tide,
Murm'ring midst Stones here shallow Waters glide;
Till Strength and Depth collecting as they go,
There with a silent solemn Pace they flow.
| A Collection Of Poems | |