The works of Mr. Thomas Brown Serious and Comical, In Prose and Verse; In four volumes. The Fourth Edition, Corrected, and much Enlarged from his Originals never before publish'd. With a key to all his Writings |
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 | The works of Mr. Thomas Brown |  |
To Mr. Henry Purcel.
Long did dark Ignorance our Isle o'er spread,
Our Musick, and our Poetry lay dead.
But the dull Malice of a barbarous Age,
Fell most severe on David's sacred Page.
To wound his Sense, and quench his heav'n-born Fire,
Three vile Translators lewdly did conspire,
In holy Doggerel, and low chiming Prose,
The King and Poet they at once depose.
Vainly he did th'unrighteous change bemoan,
And languish'd in vile Numbers, not his own.
Nor stop his Usage here:
For what escap'd in Wisdom's ancient Rhimes,
Was murdred o'er and o'er in the Composers Chimes.
Our Musick, and our Poetry lay dead.
But the dull Malice of a barbarous Age,
Fell most severe on David's sacred Page.
To wound his Sense, and quench his heav'n-born Fire,
Three vile Translators lewdly did conspire,
In holy Doggerel, and low chiming Prose,
The King and Poet they at once depose.
112
And languish'd in vile Numbers, not his own.
Nor stop his Usage here:
For what escap'd in Wisdom's ancient Rhimes,
Was murdred o'er and o'er in the Composers Chimes.
What praises, Purcell, to thy skill are due,
Who hast to Judah's Monarch been so true.
By thee he moves our Hearts, by thee he reigns,
By thee shakes off his old inglorious Chains,
And sees new Honours done to his immortal Strains.
Not Italy, the Mother of each Art,
Did e'er a juster happier Son impart.
In thy performance we with wonder find
Corelli's Genius to Bassani joyn'd.
Sweetness combin'd with Majesty prepares
To wing Devotion with inspiring Airs.
Who hast to Judah's Monarch been so true.
By thee he moves our Hearts, by thee he reigns,
By thee shakes off his old inglorious Chains,
And sees new Honours done to his immortal Strains.
Not Italy, the Mother of each Art,
Did e'er a juster happier Son impart.
In thy performance we with wonder find
Corelli's Genius to Bassani joyn'd.
Sweetness combin'd with Majesty prepares
To wing Devotion with inspiring Airs.
Thus I unknown my gratitude express,
And conscious gratitude cou'd do no less;
This Tribute from each British Muse is due,
The whole Poetick Tribe's oblig'd to you.
For where the Author's scanty Words have fail'd,
Thy happier Graces, Purcell, have prevail'd.
And surely none but you, with equal ease,
Cou'd add to David, and make Durfy please.
And conscious gratitude cou'd do no less;
This Tribute from each British Muse is due,
The whole Poetick Tribe's oblig'd to you.
For where the Author's scanty Words have fail'd,
Thy happier Graces, Purcell, have prevail'd.
And surely none but you, with equal ease,
Cou'd add to David, and make Durfy please.
| The works of Mr. Thomas Brown | |