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The ANSWER.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


193

The ANSWER.

[When I, in feeble Verse, essay'd]

When I, in feeble Verse, essay'd
Nassau and Anna's Praise,
A Lyric Muse flew o'er my Head,
And dropp'd a Branch of Bays:
I would have fix'd it on my Brow;
But Phoebus said, Forbear;
'Tis Vanity to touch the Bough,
And Sacrilege, to wear.
Give it the Bard, who boldly dares
Attempt the Roman Lyre;
Who wisely checks, but not impairs
The tow'ring Pindar's Fire.

194

Thus, Sir, to you, in Phoebus' Name,
The Laurel Wreath I send;
And, since the God denies me Fame,
Am glad it crowns my Friend.