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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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Upon a Friend Lamenting the Loss of Learning.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


66

Upon a Friend Lamenting the Loss of Learning.

Are there such Arts, as Scholars liberal call?
To me, alass! they are not Liberall;
VVell then, by this I see that every Man
Is not cut out for a Corinthian.
But could there be, or did my Friends divine,
No Merc'rie carv'd out of this block of mine?
Did they so bitter Root, my Youth deter,
Bitter? ah me! my loss is bitterer,
For wanting Learning, O how pleasant fruit!
VVhilst others freely talk, I must sit mute.
I'm not a Man ordain'd for Dover Court,
For I'm a hearer still, where I resort.
And give attention to the words I hear,
As if even then I at some Sermon were.
I am a shadow, or a Bell without
A Clapper, for my noise comes never out.
Let others by my looks my meaning spell,
I must say nothing, if I would say well.
The Proverb says, Art has no Enemy,
But Ignorance, that Proverb's crost in me,

67

I envy no Man his acquired Parts,
But am an honourer of the generous Arts.
Howe'er my brains be coffin'd up in bark,
For though my eyes be clear, my head is dark.
Nay, even an Eccho in the witty throng,
Can answer better, though she have no Tongue.
Thus, while I'm mute, to purchase wisdom by't,
My very face does play the Hypocrite.