Philomela | ||
126
REPLY TO HUMAN LOVE.
Some Tuneful Being now my Breast inspireWith Thoughts as Noble, as Celestial Fire;
For Clitus is my Theme;
But ah in vain, borne on Pindaric Wings,
My vent'rous Muse
The mighty Aim pursues:
For to his native Skies, still Clitus mounts and sings,
And we are distant still, to an Extream.
127
While Angels croud, and listen to his Song;
And not one Angel-Critic in the Throng
Who durst correct a Thought.
So Nobly are they dress'd,
So Gracefully express'd;
So smoothly glide the Numbers from his Tongue;
So well his Touch the charming Strings Obey,
That all his Heav'nly Auditors admire,
To hear him sing, with as much Skill as They.
His Voice and Theme did so their Harps inspire;
That the glad Anthem they repeat agen,
Glory to God on high, Peace and Good-Will to Men.
Philomela | ||