Sion in distress or, the groans of the Protestant chruch [by Benjamin Keach] |
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To my friend the AUTHOR, Upon His REVIV'D POEM.
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 | Sion in distress |  |
To my friend the AUTHOR, Upon His REVIV'D POEM.
Here's
Grief in Raptures! Who could thus infuse
All Strains of Sorrow? No Aonian Muse
Such Sacred Rhapsodies could e'er inspire:
Nor were they borrow'd from Apollo's Quire.
No Inspiration from the Thespian Spring,
Does teach our Poet in this mode to sing.
He sucks no Hippocrene, nor feeds upon
The fancy'd Dew of Pagan Helicon.
He mounts no Pegasus, nor gathers Drops
Distill'd by Clio from Parnassian Tops.
These are but Whimsies—Some Seraphick Fire
His Muse did with this Mourning Song inspire
Who can but, in the highest Notes of Grief,
Weep Tears in Verse, when SION wants Relief?
Such as from Art their lofty Strains do borrow,
Do but describe an Artificial Sorrow:
But his is purely Natural: for we
Perceive it comes from perfect Sympathy.
His clear discerning Soul her danger sees
Approaching on by unperceiv'd degrees.
He gives us Warning to prevent the Stroke,
To leave our Sins, and Mercy to invoke.
Here's a Prophetick Glass, where we may view
The swift Destruction that will (else) ensue.
But Friend, we thank thee that thou hast not left us
Without some hope, nor has thy Book bereft us
Of Consolation; for the SCARLET WHORE
Is there so Sentenc'd, that She'll rise no more.
All Strains of Sorrow? No Aonian Muse
Such Sacred Rhapsodies could e'er inspire:
Nor were they borrow'd from Apollo's Quire.
No Inspiration from the Thespian Spring,
Does teach our Poet in this mode to sing.
He sucks no Hippocrene, nor feeds upon
The fancy'd Dew of Pagan Helicon.
He mounts no Pegasus, nor gathers Drops
Distill'd by Clio from Parnassian Tops.
These are but Whimsies—Some Seraphick Fire
His Muse did with this Mourning Song inspire
Weep Tears in Verse, when SION wants Relief?
Such as from Art their lofty Strains do borrow,
Do but describe an Artificial Sorrow:
But his is purely Natural: for we
Perceive it comes from perfect Sympathy.
His clear discerning Soul her danger sees
Approaching on by unperceiv'd degrees.
He gives us Warning to prevent the Stroke,
To leave our Sins, and Mercy to invoke.
Here's a Prophetick Glass, where we may view
The swift Destruction that will (else) ensue.
But Friend, we thank thee that thou hast not left us
Without some hope, nor has thy Book bereft us
Of Consolation; for the SCARLET WHORE
Is there so Sentenc'd, that She'll rise no more.
| Sion in distress | |