 | Mirza |  |
TO HIS MAIESTIE.
Sir,
To wait on YOU, the Persian MIRZA'S come
From the fair shades of his Elizium:
If all the wrongs that's Innocence opprest
Obtain one sigh from YOUR heroick Breast,
He'l think them ga[illeg.], having preferr'd Him to
YOUR Royall Knowledges and perhaps done so
More then his Birth-right bad; for he hopes now
Not onely to delight, but profit YOU,
In warning to eschew what spoild his Right,
The Flatterer, and too powerfull Favourite.
From the fair shades of his Elizium:
If all the wrongs that's Innocence opprest
Obtain one sigh from YOUR heroick Breast,
He'l think them ga[illeg.], having preferr'd Him to
YOUR Royall Knowledges and perhaps done so
More then his Birth-right bad; for he hopes now
Not onely to delight, but profit YOU,
In warning to eschew what spoild his Right,
The Flatterer, and too powerfull Favourite.
In old Time, sacred was the Poets Pen,
And usefull to eternize worthy men:
To Rescue Vertue from the Furies spight,
And lift her Palm the higher for the weight.
And I could wish it the next Ages Song,
Had MIRZA not die'd, He'd not liv'd so long:
His (written) Ghost looks brighter in his Bay
Then He had in the Crown of Persia.
So shall it be: Gain from His Losse shall flow,
And Life from Death, if YOU, Great SIR, say so.
And usefull to eternize worthy men:
To Rescue Vertue from the Furies spight,
And lift her Palm the higher for the weight.
Had MIRZA not die'd, He'd not liv'd so long:
His (written) Ghost looks brighter in his Bay
Then He had in the Crown of Persia.
So shall it be: Gain from His Losse shall flow,
And Life from Death, if YOU, Great SIR, say so.
Baron,
| Mirza | |