University of Virginia Library


175

[4] To his friend the Author.

May none but Phoebus kisse thy lines with sight,
Hee'l doe thee right.
Tis not for mortals once to dare to scanne,
Thy height 'bove man
This speakes thy fellowship with supreme gods,
There's naught puts oddes,
But lifes eternitie: tush, thy lines shall be,
A saintlike canon of thy memory.
Be bold then to the world, and dumbe that tongue
That dares thee wrong:
Yet thus give leave to vulgar braines to clap
Agnostus cap
Upon their heads, whose braines doe much lesse crave,
Then I deprave.
Scorne blast their dwellings, in simplicity
That spit their poyson; none shall venome thee.
WILLIAM DENNYE.