The Poetical Recreations of Mr. Alexander Craig | ||
To his Lord and Master G. E. Dunbar.
Alas, that Time should be a foe to fame,
To clip the wings of true report in rage:
Alas, that th' earth should march a noble name:
Like to a bird thats compast with a kage:
Fame clip'd with time, & hemb'd with earth's embrace
By Poets yet out strips both time and place.
To clip the wings of true report in rage:
Alas, that th' earth should march a noble name:
Like to a bird thats compast with a kage:
Fame clip'd with time, & hemb'd with earth's embrace
By Poets yet out strips both time and place.
Thy fame (dear Lord) is frie from all disgrace,
(Still be it so till fire dissolue this frame)
Till when about the worlds broad spatious face,
My ryms shall run t'immortalize thy Name:
Foill to thy fame no time, no place shall giue,
So long as Craig, or yet his lines can liue.
(Still be it so till fire dissolue this frame)
Till when about the worlds broad spatious face,
My ryms shall run t'immortalize thy Name:
Foill to thy fame no time, no place shall giue,
So long as Craig, or yet his lines can liue.
The Poetical Recreations of Mr. Alexander Craig | ||