 | The Metamorphosis of Tabacco |  |
[Graunt me smooth vtt'rance Muses to reherse]
Graunt me smooth vtt'rance Muses to reherseThe pleasing smoothnesse of thy worthy verse:
If there be words fram'd by admired wits
To sing thy praise, those words my verse befits,
But such are scant, and there's not one remaines
Can giue thee due, none worth enough containes
To sing thy praise in an vp-raised straine,
And giue desert to thy admired paine:
Feare not the censure of each babbling tongue,
They care not whom they pleasure, whom they wrong:
Respect it not if fooles thy Muse miscall,
Thy paine, her worth deserues applause of all:
In whose adoring if my pen offends,
My heart my pens defaults will make amends.
Z. D.
| The Metamorphosis of Tabacco | |