To the now unparelleled Sydney of his time, W. B., the
ingenuous Author of Brittannia's Pastorals.
Play on thy pipe new lessons, Willy strike
More such as these which may each shepheard like,
And if it chaunce Thetys doe once againe
Visit our coasts, bee thou the elected swayne,
To greet her with thy layes, let her admire
The varying accents of thy matchlesse lyre,
And so affect thee for thy poems sake,
Adopt thee hers, and thee her usher make,
But leave us not, blithe swayne, let Tavys streame
Leave of to murmurre listning to thy theame,
Lest thy sweet layes so great effect obtayne,
As here on land, so there upon the mayne,
As lasses here admired thy matchlesse verse,
So there the sea-nimphs still thy praise rehearse,
Twixt both a great contention it will breed,
Who hath most interest in thyne oaten reed,
Which harder will appeased bee than theires
Who strove to bee esteemed the blind bards heires:
Those claime thee theires in that thou dost forsake
Thy native cotes, and there thy mansion make:
The lambkins heere did friske to heare thee play,
Lesse nourished by theire grasse than with thy lay;
So would the dolphins then attend thy song,
And none left Triton whom to ride upon,
Which might incense him seeing one the frye,
And vaster sholes pressing to come most nye,
To heare thy melody, and to refuse
His trumpets sounds, to which they still did use
Before to thronge, to pry thee do not come,
But sweetly pipen at thy native home,
Continue still with us, and let our vales
Reverberate in eccho thy sweet tales.
Chr. Gewen, e Coll. Exon.
