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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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To the fair Madam M. H. at Sharington-Hall in Norfolk.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


1

To the fair Madam M. H. at Sharington-Hall in Norfolk.

Inspire Me now or never (Muse)
My Theam is higher than it use
And yet, unless Her Self inspire,
My Muse and I are ne're the Higher.
Fancy sublime thy self, and raise
Some rapture, 'tis an Angel's praise;
I can a due to Great Ones give,
But She is a Superlative;

2

What's writ of Her must be exprest
Above my Self a Sphear at least;
Others, (and that too may suffice)
I serve with single Sacrifice:
But to her Altar he that comes,
Can bring no less than heccatombs.
Ten thousand Hearts may Sacrifice
And burn themselves in her bright Eyes.
Her Face is a perpetual May,
And fairer than Joves milky way.
Something there's in't does ravish Me,
But I cannot tell what 'tis I see:
For, if I cou'd define the bliss;
Alas! it were not what it is.
Her Soul does through her Body shine,
And makes the whole, wholly Divine:
Her Ingenuity is such
Impossible to praise too much:
Nor had my Language been so free,
But here's no fear of flattery:
For, when I've done, I've sed no more
Than all that knew Her, knew before.
Go number all the Stars of Heaven;
Her praises, and those Stars are even.
I might her Trophies higher rear,
And truly too, but I forbear
Lest if Her Fame be further hurl'd
I make a Bonfire of the World;

3

Some happier Pen, his own and virtue's Friend
Come and Begin Her Praises where I End.