University of Virginia Library

To his much respected and learned friend Master Robert Baron on his Booke.

Should my poore Muse presume to speake
Encom'ums in thy praise,
Amazement soone 'would strike her dumbe
Whilst she beheld thy rayes:
Yet give her leave, though that she can't
Add splendor to thy name
With her black spotts to shadow out
Thine ever sparkling fame.
Thy booke sweet friend doth seeme to me
A Royall treasury.
Thou Baron of Minerva's rich
Exchequer term'd mayst be
Heer's Pallas Palace, or White-Hall
Thy workes a glor'ous feast
Which would invite from Helicon
The pretty Nymphs to tast.
Here may be seene a Table deck't
Vpon Parnassus hill.
Here may be heard Apollo's harpe
With its harmon'ous shrill.
Here Nectar pure from Helicon
Like raine from clouds doth showre;
More sweetnesse doth each sentence yeeld
Then the Hyblæan floure.
Each gallant here may have his fill
Each Lady please her eye
Such are thy streames of eloquence
Such is thy poesie.
Did th' Epicure thy banquet tast
He soone would Bacchus scorne
And now corrouse full cups out of
Thine Amelthean horne:
For surfetting or giddinesse
Here is no neede to feare
Minerva's guests scarce ever knew
The heresie of beere.
Let Poets feigne unto themselves
An Aganippe fount
Or Muses sacred place, yet still
Thy booke doth them surmount.
Cease Criticks then to tell my muse
Of other Helicon
Heer's Pallas wine, her glory tis
That shee may sip thereon.