University of Virginia Library

To the ever honoured Dr JOHN WILSON on his incomparable Book of Ballads.

Not as a bush to thy more noble wine.
Doe we prefix these lines; what ever's thine
Commends it selfe; we pay our homage, due
To this diviner science and to you:
Did Orpheus Harpe cause beasts to dance, thine more
Thy loftier strains draw love from them, before
Did hate thy art and thee: this wonder shall
Raise thee to be a God, make him to fall.
Sure some Intelligence was sent from Jove
T'acquaint thee with the Harmony above;
How else with such composure are we blest.
'Tis Angells Musick though in Mortalls dresse
Those low and creeping words we Ballads call
Thy powre has raisd to be cœlestiall.
O prodigie of nature that couldst keep
Thy soul in tune, when all the world was deep
In discord: it's then time, for thee to set
Some sprightly Ayre, when there's most need of it.
When sacred Anthems ceased, and in stead
Of that more heavenly Musick, did succeed
Nothing but barking tones, when Organs were
By Trumpets silenc'd, then blown from the Quire;
Thou, borne to humour all, out of thy braine
Full fraught with melodye, didst hatch this traine
Of songs, from whose sweet concord always runs
Full streames of harmelesse mirth t'Apollo's sons.
These Charme our senses make our souls to dwell
Upon our ears, there to keep Sentinell.
Heer's Musick for the mean'st capacity,
And for the skillful'st too deep Harmony:
Hold still your penns then, cease for to rehearse
WILSON's deserved praise in untun'd verse.
And learne to sing those notes which rightly hit,
Speake more to's honour than th'accutest wit.
Proceed Harmonious soul, in this thine art.
More of thy Musick still to us impart,
For in these sheets thou shalt embalmed be,
And live a WILSON to Eternity.