University of Virginia Library

To Mr ---

[Much am I pleas'd, to hear your new design]

Much am I pleas'd, to hear your new design,
For, my Friend's happiness I reckon mine.
I should repine, to bid these Shades adieu,
Not fond of praise my self, but wish it you.
Still may applause your undertakings bless,
Your rising Muse be Wing'd with swift success,
Esteem'd by all, for you deserve no less.
As some young Bird, who late has taken Wing,
With fond desire in the warm Air to Sing.
When he has felt the Sun's enliv'ning Ray,
Flutt'ring sometimes around his Nest does Play,
And Chirps to call his Fellow Bird away.
So you, now Cherish'd by your Patron's Love,
With fonder hopes of a warm Season move,
And Sing to me, to meet you, in the Air above.
But more assurance than the Bird's you find,
For, trusting him, you do not beat on Wind.
Scarce can I hold, for I would fain commend
That gen'rous Man, who is the Muses Friend.
Long in full Tides may his smooth Fortunes flow,
He Merits Plenty, who bestows it so.
Whilst from his lasting Springs small Streams distill,
His over-flowings shall your Current fill.
Such bounty sure may be dispens'd to you,
Poets, like Kings, are Heav'n's Anointed too.
But ah! Their Art is now debas'd, and low,
It only serves to make a gawdy show.
The shining Light their Phæbus gives, they use,
But the productive, vig'rous heat, abuse.
They, whose true merits can a Patron claim,
(And such there are, who part with Gold for Fame,)
Should Honours, worthy their true greatness, raise,
The gen'rous few deserve the nobler praise.
You, to grow fam'd, must lofty'st Subjects choose,
For still applause bears up the Tow'ring Muse.
While round your Head a Crown of Laurel spreads,
Me shall my Groves content, and grateful Shades.
I on no other's greatness would depend,
But make my own Humility my Friend.
On Flow'ry Banks, in Bow'rs the Lover Lies,
He wants no Prop, who will not strive to rise.
'Tis not thro' Pride, I am thus careless grown,
And slight applause, to make it more my own.
I don't disclaim the Favours of the great,
But I can't stoop, and Cringe to meer estate.
If from great Men to me their Favours came,
I should respect the Person, not the Name.
Thro' me, the World should his kind bounty know,
And my rais'd Muse should tell who rais'd her so.
Nay, from a Prosp'rous Friend, I could receive,
Favours, I found him truly fond to give.
This, as my highest Friendship, I may boast,
For grateful sense in this still struggles most.
To be oblig'd, costs gen'rous Souls some pain,
When in Despair to make returns again.
Your Sylvius only to his fair one sues,
Her, only her, I for my Subject choose,
Amasia's both my Patroness, and Muse.
My Love for her no Rival Charm endures,
Were I not her's intire, I should be