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GRATITUDE.
Some grateful Acknowledgments to that most excellent Poet, Mr. A. C.
1667.
Henceforth, my Muse, more boldly claim the Bays,
Ennobled now by Cowley's generous Praise.
Apollo here has silver'd o're thy shades:
Thus Lords can Ladies make of Chamber-maids.
Thou art a royal Miss, and now must get
No lesser Honour than a Coronet.
Nay, richer Blessings Cowley's Praises share;
Now thou'lt be thought both vertuous and fair.
Such plenteous Contributions to the Poor,
Proclaim his Soul as large as is his store.
The Sun is no less glorious in his Blaze,
Although he gild the lower World with Rays.
His Beams thou must reflect, and grateful prove,
And nourish in thy Breast his kindling Love.
'Twill bring effects worthy his virtual Powers,
Making thee pregnant both in Fruits and Flowers.
For that which blossoms not with Cowley's Praise,
Is but a sapless branch of wither'd Bays,
Warm'd vainly by Apollo's quickning Rays.
Without his Light, vain are the quickest Eyes;
His influence, ev'n from Dust, makes Insects rise.
Such mighty Sums 'tis easi'r to repay
When they're not lent, but freely giv'n away.
Like heav'nly Blessings upon thee bestow'd,
To make thee thankful and thy Works more good.
Ennobled now by Cowley's generous Praise.
Apollo here has silver'd o're thy shades:
Thus Lords can Ladies make of Chamber-maids.
Thou art a royal Miss, and now must get
No lesser Honour than a Coronet.
Nay, richer Blessings Cowley's Praises share;
Now thou'lt be thought both vertuous and fair.
Such plenteous Contributions to the Poor,
Proclaim his Soul as large as is his store.
The Sun is no less glorious in his Blaze,
Although he gild the lower World with Rays.
His Beams thou must reflect, and grateful prove,
And nourish in thy Breast his kindling Love.
'Twill bring effects worthy his virtual Powers,
Making thee pregnant both in Fruits and Flowers.
121
Is but a sapless branch of wither'd Bays,
Warm'd vainly by Apollo's quickning Rays.
Without his Light, vain are the quickest Eyes;
His influence, ev'n from Dust, makes Insects rise.
Such mighty Sums 'tis easi'r to repay
When they're not lent, but freely giv'n away.
Like heav'nly Blessings upon thee bestow'd,
To make thee thankful and thy Works more good.
Hail God of Wit! England's Apollo, hail!
Thou art no Off-spring of an idle Tale,
Like Homer's Deity. But since that fame
All Ages gave him, is thy proper claim;
Accept the Veneration and the Name.
Fulfill'd in thee is what the Ancients feign,
And Pallas is the issue of thy Brain,
As th' Muses of thy Wit: when safely laid,
Of thy first-sheets their swathing Cloaths were made.
Others there are would thy fair Off-spring claim;
Theirs (by their want of heed) o're-laid or lame.
But when it comes to Tryal they resign;
Justice decrees the Living Child for thine.
Thou art no Off-spring of an idle Tale,
Like Homer's Deity. But since that fame
All Ages gave him, is thy proper claim;
Accept the Veneration and the Name.
Fulfill'd in thee is what the Ancients feign,
And Pallas is the issue of thy Brain,
As th' Muses of thy Wit: when safely laid,
Of thy first-sheets their swathing Cloaths were made.
Others there are would thy fair Off-spring claim;
Theirs (by their want of heed) o're-laid or lame.
But when it comes to Tryal they resign;
Justice decrees the Living Child for thine.
The Muse's Empire bears so great a Name,
Thou hast two Rivals in thy Lady-Fame;
Waller and Donne. You are the only three
Who justly can pretend that Monarchy.
Donne's Judgment, Fancy, Humour, and his Wit,
Strong, searching, happy, and before ne're hit,
Gives him a fair pretence to climb the Throne;
But Waller rather stops than plucks him down.
Rich he appears; his courtly Vesture grac'd
With golden Similes all over lac'd.
But Cowley (like the Infant of the Sun)
Out-glitters Waller, and ev'n dazzles Donne.
Both of 'em, to Augustus, leave the Field;
Like Lepidus and Anthony, they yield.
He triumphs! their triumv'racy of Rays
Unite in Cowley and compound his blaze.
Thou hast two Rivals in thy Lady-Fame;
Waller and Donne. You are the only three
Who justly can pretend that Monarchy.
Donne's Judgment, Fancy, Humour, and his Wit,
Strong, searching, happy, and before ne're hit,
Gives him a fair pretence to climb the Throne;
But Waller rather stops than plucks him down.
122
With golden Similes all over lac'd.
But Cowley (like the Infant of the Sun)
Out-glitters Waller, and ev'n dazzles Donne.
Both of 'em, to Augustus, leave the Field;
Like Lepidus and Anthony, they yield.
He triumphs! their triumv'racy of Rays
Unite in Cowley and compound his blaze.
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