 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
The Answer to the foregoing Verses.
If Poetry be blest with genial Pow'rs,
Can gild the Meads, and animate the Flow'rs;
Do thou vouchsafe to paint the flowing Spring,
And in thy Verse its various Beauties sing.
More sweet, more fair the lovely Plants shall rise,
And brighter Scenes shall treat our wond'ring Eyes.
Who reads thy Lines, is certain to admire
Thy easy softness and thy native Fire;
That artful Sweetness that harmonious Vein,
Possest by none, but great Apollo's Train.
Can gild the Meads, and animate the Flow'rs;
Do thou vouchsafe to paint the flowing Spring,
And in thy Verse its various Beauties sing.
More sweet, more fair the lovely Plants shall rise,
And brighter Scenes shall treat our wond'ring Eyes.
Who reads thy Lines, is certain to admire
Thy easy softness and thy native Fire;
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Possest by none, but great Apollo's Train.
When Daphne from thy radiant Father fled,
And in a Laurel hid her Virgin Head;
His vital Pow'r was on the Branches seen,
And the distinguish'd Tree is ever green.
So I, that would thy potent Brightness shun,
And veil myself from his poetick Son;
Feel the soft Force of thy pursuing Lays,
And draw fresh Verdure from the quick'ning Blaze.
And in a Laurel hid her Virgin Head;
His vital Pow'r was on the Branches seen,
And the distinguish'd Tree is ever green.
So I, that would thy potent Brightness shun,
And veil myself from his poetick Son;
Feel the soft Force of thy pursuing Lays,
And draw fresh Verdure from the quick'ning Blaze.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |