 | Poems upon several Occasions |  |
TO A Young LADY Singing, AND Playing upon Her Spinet.
[I.]
Kind Philomel, that glad'st the chearful Spring,From flow'ry Tempe's vocal Shades repair,
And in a various Consort with Thee bring
The sweetest wing'd Musicians of the Air;
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To Mirabella Queen of artful Song,
Whose melting Strains can steal the Soul away,
Call Age from Death, with Raptures Kill the Young.
First CHORUS.
Let Mirabel extend your swelling Throats,Learn from her Airs to form unusual Notes;
And when You all your utmost Skill have shown,
She will o'repay your Songs with Nobler of her own.
II.
Less pow'rful Strains the Thracian BardEmploy'd beneath the dancing Shade,
When on his warbling Lute he play'd,
Ambitious to instruct th' Inferior Herd.
When You, my Charmer, touch the Lyre,
You teach not Brutes, but Mankind to admire;
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Mankind must prove more senseless Brutes than they.
III.
When to her Instruments enchanting SoundThe matchless Mirabella Sings;
When nimbly o're the pratling Strings
Her flying Fingers bound;
Should now the God of Musick hear,
The God of Musick would desert his Sphere;
Nor need he, leaving Heav'n, repine,
Might he but tune his Voice by thine;
No more would He for Daphne burn,
No more the flying Fair pursue,
The Nymph no more into a Lawrel turn,
But to a Mortal change Himself for You.
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Last CHORUS.
Sing, Sing ye Muses, celebrate the Fair,Th' Harmonious are still the Muses Care.
O! wou'd the God that dwells upon her Tongue,
With equal Sounds inspire my Song,
Ah! then what Joys! what ravishing Delights,
To hear her sing, what thus the Poet writes!
| Poems upon several Occasions | |