The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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On Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's bringing with her out of Turkey, the Art of Inoculating the Small-Pox.
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
On Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's bringing with her out of Turkey, the Art of Inoculating the Small-Pox.
When
Greece, reviving, into short delight,
Felt pride, and comfort, at our muse's sight,
The rival'd nine no sooner saw her face,
But e'en their envy gave their wonder place!
Charm'd, into love, of what eclips'd their fame,
They wak'd Apollo, with her powerful name.
Felt pride, and comfort, at our muse's sight,
The rival'd nine no sooner saw her face,
But e'en their envy gave their wonder place!
Charm'd, into love, of what eclips'd their fame,
They wak'd Apollo, with her powerful name.
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See!—God of Grecian wit! Urania cries,
How sweet a Muse the Western World supplies!
Say, should she ask some favour from your throne,
What could you bid her take, that's not her own?
Sparkling in charms, the heavenly stranger view,
So grac'd!—she scarce can owe a beam to you!
Beauty, with love, her power to your's prefers:
And wit, and learning, are, already, hers!
How sweet a Muse the Western World supplies!
Say, should she ask some favour from your throne,
What could you bid her take, that's not her own?
Sparkling in charms, the heavenly stranger view,
So grac'd!—she scarce can owe a beam to you!
Beauty, with love, her power to your's prefers:
And wit, and learning, are, already, hers!
Rous'd, at her name—receding, from her eyes,
The gazing God rose slow, in soft surprize!
Fair miracle, he said,—and paus'd, a while:
Then, thus—Sweet glory of your envy'd Isle!
Charm'd, and oblig'd, lest we ungrateful seem,
Bear, hence, at least, one mark of our esteem.
One of my three great claims, your wish may fit;
Whose voice is musick, and whose thoughts are wit!
Physic, alone, remains, to grant you, here—
A skill! your godlike pity will endear.
Form'd, to give wounds, which must no ease procure,
Atone your influ'nce, by new arts, to cure.
Beauty's chief foe, a fear'd and fierce disease!
Bows at my beck; and knows its God's decrees.
Breath'd, in this kiss, take power, to tame its rage,
And, from its rancour, free the rescued age:
High o'er each sex, in double empire, sit:
Protecting beauty, and inspiring wit.
The gazing God rose slow, in soft surprize!
Fair miracle, he said,—and paus'd, a while:
Then, thus—Sweet glory of your envy'd Isle!
Charm'd, and oblig'd, lest we ungrateful seem,
Bear, hence, at least, one mark of our esteem.
One of my three great claims, your wish may fit;
Whose voice is musick, and whose thoughts are wit!
Physic, alone, remains, to grant you, here—
A skill! your godlike pity will endear.
Form'd, to give wounds, which must no ease procure,
Atone your influ'nce, by new arts, to cure.
55
Bows at my beck; and knows its God's decrees.
Breath'd, in this kiss, take power, to tame its rage,
And, from its rancour, free the rescued age:
High o'er each sex, in double empire, sit:
Protecting beauty, and inspiring wit.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |