University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D.

Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes

expand sectionIV. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
TO DR. WATTS, On the Fifth Edition of his Horæ Lyricæ.
expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII. 
expand section 
expand section 

TO DR. WATTS, On the Fifth Edition of his Horæ Lyricæ.

Sovereign of sacred verse, accept the lays
‘Of a young bard that dares attempt thy praise,
‘A muse, the meanest of the vocal throng,
‘New to the bays, nor equal to the song,
‘Fir'd with the growing glories of thy fame
‘Joins all her powers to celebrate thy name.
‘No vulgar themes thy pious muse engage,
‘No scenes of lust pollute thy sacred page.
‘You in majestic numbers mount the skies,
‘And meet descending angels as you rise,
‘Whose just applauses charm the crowded groves,
‘And Addison thy tuneful song approves.
‘Soft harmony and manly vigour join
‘To form the beauties of each sprightly line,
‘For every grace of every muse is thine.
‘Milton, immortal bard, divinely bright,
‘Conducts his fav'rite to the realms of light;
‘Where Raphael's lyre charms the celestial throng,
‘Delighted cherubs list'ning to the song:
‘From bliss to bliss the happy beings rove,
‘And taste the sweets of music and of love.
‘But when the softer scenes of life you paint,
‘And join the beauteous virgin to the saint,
‘When you describe how few the happy pairs,
‘Whose hearts united soften all their cares,
‘We see to whom the sweetest joys belong,
‘And Mira's beauties consecrate your song.
‘Fain the unnumber'd graces I would tell,
‘And on the pleasing theme for ever dwell;
‘But the muse faints, unequal to the flight,
‘And hears thy strains with wonder and delight.
‘When tombs of princes shall in ruins lie,
‘And all, but heaven-born piety, shall die,
‘When the last trumpet wakes the silent dead,
‘And each lascivious poet hides his head,
‘With thee shall thy divine Urania rise,
‘Crown'd with fresh laurels, to thy native skies:
‘Great How and Gouge shall hail thee on thy way,
‘And welcome thee to the bright realms of day,
‘Adapt thy tuneful notes to heavenly strings,
‘And join the Lyric Ode while some fair seraph sings.’
Sic spirat, sic optat Tui amantissimus, BRITANNICUS.