Philomela Or, Poems By Mrs. Elizabeth Singer, [Now Rowe,] ... The Second Edition |
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TO A FRIEND WHO Persuades me to leave the Muses. |
 | Philomela |  |
128
TO A FRIEND WHO Persuades me to leave the Muses.
Forego the charming Muses! No, in spite
Of your ill-natur'd Prophecy I'll write;
And for the future paint my Thoughts at large,
I waste no Paper at the Hundred's Charge:
I rob no Neighb'ring Geese of Quills, nor slink,
For a Collection, to the Church for Ink:
Beside, my Muse is the most gentle Thing
That ever yet made an Attempt to sing:
I call no Lady Punk, nor Gallants Fops,
Nor set the Married World an edge for Ropes;
Yet I'm so nat'rally inclin'd to Rhyming,
That undesign'd, my Thoughts burst out a Chiming;
My active Genius will by no means sleep,
Pray let it then its proper Channel keep.
I've told you, and you may believe me too,
That I must this, or greater Mischief do;
And let the World think me inspir'd, or mad,
I'll surely write whilst Paper's to be had;
Since Heav'n to me has a Retreat assign'd,
That would inspire a less harmonious Mind.
All that a Poet loves I have in View,
Delightsome Hills, refreshing Shades, and pleasant Vallies too;
Fair spreading Meadows cloath'd with lasting Green,
And Sunny Banks with gliding Streams between,
Gay as Elysium, in a Lover's Dream,
Or Flora's Mansion, seated by a Stream,
Where free from sullen Cares I live at Ease,
Indulge my Muse, and Wishes, as I please,
Exempt from all that looks like Want or Strife,
I smoothly pass along the Plains of Life:
Thus Fate conspires; which Way then can I move?
Besides, my Friend, I'm veh'mently in Love,
This Truth there's not a Willow Sprig but knows,
In whose sad Shade I breathe my watchful Woes.
But why for these slight Reasons do I pause,
When I've a cogent one at hand, Because!
Of your ill-natur'd Prophecy I'll write;
And for the future paint my Thoughts at large,
I waste no Paper at the Hundred's Charge:
I rob no Neighb'ring Geese of Quills, nor slink,
For a Collection, to the Church for Ink:
Beside, my Muse is the most gentle Thing
That ever yet made an Attempt to sing:
I call no Lady Punk, nor Gallants Fops,
Nor set the Married World an edge for Ropes;
129
That undesign'd, my Thoughts burst out a Chiming;
My active Genius will by no means sleep,
Pray let it then its proper Channel keep.
I've told you, and you may believe me too,
That I must this, or greater Mischief do;
And let the World think me inspir'd, or mad,
I'll surely write whilst Paper's to be had;
Since Heav'n to me has a Retreat assign'd,
That would inspire a less harmonious Mind.
All that a Poet loves I have in View,
Delightsome Hills, refreshing Shades, and pleasant Vallies too;
Fair spreading Meadows cloath'd with lasting Green,
And Sunny Banks with gliding Streams between,
Gay as Elysium, in a Lover's Dream,
Or Flora's Mansion, seated by a Stream,
Where free from sullen Cares I live at Ease,
Indulge my Muse, and Wishes, as I please,
130
I smoothly pass along the Plains of Life:
Thus Fate conspires; which Way then can I move?
Besides, my Friend, I'm veh'mently in Love,
This Truth there's not a Willow Sprig but knows,
In whose sad Shade I breathe my watchful Woes.
But why for these slight Reasons do I pause,
When I've a cogent one at hand, Because!
And that my Muse may take no counter Spell,
I fairly bid the Boarding-School farewel:
No young Impertinent shall here intrude,
And coax me from this blissful Solitude.
Spite of her Heart, my Dame shall damn no more
Great Sedley's Plays, tho' never look'd 'em o'er;
Affront my Novels, no, nor in a Rage,
Force Dryden's lofty Products from the Stage,
Whilst all the rest of the melodious Crew,
With the Whole System of Athenians too,
For Study's Sake, out of the Window flew.
But I to Church shall fill her Train no more,
And walk as if I sojourn'd by the Hour.
I fairly bid the Boarding-School farewel:
No young Impertinent shall here intrude,
And coax me from this blissful Solitude.
Spite of her Heart, my Dame shall damn no more
Great Sedley's Plays, tho' never look'd 'em o'er;
Affront my Novels, no, nor in a Rage,
Force Dryden's lofty Products from the Stage,
Whilst all the rest of the melodious Crew,
With the Whole System of Athenians too,
For Study's Sake, out of the Window flew.
131
And walk as if I sojourn'd by the Hour.
To Dancing-Master I have bid adieu,
Fall off, and on, be hang'd, and Coopee too
Thy self for me, my cap'ring Days are o'er,
Th' inspir'd Bacchanals I'll act no more.
Eight Notes must for another Treble look,
In Burlesque to make Faces by the Book.
My darling Pencil, and Japanning too,
And pretty Cupid in the Glass, Adieu!
And since the dearest Friends that are must part,
Old Governess farewel, with all my Heart.
Now welcome peaceful Shades and murm'ring Springs,
And welcome all th'inspiring tender Things,
That please my Genius, suit my Make and Years,
Unburden'd yet with all but Lovers-Cares.
Fall off, and on, be hang'd, and Coopee too
Thy self for me, my cap'ring Days are o'er,
Th' inspir'd Bacchanals I'll act no more.
Eight Notes must for another Treble look,
In Burlesque to make Faces by the Book.
My darling Pencil, and Japanning too,
And pretty Cupid in the Glass, Adieu!
And since the dearest Friends that are must part,
Old Governess farewel, with all my Heart.
Now welcome peaceful Shades and murm'ring Springs,
And welcome all th'inspiring tender Things,
That please my Genius, suit my Make and Years,
Unburden'd yet with all but Lovers-Cares.
| Philomela | |