 | Lycidus |  |
To Mrs. B. on her Poems.
Hail, Beauteous Prophetess, in whom alone,
Of all your sex Heav'ns master-piece is shewn.
For wondrous skill it argues, wondrous care,
Where two such Stars in firm conjunction are.
A Brain so Glorious, and a Face so fair.
Two Goddesses in your composure joyn'd.
Nothing but Goddess cou'd, you're so refin'd,
Bright Venus Body gave, Minerva Mind.
Of all your sex Heav'ns master-piece is shewn.
For wondrous skill it argues, wondrous care,
Where two such Stars in firm conjunction are.
A Brain so Glorious, and a Face so fair.
Two Goddesses in your composure joyn'd.
Nothing but Goddess cou'd, you're so refin'd,
Bright Venus Body gave, Minerva Mind.
How soft and fine your manly numbers flow,
Soft as your Lips, and smooth as is your brow.
Gentle as Air, bright as the Noon days Sky,
Clear as your skin, and charming as your Eye.
No craggy Precipice the Prospect spoyles,
The Eye no tedious barren plain beguiles
But, like Thessalian Feilds your Volumes are,
Rapture and charms o're all the soyl appear,
Astrea and her verse are Tempe every where.
Soft as your Lips, and smooth as is your brow.
Gentle as Air, bright as the Noon days Sky,
Clear as your skin, and charming as your Eye.
No craggy Precipice the Prospect spoyles,
The Eye no tedious barren plain beguiles
Rapture and charms o're all the soyl appear,
Astrea and her verse are Tempe every where.
Ah, more than Woman! more than man she is,
As Phæbus bright; she's too, as Phæbus wise.
The Muses to our sex perverse and coy
Astrea do's familiarly enjoy.
She do's their veiled Glorys understand,
And what we court with pain, with ease command.
Their charming secrets they expanded lay,
Reserv'd to us, to her they all display.
Upon her Pen await those learned Nine.
She ne're but like the Phosph'rus draws a line,
As soon as toucht her subjects clearly shine.
As Phæbus bright; she's too, as Phæbus wise.
The Muses to our sex perverse and coy
Astrea do's familiarly enjoy.
She do's their veiled Glorys understand,
And what we court with pain, with ease command.
Their charming secrets they expanded lay,
Reserv'd to us, to her they all display.
Upon her Pen await those learned Nine.
She ne're but like the Phosph'rus draws a line,
As soon as toucht her subjects clearly shine.
The femal Laurels were obscur'd till now,
And they deserv'd the Shades in which they grew:
But Daphne at your call return's her flight,
Looks boldly up and dares the God of light.
If we Orinda to your works compare,
They uncouth, like her countrys soyle, appear,
Mean as its Pesants, as its Mountains bare,
Sappho tasts strongly of the sex, is weak and poor
At second hand she russet Laurels wore,
Yours are your own, a rich and verdant store.
If Loves the Theme, you outdo Ovids Art,
Loves God himself can't subtiller skill impart.
Softer than's plumes, more piercing than his Dart.
And they deserv'd the Shades in which they grew:
But Daphne at your call return's her flight,
Looks boldly up and dares the God of light.
They uncouth, like her countrys soyle, appear,
Mean as its Pesants, as its Mountains bare,
Sappho tasts strongly of the sex, is weak and poor
At second hand she russet Laurels wore,
Yours are your own, a rich and verdant store.
If Loves the Theme, you outdo Ovids Art,
Loves God himself can't subtiller skill impart.
Softer than's plumes, more piercing than his Dart.
If Pastoral be her Song, she glads the Swains
With Livelier notes, with spritelier smiles the plains.
More gayly than the Springs she decks the Bowrs
And breaths a second May to Fields and Flowrs.
If e're the golden Age again return
And flash in shining Beames from's Iron Urn,
That Age not as it was before shall be,
But as th'Idea is refin'd by thee.
That seems the common; thines the Elixir, Gold,
So pure is thine, and so allay'd the old.
With Livelier notes, with spritelier smiles the plains.
More gayly than the Springs she decks the Bowrs
And breaths a second May to Fields and Flowrs.
If e're the golden Age again return
And flash in shining Beames from's Iron Urn,
That Age not as it was before shall be,
But as th'Idea is refin'd by thee.
That seems the common; thines the Elixir, Gold,
So pure is thine, and so allay'd the old.
Happy, ye Bards, by fair Astrea prais'd,
If you'r alive, to brighter life you're rais'd;
For cherisht by her Beames you'l loft yer grow,
You must your former learned selves outdo,
Thô you'd the parts of Thirsis and of Strephon too.
If you'r alive, to brighter life you're rais'd;
For cherisht by her Beames you'l loft yer grow,
You must your former learned selves outdo,
Thô you'd the parts of Thirsis and of Strephon too.
Hail, mighty Prophetess! by whom we see
Omnipotence almost in Poetry:
Your flame can give to Graves Promethean fire,
And Greenhills clay with living paint inspire;
For like some Mystick wand with awful Eyes
You wave your Pen, and lo the dead Arise.
Omnipotence almost in Poetry:
Your flame can give to Graves Promethean fire,
And Greenhills clay with living paint inspire;
For like some Mystick wand with awful Eyes
You wave your Pen, and lo the dead Arise.
Kendrick.
| Lycidus | |