 | Letters and poems |  |
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Elegy.
The Power of Verse.
To his Mistress.
While those bright Eyes subdue where-e'er you will,
And, as you please, can either save, or kill;
What Youth so bold the Conquest to design?
What Wealth so great to purchase Hearts like thine?
None but the Muse that Privilege can claim,
And what you give in Love, return in Fame.
Riches and Titles with your Life must end;
Nay, cannot even in Life your Fame defend:
Verse can give Fame, can fading Beauties save,
And, after Death, redeem'em from the Grave;
Embalm'd in Verse, through distant Times they come,
Preserv'd, like Bees, within an Amber Tomb.
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Restrain'd by nothing but their Will alone)
Here can cry up, and there as boldly blame,
And, as they please, give Infamy or Fame.
In vain the Tyrian Queen resigns her Life,
For the bright Glory of a spotless Wife,
If lying Bards may false Amours rehearse,
And blast her Name with arbitrary Verse.
While one who all the absence of her Lord,
Had her wide Courts with pressing Lovers stor'd;
Yet by a Poet grac'd, in deathless Rhimes,
Stands a chaste Pattern to succeeding Times.
With pity then the Muses Friends survey,
Nor think your Favours there are thrown away;
Wisely like Seed on fruitful Soil they're thrown,
To bring large Crops of Glory and Renown.
For as the Sun that in the Marshes breeds
Nothing but nauseous and unwholesome Weeds;
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To pleasant Flowers, and useful Fruits gives birth.
So Favours cast on Fools, get only Shame;
On Poets shed, produce eternal Fame:
Their gen'rous Breasts warm with a genial Fire,
And more than all the Muses can inspire.
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