 | Miscellaneous poems |  |
104
TO A GENTLEMAN Who Corrected some Verses of the Author's writing.
By the Same.
Accept what Thanks a grateful Muse can pay,
Whose Flight you succour, and direct her Wing,
Who while you guide her Hand attempts to play,
And while you tune her Voice essays to sing.
Whose Flight you succour, and direct her Wing,
Who while you guide her Hand attempts to play,
And while you tune her Voice essays to sing.
105
To you alone she owes her Claim to Praise,
Rude and unfinish'd are the Draughts she draws;
You stamp Perfection on her lifeless Lays,
And your Impression justifies Applause.
Rude and unfinish'd are the Draughts she draws;
You stamp Perfection on her lifeless Lays,
And your Impression justifies Applause.
So in the Mine th'unfashion'd Metal grows
With weakly Gleam, a rough unpolish'd Mass,
Until the Royal Stamp its Value shews,
And by the Monarch's Image makes it pass.
With weakly Gleam, a rough unpolish'd Mass,
Until the Royal Stamp its Value shews,
And by the Monarch's Image makes it pass.
Cold and inanimate is my Essay;
You Wit and Judgment, Warmth and Life inspire.
I, like Prometheus, temper earthly Clay;
You, like Minerva, lend cœlestial Fire.
You Wit and Judgment, Warmth and Life inspire.
I, like Prometheus, temper earthly Clay;
You, like Minerva, lend cœlestial Fire.
My indigested Thoughts can never shine,
Till you add Lustre, and bright Order give;
My Verses in your Hands become divine,
And from your Touches they begin to live.
Till you add Lustre, and bright Order give;
My Verses in your Hands become divine,
And from your Touches they begin to live.
106
So on the Banks of Nile, when Floods retreat,
Unfinish'd Insects lie, a shapeless Brood,
Till by Degrees the Sun's enliv'ning Heat
Gives Life, and Form, and Motion to the Mud.
Unfinish'd Insects lie, a shapeless Brood,
Till by Degrees the Sun's enliv'ning Heat
Gives Life, and Form, and Motion to the Mud.
What your Good-Nature to my Lines conveys
Of Wit, or Elegance, I seem to write:
Thus the pale Moon, who shines with borrow'd Rays,
Reflects her beamy Brother's absent Light.
Of Wit, or Elegance, I seem to write:
Thus the pale Moon, who shines with borrow'd Rays,
Reflects her beamy Brother's absent Light.
Then let me make my thankful Fondness known,
And with your Merit swell the trembling String:
Thus prove the Praise of Gratitude my own,
And hail you with that Voice you teach to sing.
And with your Merit swell the trembling String:
Thus prove the Praise of Gratitude my own,
And hail you with that Voice you teach to sing.
As brazen Memnon, while Night's Vapours fly,
Dispell'd and vanquish'd by the op'ning Day,
Salutes the rising Glory of the Sky,
And owes his Musick to the friendly Ray.
Dispell'd and vanquish'd by the op'ning Day,
Salutes the rising Glory of the Sky,
And owes his Musick to the friendly Ray.
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