 | Miscellaneous poems |  |
107
AN ODE, IN Answer to the Foregoing.
By R. M. Esq;
Whilst in immortal Verse my Praise you sing,
Born on thy Fame, I strongly seem to rise;
Like the Wren tow'ring on the Eagle's Wing,
Exalted by thy Lays, I reach the Skies.
Born on thy Fame, I strongly seem to rise;
Like the Wren tow'ring on the Eagle's Wing,
Exalted by thy Lays, I reach the Skies.
108
I'm but the well-carv'd Image of your Mind,
And 'tis the Sculptor's Hand which we admire:
Thus in the Iliad, we a Pleasure find,
Not in Achilles' Rage, but Homer's Fire.
And 'tis the Sculptor's Hand which we admire:
Thus in the Iliad, we a Pleasure find,
Not in Achilles' Rage, but Homer's Fire.
Thy happy Fancy form'd the bright Design,
And crowding Thoughts with charming Numbers grac'd:
So the rude Chaos was by Pow'r divine,
In beauteous Harmony and Order plac'd.
And crowding Thoughts with charming Numbers grac'd:
So the rude Chaos was by Pow'r divine,
In beauteous Harmony and Order plac'd.
The strong perswasive Flatt'ry of thy Lays,
Makes me thus cherish thy too fond Regard:
Revolting Soldiers were by Cæsar's Praise
Reclaim'd, and strove to merit the Reward.
Makes me thus cherish thy too fond Regard:
Revolting Soldiers were by Cæsar's Praise
Reclaim'd, and strove to merit the Reward.
| Miscellaneous poems | |