 | Love Crownes the End |  |
To his loving friend the Author, on his Fancies Theater.
'Tis worth enough to have so many friends,Who doe applaud with judgement thy faire ends;
Which raise thy Towring Fancies to such height,
That ev'ry line affords us a conceit
Farre different from the Whimzies of the time,
Where 'tis their chiefest praise to trot in Rime,
And thunder out their meaning in a Phrase,
Wo'd strike a Martiall spirit in a maze:
But let the world judge if what thou hast done,
Deserve not good mens approbation?
For my part, I shall deeme thee worthy praise,
When such a troope as these extoll thy Bayes.
When Fancie in thy Theater doth play,
And wins more credit than a second day;
When thy pure Helicon so high doth flow,
It out-braves Iordan or the swelling Poe.
Let not thy Fancie ebbe, but more and more
In large it's limits, and encroach the Shoare.
And let the Sea-borne Goddesse ever be
Propitious to thy straines of Poesie.
And may'st thou in thy Verse so happy prove,
That Cupid may affect thy beauteous Love
Dearer than Psyche, till thou make her be
Fairer than thine, lest he shou'd Rivall thee.
Thy Friend C. G.
| Love Crownes the End | |