58
EPISTLES.
But, rather than prophane his sacred herse
With languid praises and unhallow'd verse,
My sighs I to myself in silence keep,
And inwardly, with secret anguish, weep? 12
With languid praises and unhallow'd verse,
My sighs I to myself in silence keep,
And inwardly, with secret anguish, weep? 12
Let Halifax's Muse (he knew him well)
His virtues to succeeding ages tell.
Let him, who sung the warrior on the Boyne,
(Provoking Dorset in the task to join) 16
And shew'd the hero more than man before,
Let him th' illustrious mortal's fate deplore;
A mournful theme: while, on raw pinions, I
But flutter, and make weak attempts to fly: 20
Content, if, to divert my vacant time,
I can but like some love-sick fopling rhyme,
To some kind-hearted mistress make my court,
And, like a modish wit, in sonnet sport. 24
His virtues to succeeding ages tell.
Let him, who sung the warrior on the Boyne,
(Provoking Dorset in the task to join) 16
And shew'd the hero more than man before,
Let him th' illustrious mortal's fate deplore;
A mournful theme: while, on raw pinions, I
But flutter, and make weak attempts to fly: 20
Content, if, to divert my vacant time,
I can but like some love-sick fopling rhyme,
To some kind-hearted mistress make my court,
And, like a modish wit, in sonnet sport. 24
Let others, more ambitious, rack their brains
In polish'd sentiments, and labour'd strains:
To blooming Pbillis I a song compose,
And, for a rhyme, compare her to the rose; 28
Then, while my fancy works, I write down morn,
To paint the blush that does her cheek adorn,
In polish'd sentiments, and labour'd strains:
To blooming Pbillis I a song compose,
And, for a rhyme, compare her to the rose; 28
Then, while my fancy works, I write down morn,
To paint the blush that does her cheek adorn,
And,
