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Could I trace back the time, a much earlier date,
Since my forefathers toil'd in yon field;
For the farm I now hold on your honour's estate,
Is the fame that my grandfather till'd.
He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name,
which unfully'd descended to me;
For my child I've preserv'd it, uncrimson'd with
shame,
And it still from a spot shall be free.
TO ANACREON IN HEAVEN.
TO Anacreon in heav'n, where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of harmony sent a petition,
That he their inspirer and patron would be,
When this answer arriv'd from the jolly old Grecian,
"Voice, fiddle and flute,
"No longer be mute,
"I'll lend you my name, and inspire you to boot,
"And besides I'll instruct: you with mirth to entwine
'The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."
'
The news through Olympus immediately flew,
When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs,
"If these mortals are suffered their scheme to pursue,
"The devil a goddess will stay above stairs,
"Hark! already they cry,
"In transports of joy,
"Away to the sons of Anacreon we'll fly ;
"And there with good fellows we'll learn to entwine
"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."
"The
