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SIR MARTYN.
II.
That powre of charme thy Naiads once poſſeſt,
Melodious Mulla! when, full oft whyleare,
Thy gliding murmurs ſoothd the gentle breſt
Of hapleſſe Spenser; long with woes oppreſt,
Long with the drowſie Patrons ſmyles decoyd,
Till in thy ſhades, no more with cares diſtreſt,
No more with painful anxious hopes accloyd,
The ſabbath of his life the milde good man enjoyd:
III.
The Muſes wooed him, when each evening grey
Luxurious Fancy, from her wardrobe dreſt
Brought forth her faerie knights in ſheen array
By forreſt edge or welling fount, where lay,
Farre from the crowd, the careleſſe Bard ſupine:
Oh happy man! how innocent and gay,
How mildly peacefull past these houres of thine!
Ah! could a ſigh avail, ſuch ſweete calme peace were mine!
