Poems upon Several Occasions/44

by George Granville

Sent the Author into the Country. Written by a Lady.

WHY Granville, is thy Life confin'd$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
To Shades? Thou, whom the Gods design'd
In Publick, to do Credit to Mankind!
Why sleeps the noble Ardor of thy Blood,
Which from thy Ancestors so many Ages past,
From Rollo down to Bevil flow'd,
And then appear'd again at last
In thee, when thy victorious Lance^[1]
Bore the disputed Prize from all the Youth of France.
In the first Tryals that are made for Fame,
Those to whom Fate Success denies,
If taking Counsel from their Shame,
They modestly retreat, are wise:
But why shou'd you? who still succeed
In all you do, whether with graceful Art you lead
The fiery Barb, or with as graceful Motion tread
In shining Balls, where all agree
To give the highest Praise and the first Place to thee.
So lov'd and prais'd, whom all admire,
Why, why shou'd you from Courts and Camps retire?
If Myra is unkind, if it can be
That any Nymph can be unkind to thee,

If pensive made by Love you thus retire,
Awake your Muse, and string your Lyre;
Your tender Song and your melodious Strain
Can never be addrest in vain,
She needs must love, and we shall have you back again.

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1. At a Carousel at Paris, in the Year 1686.