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TO
Sr Will. D'avenant,
Upon his two first Books of
GONDIBERT,
Finish'd before his Voyage to
AMERICA.
THus the wise Nightingale that leaves her home,
Her native Wood, when Storms and Winter come,
Pursuing constantly the chearfull Spring
To forreign Groves does her old Musick bring:
The drooping Hebrews banish'd Harps unstrung
At Babylon, upon the Willows hung;
Yours sounds aloud, and tells us you excell
No less in Courage, than in Singing well;
Whilst unconcern'd you let your Countrey know,
They have impov'rished themselves, not you;
Who with the Muses help can mock those Fates
Which threaten Kingdoms, and disorder States.
So Ovid, when from Cæsar's rage he fled,
The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led,
Where he so sung, that We through Pitie's Glass,
See Nero milder than Augustus was.
Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be
Th'indulgent censure of Posteritie.
To banish those who with such art can sing,
Is a rude crime which its own Curse does bring:
Ages to come shall ne'r know how they fought,
Nor how to Love their present Youth be taught.
Her native Wood, when Storms and Winter come,
Pursuing constantly the chearfull Spring
To forreign Groves does her old Musick bring:
The drooping Hebrews banish'd Harps unstrung
At Babylon, upon the Willows hung;
Yours sounds aloud, and tells us you excell
No less in Courage, than in Singing well;
Whilst unconcern'd you let your Countrey know,
They have impov'rished themselves, not you;
Who with the Muses help can mock those Fates
Which threaten Kingdoms, and disorder States.
So Ovid, when from Cæsar's rage he fled,
The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led,
Where he so sung, that We through Pitie's Glass,
See Nero milder than Augustus was.
Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be
Th'indulgent censure of Posteritie.
To banish those who with such art can sing,
Is a rude crime which its own Curse does bring:
Ages to come shall ne'r know how they fought,
Nor how to Love their present Youth be taught.
This
