EPISTLES.
47
Both now are priz'd by few, unknown to most,
Because the thoughts are in the language lost.
Ev'n Spenser's pearls in muddy waters lie;
Yet soon their beams attract the diver's eye: 210
Rich was their imag'ry, till Time defac'd
The curious works. But Waller came at last.
Waller the Muse with heav'nly verse supplies,
Smooth as the fair, and sparkling as their eyes; 214
"All but the nymph that should redress his wrong
"Attend his passion, and approve his song."
But when this Orpheus sunk, and hoary age
Suppress'd the lover's and the poet's rage,
To Granville his melodious lute she gave,
Granville! whose faithful verse is Beauty's slave: 220
"Accept this gift, my fav'rite Youth!" she cry'd,
"To sound a brighter theme, and sing of Hyde;
"Hyde's and thy lovely Myra's praise proclaim,
"And match Carlisle's and Sacharissa's fame."
O! would he now forsake the myrtle grove, 225
And sing of arms as late he sung of love!
His colours and his hand alone should paint
In Britain's queen the warrior and the saint;
In whom conspire, to form her truly great,
Wisdom with pow'r, and piety with state. 230
Whilst from her throne the streams of justice flow,
Strong and serene, to bless the land below,
O'er distant realms her dreaded thunders roll,
And the wild rage of tyranny control.
Because the thoughts are in the language lost.
Ev'n Spenser's pearls in muddy waters lie;
Yet soon their beams attract the diver's eye: 210
Rich was their imag'ry, till Time defac'd
The curious works. But Waller came at last.
Waller the Muse with heav'nly verse supplies,
Smooth as the fair, and sparkling as their eyes; 214
"All but the nymph that should redress his wrong
"Attend his passion, and approve his song."
But when this Orpheus sunk, and hoary age
Suppress'd the lover's and the poet's rage,
To Granville his melodious lute she gave,
Granville! whose faithful verse is Beauty's slave: 220
"Accept this gift, my fav'rite Youth!" she cry'd,
"To sound a brighter theme, and sing of Hyde;
"Hyde's and thy lovely Myra's praise proclaim,
"And match Carlisle's and Sacharissa's fame."
O! would he now forsake the myrtle grove, 225
And sing of arms as late he sung of love!
His colours and his hand alone should paint
In Britain's queen the warrior and the saint;
In whom conspire, to form her truly great,
Wisdom with pow'r, and piety with state. 230
Whilst from her throne the streams of justice flow,
Strong and serene, to bless the land below,
O'er distant realms her dreaded thunders roll,
And the wild rage of tyranny control.
