« ПредишнаНапред »
O you, my Lord, my Mufe her tribute pays
you, on whose indulgence the depends, Her few collected lays the now commends.
By no one measure bound, her numbers range,
Yet, fhe admires the wing that fafely foars,
At distance follows, and its track adores.
She knows what room, what force, the fwan requires,
And not more bound to aid us, than adorn!
And gain'd alone a fame, which, there, seven states divide.
A true poetic state we had deplor'd,
But ftill, my Lord, though your exalted name
The good receiv'd, the giver is forgot.
But honours which from verfe their fource derive,
"Infandum, regina, jubes renovare dolorem." VIRG.
ALEXIS, MENAL CAS.
EHOLD, Alexis, fee this gloomy shade,
Which feems alone for forrow's fhelter made;
No violet here, nor daify, e'er was seen;