At length he bellow'd in a Rage, This Hair will take me up an Age. This take an Age, the Husband fwore, то TO A GENTLEMAN I WHO Corrected fome Verses for me. F e'er my humble Mufe melodious fings, 'Tis when you animate and tune her Strings; 2 If e'er fhe mounts, 'tis when youPlume her Wings. Mean was the Piece, unelegantly wrought, The Colours faint, irregular the Draught! CT But But your commanding Touch, your nicer Art, Confus'd it lay a rough unpolish'd Mafs, You gave the Royal Stamp, and made it pass; Hence ev'n Deformity a Beauty grew, [you. She pleas'd, fhe charm'd,but pleas'd and charm'd by Tho' like Prometheus I the Image frame, You give the Life, and bring the heav'nly Flame Thus when the Nile diffus'd his watry Train In streams of Plenty o'er the fruitful Plain Unfhapen Forms, the Refuse of the Flood, ffu'd imperfect from the Teeming Mud. But But the great Source and Parent of the Day, Fashion'd the Creature, and inform'd the Clay. Weak of her felf, my Muse forbears her flight, Views her own lowness, and Parnaffus height; But when you aid her Song, and deign to Nod, [God. She spreads a bolder Wing, and feels the present Blind to the future, and Events to come. She heav'd, the fwell'd, fhe felt the rushing God. |