The Answer.
99
But in my free and artless strain,
Nature I imitate in vain,
Though wild, I can't like nature please,
I can't boast charming nature's ease.
This rhapsody, great prince, excuse,
'Tis but the folly of my muse,
Reason had o'er me lost her sway,
When I composed this hurried lay,
Judgment was from my breast expelled,
For fair Emilia I beheld.
