Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/119

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VII.

Yet because Sacred Virgil's Noble Muse,

O'erlay'd by Fools, was ready to expire:
To risque your Fame again, you boldly chuse,
Or to redeem, or perish with your Sire.

VIII.

Ev'n first and last, we owe him half to you,

For that his Æneids miss'd their threatned Fate,
Was———that his Friends by some Prediction knew,
Hereafter who correcting should translate.

IX.

But hold my Muse, thy needless Flight restrain,

Unless like him thou cou'dst a Verse indite:
To think his Fancy to describe, is vain,
Since nothing can discover Light, but Light.

X.

'Tis want of Genius that does more deny;

'Tis Fear my Praise shou'd make your Glory less.
And therefore, like the modest Painter, I
Must draw the Vail, where I cannot express.

Henry Grahme.

 

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To Mr. DRYDEN.

NO undisputed Monarch Govern'd yet
With Universal Sway the Realms of Wit:
Nature cou'd never such Expence afford,
Each several Province own'd a several Lord.
A Poet then had his Poetick Wife,
One Muse embrac'd, and Married for his Life.
By the stale thing his appetite was cloy'd,
His Fancy lessned, and his Fire destroy'd.
But Nature grown extravagantly kind,
With all her Treasures did adorn your Mind.