Samuel Cobb

W. Dove, "To his Friend, on the following Poem" Cobb, Poetae Britannici (1700) sig. A.

Others their praise may gratefully bestow,
And pay that Debt, which they to merit owe:
But I'm indebted on a double Score,
Much for your Verse, but for your Friendship more:
And who an equal recompence can tell,
For one who sings, and one who loves so well?

To praise your Verse, is what the most will do,
I would do something more, in praising you;
Not, how the Poet's for his Verse admir'd,
But how good Nature makes the Man desir'd.

And yet the Task's so great to praise a Friend,
That I much rather would your Verse commend.
I would indeed; but something in your Lines
So strange, so dazling, so peculiar Shines,
That loud-tongu'd praise must here be at a stand,
And Silent wonder only must commend.

Thus mighty Joy is by excess conceal'd,
Yet Shakes the breast, and fain would be reveal'd.
Intranc'd in extasy, unmov'd it lies,
The weights too heavy, and it cannot rise.