Rev. John Dyer

Martha Fowke Sansom ("Clio"), "To Mr. John Dyer, of Carmarthenshire" Richard Savage, Miscellaneous Poems and Translations (1726) 209-10.

I've done thy Merit and my Friendship Wrong,
In holding back my Gratitude so long;
The Soul is, sure, to equal Transport rais'd,
That justly praises, or is justly prais'd:
The Gen'rous, only, can this Pleasure know,
Who taste the Godlike Vertue — to bestow!
I ev'n grow rich, methinks, while I commend,
And feel the very Praises which send.
Nor Jealousy, nor female Envy find,
Tho' All the Muses are to Dyer kind.

Sing on, nor let your modest Fears retard,
Whose Verse and Pencil join, to force Reward:
Your Claim demands the Bays, in double Wreath,
Your Poems lighten, and your Pictures breathe.

I wish to praise you, but your Beauties wrong,
No Theme looks green, in Clio's artless Song:
But Yours will an eternal Verdure wear,
For Dyer's fruitful Soul will flourish there.
My humbler Lot was in low Distance laid;
I was, oh, hated Thought! a Woman made;
For houshold Cares, and empty Trifles meant,
The Name does Immortality prevent.
Yet, let me stretch, beyond my Sex, my Mind,
And, rising, leave the flutt'ring Train behind;
Nor Art, nor Learning, wish'd Assistance lends,
But Nature, Love, and Musick, are my Friends.