Nicholas Rowe

Anonymous, "To Mr. Rowe, on his excellent Works" Poems on Several Occasions: together with some Odes (1703) 51-52.

Forgive me, Sir, if ill my Muse obeys
The Dictates of my Soul, when I would praise
A Man so worthy; nor judge of my Desire
By the dim Spark of my Poetic Fire,
Which much too feebly burns, alas! but can't enspire.
Where Merit's great, all Praises must be due
To him that can the Godlike Muse pursue,
And ramble o'er the Fields of Light like you.
With steddy Eyes preserve Heav'n's glorious Sight,
Nor languid fall to Earth in your Poetic Flight.

Your Diction's good, most elegant your Thought,
All your Designs still naturally wrought;
And this peculiar in your Works we find,
They move with deepest Sense the Passions of the Mind.

Happy the Maid, whose pow'rful Charms can prove
Of Strength sufficient to engage your Love.
Her Name, like Sacharissa's, shall endure
To after-Ages, and her Fame secure
Shall live; whilst most officious Love
Shall strive your Joys to heighten and improve.
May the dear She, in whose clos'd Arms you'd lye,
Have such a Sense of your Desert as I.