Rev. Joseph Trapp

William Brownsword, in Laugh upon Laugh, or Laughter ridicul'd, a Poem (1740) 18-20.

TRAPP too, should'st thou conjoin thy Praise,
And smile upon my rural Lays,
Sustain'd by thy approving Hand,
Flie they would swiftly through the Land.
O say — when shall we taste again
The Fruits of thy poetic Brain?
Fame says — A glorious Enterprize
Detains thee from our longing Eyes—
MILTON thou mean'st to Virgilize.
Not one of all APOLLO'S Sons
E'er better fitted for the nonce.
VIRGIL by thee now made our own
As native, or free Denison,
Heroic and unfetter'd shines
In thine, like his, immortal Lines.
But the Great MILTON to translate,
Keep up his Majesty and State,
And make him a Cosmopolite,
Yet lose no Grace, no Spirit, by't;
Makes my Muse giddy-headed quite.
But if — perhaps it may'nt be so—
O don't thy sacred Strains forego.
Thy Eagle-muse her Bill should cast—
Let not the Last Things be thy Last.
Remember what kind Hints you gave
Or what the World might further have.
O could I make out Line for Line
My Strains Antiphonal to thine;
By turns we'd charm down Vice and Error,
Or dart 'em through with our bright Mirror:
At least (that Boast too great) might chance
Help dash 'em out of Countenance.