Rev. Christopher Pitt

Forgive me, Sir, if I approve
The Judgment of your Friend,
Who chose this Token of his Love
From Virgil's Tomb to send.

You, who the Mantuan Poet dress
In purest English Lays,
Who all his Soul and Flame express,
May justly claim his Bays.

Those Bays which water'd by your Hand,
From Vida's Spring shall rise,
And, with fresh Verdure crown'd, withstand
The Light'ning of the Skies.

Let hence your Emulation fir'd
His matchless Strains pursue,
As, from Achilles' Tomb inspir'd,
The Youth a Rival grew.