Rev. John Upton

Thomas Warton, "Sent to Mr. Upton, on his Edition of the Faerie Queene" Warton, Poems (1777) 40-41.

As oft, reclin'd on Cherwell's shelving shore,
I trac'd romantic Spenser's moral page;
And sooth'd my sorrows with the dulcet lore
Which Fancy fabled in her elfin age:

Much would I grieve, that envious Time so soon
O'er the lov'd strain had cast his dim disguise;
As lowering clouds, in April's brightest noon,
Mar the pure splendors of the purple skies.

Sage Upton came, from every wonderous tale
To clear the mists that hung o'er fairy ground:
His wisard hand unlocks each magic vale,
And opes each flowery forest's guarded bound.

Thus, never knight with mortal arms essay'd
The castle of proud Busyrane to quell,
Till Britomart her beamy shield display'd,
And broke with golden spear the mighty spell:

The dauntless maid with hardy step explor'd
Each room, array'd in glistering imagery;
And through th' inchanted chamber, richly stor'd,
Saw Cupid's stately maske come sweeping by.

At this, where'er, in distant region sheen,
She roves, embower'd with many a spangled bough,
Mild Una, lifting her majestic mien,
Braids with a brighter wreath her radiant brow.

At this, in hopeless sorrow drooping long,
Her painted wings Imagination plumes;
Pleas'd that her laureate votary's rescued song
Its native charm and genuine grace resumes.