SIR, As Age by Age, thro' fell Enchantment bound, The Heroe of some antient Myth is found, Wild Rocks about him, at the fierce Sea's Brim, And all his World an Old-Wives' Tale but him, His Garments, cast upon th' inclement Shoar, Such as long since our Grandsires' Grandsires wore, While all his Gestures and his Speech proclaim Him great Revealer of forgotten Fame, -- Such, Oh! Musician, dost thou seem to be To us who con th' Augustan Age by thee, Who hearken to thy Verse, to learn thro' it How DRYDEN to illustrious ORMOND writ, Or in thy fil'd and polisht Numbers hope To catch the Secret of the Art of POPE; Ah! subtil Skill! Ah! Bard of dying Fires, Let us but lose thee, and a Race expires; So long as thou dost keep this Treasure thine Great ANNA's Galaxy has Leave to shine. Thou who do'st link us with that elder Day When either QUEENSBERRY made Court to GAY, Thro' all the Thunders of romantick Times, Thro' Reefs of monstrous Quips and Shoals of Rhimes, We've steer'd at last, and, like Ships long at Sea, Our Latest-Born sail home to Grace and thee; Home-ward they sail, and find the World they left Of all but thee, yet not of thee bereft; Still in thy pointed Wit their Souls explore Familiar Fields where CONGREVE rul'd before; Still in thy human Tenderness they feel The honest Voice and beating Heart of STEELE. Long be it so; may Sheaf be laid on Sheaf Ere thy live Garland puts forth its @3Last Leaf;@1 As in old Prints, long may we see, in Air, Thy @3Guardian Angel@1 hover o'er thy Hair; Still may the @3Table,@1 where our Fathers sat To eat of Manna, hold its @3Autocrat;@1 Since surely none of all the Blest can be @3Home-sick in Heav'n,@1 as we on Earth, for thee. And Oh! whil'st o'er th' embattl'd Crags afar Thy practis'd Eyes gaze down the Gorge of War, Where thro' the blinding Dust and Heat we fight Against the Brazen-Helm'd Amalekite, At Height of Noon, Oh! lift up both those Hands To urge new Virtue thro' our fainting Bands, And when we feel our Sinews nerv'd to strike Envy and Errour, Shame and Sloth, a-like, We'll say 'tis well that, while we battle thus, Our MOSES stands on high 'twixt Heav'n and us. SIR, @3Your Most Humble, Most Obedient Servant,@1 EDMUND GOSSE. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LAMENT by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY AUTUMN AND SPRING by JULIA COOLEY ALTROCCHI THE VIELD PATH by WILLIAM BARNES STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD by BERNARD BARTON AUTUMN by WILLIAM ASPENWALL BRADLEY THE DIVINE MISSION by ALFRED GIBBS CAMPBELL |