To That Most Splendid and Learned Gentleman, Sir Richard Bulstrode, on Account of the Sacred Poems Recently Written by Him
See, even our age has its miracles—miracles which future generations will scarcely believe.
The ready Muses we worshipped with votive incense; it is not just the spirit of money that you celebrate.
Here is one for whom time will have doubled nine five-year periods before a fifth crop grow in the sun-baked fields.
He composes verses worthy of Virgil or Apollo; and the Muses' nectar flows from the old man's lips.
How dear to Phoebus he was in the flower of his early youth! a man whose veins are still warm with such blood.
I am wrong: it was not Phoebus but devotion which poured forth these songs; Apollo is never accustomed to play such compositions.]
The ready Muses we worshipped with votive incense; it is not just the spirit of money that you celebrate.
Here is one for whom time will have doubled nine five-year periods before a fifth crop grow in the sun-baked fields.
He composes verses worthy of Virgil or Apollo; and the Muses' nectar flows from the old man's lips.
How dear to Phoebus he was in the flower of his early youth! a man whose veins are still warm with such blood.
I am wrong: it was not Phoebus but devotion which poured forth these songs; Apollo is never accustomed to play such compositions.]
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