Classic Poem

When gen'rous Thyrsis condescends to praise
His Pupil's mean, inartificial Lays,
What Strength of Genius must his Numbers shew,
To give, at once, both Fame and Merit too?
Others, may plausibly past Acts relate;
But he, where Worth is wanting, can create:
Such Energetick Virtue can bestow,
Such Inspiration from his Pen does flow.

With Pleasure, my great Censor's Voice I heard,
I hop'd his Candor, yet his Judgment fear'd:
But when I read the finish'd Poem o'er,
Shame warm'd my Cheeks, which Fear had chill'd before.
And blushing, I beheld such Graces shown
As I can ne'er without Confusion own.
Yet, grateful Æmulation bids me take
These undeserv'd Encomiums which you make,
Not as a Tribute, to my Verses due;
But as a kind Incentive, to pursue
The shining Prospect, you have set in View.

Believe me, Sir, your Muse a sacred Fire
Does, with such Force, into my Breast inspire,
As warms my Heart; ambitious now of Fame,
And prompts me, to secure a deathless Name.
Thus animated by your gen'rous Praise!
And thus, instructed, by your artful Lays!
What mayn't I hope, from my aspiring Muse;
While you her Flight direct, and she your Track pursues?