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SONGS. ETC. |
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SONG.
(WRITTEN BY A LADY TO SIR HUMPHREY DAVY.)
Albeit, gentle reader, I
Delight not in thy trade ; Yet in thy pages there doth lie So much of quaint simplicity, So much of mind Of such good kind, That none need be afraid, Caught by thy cunning bait—this book, To be ensnared on thy hook.
Gladly from thee I am lured to bear,
With things that seemed most vile before, For thou dost on poor subjects rear, Matter the wisest sage might hear, And with a grace That doth efface More laboured works, thy simple lore Can teach us, that thy skilful lines More than the scally brood confines.
Our hearts and senses too, we see,
Rise quickly at thy master hand, And ready to be caught by thee, And lured to venture willingly ; Content and peace ; With health and ease, Walk by thy side, at thy command, We bid'adieu'to worldly care,
And joy in gifts that all may share. |
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