UPON THE FOLLOWING POEMS.
I write not here, as if thy last in store Of learned friends; 'tis known that thou hast more; Who, were they told of this, would find a way To raise a guard of poets without pay, And bring as many hands to thy edition, As th' City should unto their May'r's petition. But thou wouldst none of this, lest it should be Thy muster rather than our courtesy; Thou wouldst not beg as knights do, and appear Poet by voice and suffrage of the shire; That were enough to make my Muse advance Amongst the crutches; nay, it might enhance Our charity, and we should think it fit The State should build an hospital for wit. But here needs no relief: thy richer verse Creates all poets, that can but rehearse, And they, like tenants better'd by their land, Should pay thee rent for what they understand. Thou art not of that lamentable nation Who make a blessed alms of approbation, Whose fardel-notes are briefs in ev'rything, But, that they are not Licens'd by the king. Without such scrape-requests thou dost come forth Arm'd--though I speak it--with thy proper worth, And needest not this noise of friends, for we Write out of love, not thy necessity. And though this sullen age possessed be With some strange desamour to poetry, Yet I suspect--thy fancy so delights-- The Puritans will turn thy proselytes, And that thy flame, when once abroad it shines, Will bring thee as many friends as thou hast lines.
Eugenius Philalethes, Oxoniensis.