Poems and translations amorous, lusory, morall, divine [collected and translated] by Edvvard Sherburne ...

To Mr Stanley, on his unimitable Poems.

THe Stagirite, who Poesie defines An Imitation, had he read thy Lines, And thy rich Fancy known, he would have then Recall'd the learned Error of his Pen, And have confest, in his convicted State, Nought those could equall, this would imitate; VVhich from no forraign Supplement doth spring, Nor any Stand, but its own Height, take VVing. And but that We should seem so to misprise The Influence of Chariessa's Eyes, VVe should not think Love did these Flames inspire, Rather, that thou taught'st Love this noble Fire: And, by a generous VVay thy hopes t' improve, Shew'dst her before thou didst, how thou could'st love; And the old, common Method didst invert, First made her Mistris of thy Brain, then Heart, Some Phant'sies growth may from their Subjects take, Thine doth not Subjects find, but subjects make; VVhose numerous strains we vainly strive to praise 'Less We could ours, high as thy Phant'sie, raise.

Large Praise we might give some, with small Expence Of Wit, cry Excellent! how praise Excellence? The Painters Fate is ours, his hand may grace, Or take a bad, scarse hit a beauteous Face. Nor can our Art a sitting value sit Upon thy noble Courtesie of Wit, Which to so many Toungs doth lend that store Of pleasing sweetnes which they lack'd before. Th' Iberian, Roman, and the fluent Greek; The nimble French, and the smooth Thuscan, seek For severall Graces from thy Pen alone, Which that affoords to all these Toungs, in One. Whose forraign Wealth transferr'd, improv'd by thine, Doth with a fair Increase of Lustre shine Like Gems new set upon some richer Foyle, Or Roses planted in a better Soyle. If 'bove all Lawrels then thy Merits rise, What can this Sprig (which while 'tis offer'd, dies) Add to the Wreath that does adorn thy Brows? No Bayes will suit with that but thy own Bowghs.