There may thy Muse display her flutt'ring wing, And stretch herself at large from east to west; Whither thou list in fair Elisa[16] rest, Or, if thee please in bigger notes to sing, Advance the Worthy whom she loveth best, That first the White Bear to the stake did bring. And, when the stubborn stroke of stronger stounds Has somewhat slack'd the tenor of thy string, Of love and lustihead then mayst thou sing, And carol loud, and lead the Miller's round, All were Elisa one of thilk same ring; So might our Cuddie's name to heaven sound. CUD. Indeed the Romish Tityrus, I hear, Through his Mecænas left his oaten reed, Whereon he erst had taught his flocks to feed, And laboured lands to yield the timely ear, And eft did sing of wars and deadly dreed So as the heavens did quake his verse to hear. But ah! Mecænas is yclad in clay, And great Augustus long ago is dead, And all the worthies liggen wrapt in lead, That matter made for poets on to play: For ever, who in derring-do were dread, The lofty verse of them was loved aye. But after Virtue gan for age to stoop, And mighty Manhood brought a bed of ease, The vaunting poets found nought worth a pease To put in press among the learned troop; Then gan the streams of flowing wits to cease, And sunbright honour penn'd in shameful coop. And if that any buds of Poesy, Yet of the old stock, gan to shoot again, Or it men's follies must to-force to feign, And roll with rest in rhymes of ribaudry; Or, as it sprung, it wither must again; Tom Piper makes us better melody. PIERS. O peerless Po'sy! where is then thy place? If nor in princes' palace thou dost sit, (And yet is princes' palace the most fit,) Ne breast of baser birth doth thee embrace, Then make thee wings of thine aspiring wit, And, whence thou cam'st, fly back to heaven apace. CUD. Ah! Percy, it is all-to weak and wan, So high to soar and make so large a flight; Her pieced pinions be not so in plight: For Colin fits such famous flight to scan; He, were he not with love so ill bedight, Would mount as high and sing as sweet as swan. PIERS. Ah! fon; for Love does teach him climb so high, And lifts him up out of the loathsome mire; Such immortal mirror, as he doth admire, Would raise one's mind above the starry sky, And cause a caitiff courage to aspire; For lofty love doth loathe a lowly eye. CUD. All otherwise the state of Poet stands; For lordly Love is such a tyrant fell, That, where he rules, all power he doth expel; The vaunted verse a vacant head demands, Ne wont with crabbed care the Muses dwell: Unwisely weaves, that takes two webs in hand.