Sometimes to feed my Flocks with him, My _Jemmy_ wou’d invite me: Where he the Gayest Songs wou’d sing, On purpose to delight me. And _Jemmy_ every Grace displayd, Which were enough I trow, To Conquer any Princely Maid, So did he me I Vow. But now for _Jemmy_ must I mourn, Who to the Warrs must go; His Sheephook to a Sword must turne: Alack what shall I do? His Bag-pipe into War-like Sounds, Must now Exchanged bee: Instead of Braceletts, fearful Wounds; Then what becomes of me? _To Mr._ Creech (_under the Name of_ Daphnis) _on his Excellent Translation of_ Lucretius. Thou great Young Man! Permit amongst the Crowd Of those that sing thy mighty Praises lowd, My humble _Muse_ to bring its Tribute too. Inspir’d by thy vast flight of Verse, Methinks I should some wondrous thing rehearse, Worthy Divine _Lucretius_, and Diviner Thou. But I of Feebler Seeds design’d, Whilst the slow moving Atomes strove, With careless heed to form my Mind: Compos’d it all of Softer Love. In gentle Numbers all my Songs are Drest, And when I would thy Glories sing, What in strong manly Verse I would express, Turns all to Womannish Tenderness within, Whilst that which Admiration does inspire, In other Souls, kindles in mine a Fire. Let them admire thee on--Whilst I this newer way Pay thee yet more than they: For more I owe, since thou hast taught me more, Then all the mighty Bards that went before. Others long since have Pal’d the vast delight; In duller _Greek_ and _Latin_ satisfy’d the Appetite: But I unlearn’d in Schools, disdain that mine Should treated be at any Feast but thine. Till now, I curst my Birth, my Education, And more the scanted Customes of the Nation: Permitting not the Female Sex to tread, The mighty Paths of Learned Heroes dead. The God-like _Virgil_, and great _Homers_ Verse, Like Divine Mysteries are conceal’d from us. We are forbid all grateful Theams, No ravishing thoughts approach our Ear, The Fulsom Gingle of the times, Is all we are allow’d to understand or hear. But as of old, when men unthinking lay, Ere Gods were worshipt, or ere Laws were fram’d The wiser Bard that taught ‘em first t’ obey, Was next to what he taught, ador’d and fam’d; Gentler they grew, their words and manners chang’d, And salvage now no more the Woods they rang’d. So thou by this Translation dost advance Our Knowledg from the State of Ignorance, And equals us to Man! Ah how can we, Enough Adore, or Sacrifice enough to thee.