Ah Sacred _Wadham_! should’st thou never own But this delight of all Mankind and thine; For Ages past of Dulness, this alone, This Charming Hero would Attone. And make thee Glorious to succeeding time; But thou like Natures self disdain’st to be, Stinted to Singularity. Even as fast as she thou dost produce, And over all the Sacred Mystery infuse. No sooner was fam’d _Strephon’s_ Glory set, _Strephon_ the Soft, the Lovely and the Great; But _Daphnis_ rises like the Morning-Star, That guides the Wandring Traveller from afar. _Daphnis_ whom every Grace, and Muse inspires, Scarce _Strephons_ Ravishing Poetic Fires So kindly warm, or so divinely Cheer. Advance Young _Daphnis_, as thou hast begun, So let thy Mighty Race be run. Thou in thy large Poetick Chace, Begin’st where others end the Race. If now thy Grateful Numbers are so strong, If they so early can such Graces show, Like Beauty so surprizing, when so Young, What _Daphnis_ will thy Riper Judgment do, When thy Unbounded Verse in their own Streams shall flow! What Wonder will they not produce, } When thy Immortal Fancy’s loose; } Unfetter’d, Unconfin’d by any other Muse! } Advance Young _Daphnis_ then, and mayst thou prove Still sacred in thy Poetry and Love. May all the Groves with _Daphnis_ Songs be blest, Whilst every Bark is with thy Disticks drest. May Timerous Maids learn how to Love from thence And the Glad Shepherd _Arts of Eloquence_. And when to Solitude thou would’st Retreat, May their tun’d Pipes thy Welcome celebrate. And all the Nymphs strow Garlands at thy Feet. May all the Purling Streams that murmuring pass, The Shady Groves and Banks of Flowers, The kind reposing Beds of Grass, Contribute to their Softer Hours. Mayst thou thy Muse and Mistress there Caress, And may one heighten to ‘thers Happiness. And whilst thou so divinely dost Converse, We are content to know and to admire thee in thy Sacred Verse. _To Mrs._ W. _On her Excellent Verses (Writ in Praise of some I had made on the Earl of_ Rochester) _Written in a Fit of Sickness._