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LXXVIII.
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
And found such
fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath
got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing
And
heavy ignorance aloft to fly
Have added feathers to
the learned's wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose
influence is thine and born of thee:
In others' works
thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet
graces graced be;
But thou art all my art and dost
advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.
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