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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dr. Parnel To Dr. Swift, On His Birth-day, November 30th, MDCCXIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Urg'd by the warmth of Friendship's sacred flame,<br>But more by all the glories of thy fame;<br>By all those offsprings of thy learned mind,<br>In judgment solid, as in wit refin'd,<br>Resolv'd I sing: Tho' lab'ring up the way<br>To reach my theme, O Swift, accept my lay.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Rapt by the force of thought, and rais'd above,<br>Thro' Contemplation's airy fields I rove;<br>Where pow'rful Fancy purifies my eye,<br>And lights the beauties of a brighter sky;<br>Fresh paints the meadows, bids green shades ascend,<br>Clear rivers wind, and op'ning plains extend;<br>Then fills its landscape thro' the vary'd parts<br>With Virtues, Graces, Sciences, and Arts:<br>Superiour Forms, of more than mortal air,<br>More large than mortals, more serenely fair.<br>Of these two Chiefs, the guardians of thy name,<br>Conspire to raise thee to the point of fame.<br>Ye Future Times, I heard the silver sound!<br>I saw the Graces form a circle round!<br>Each, where she fix'd, attentive seem'd to root,<br>And all, but Eloquence herself, was mute.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">High o'er the rest I see the Goddess rise,<br>Loose to the breeze her upper garment flies:<br>By turns, within her eyes the Passions burn, <br>And softer Passions languish in their turn:<br>Upon her tongue Persuasion, or Command;<br>And decent Action dwells upon her hand.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">From out her breast ('twas there the treasure lay)<br>She drew thy labours to the blaze of day.<br>Then gaz'd, and read the charms she could inspire,<br>And taught the list'ning audience to admire,<br>How strong thy flight, how large thy grasp of thought,<br>How just thy schemes, how regularly wrought;<br>How sure you wound when Ironies deride,<br>Which must be seen, and feign to turn aside.<br>'Twas thus exploring she rejoic'd to see<br>Her brightest features drawn so near by thee:<br>Then here, she cries, let future ages dwell,<br>And learn to copy where they can't excel.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She spake. Applause attended on the close:<br>Then Poesy, her sister-art, arose;<br>Her fairer sister, born in deeper ease,<br>Not made so much for bus'ness, more to please.<br>Upon her cheek sits Beauty, ever young;<br>The Soul of Music warbles on her tongue;<br>Bright in her eyes a pleasing Ardour glows,<br>And from her heart the sweetest Temper flows:<br>A laurel-wreath adorns her curls of hair,<br>And binds their order to the dancing air:<br>She shakes the colours of her radiant wing,<br>And, from the Spheres, she takes a pitch to sing.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Thrice happy Genius his, whose Works have hit<br>The lucky point of bus'ness and of wit.<br>They seem like show'rs, which April months prepare<br>To call their flow'ry glories up to air:<br>The drops descending, take the painted bow,<br>And dress with sunshine, while for good they flow.<br>To me retiring oft, he finds relief<br>In slowly-wasting care, and biting grief:<br>From me retreating oft, he gives to view<br>What eases care and grief in others too.<br>Ye fondly grave, be wise enough to know,<br>'Life ne'er unbent were but a life of woe.'<br>Some full in stretch for greatness, some for gain,<br>On his own rack each puts himself to pain.<br>I'll gently steal you from your toils away, <br>Where balmy winds with scents ambrosial play;<br>Where, on the banks as crystal rivers flow,<br>They teach immortal amarants to grow:<br>Then, from the mild indulgence of the scene,<br>Restore your tempers strong for toils again.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She ceas'd: Soft music trembled in the wind,<br>And sweet delight diffus'd thro' ev'ry mind:<br>The little Smiles, which still the Goddess grace,<br>Sportive arose, and ran from face to face.<br>But chief (and in that place the Virtues bless)<br>A gentle band their eager joys express:<br>Here Friendship asks, and Love of Merit longs<br>To hear the Goddesses renew their songs;<br>Here great Benevolence to Man is pleas'd;<br>These own their Swift, and grateful hear him prais'd.<br>You gentle band, you well may bear your part,<br>You reign Superior Graces in his heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O swift! if fame be life, (as well we know<br>That Bards and Heroes have esteem'd it so)<br>Thou canst not wholly die; thy works will shine<br>To future times, and Life in Fame be thine.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</a></strong></div>