Classic Poem

The sister Nymphes , who haunt the Thespian Springs,
Ne're did their Gifts more liberally bequeath
To them, who on their hills suck'd sacred Breath,
Than unto thee, by which thou sweetly sings.
Ne're did Apollo raise on Pegase Wings
A Muse more neare himselfe, more farre from Earth,
Than thine; if Shee doe weepe thy Ladies Death,
Or sing those sweet-sowre Panges which Passion brings.
To write our Thoughts in Verse doth merite Praise,
But those our Verse to gild in Fiction's Ore,
Bright, rich, delightfull, doth deferue much more,
As thou hast done these thy delicious Layes:
Thy Muse's Morning (doubtlesse) doth bewray
The neare Approach of a more glistring Day .