To Ianthe. With Petrarch's Sonnets

BEHOLD what homage to his idol paid
The tuneful suppliant of Valclusa's shade.
Often his lively fancy tried to cheat
Passion's fixt gaze with some assumed conceit;
Often behind the mould'ring column stood,
And often started from the laureate wood.
His verses still the tender heart engage,
They charm'd a rude, and please a polisht age.
Some are to nature and to passion true,
And all had been so, had he lived for you.
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