Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.

Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.

Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?

Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.

The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.