SONG: TO CELIA Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love. Of a few poor household spies? These have crimes accounted been. TO HEAVEN 5 10 15 ་ show To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. 46 He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm! Nature herself was proud of his designs And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines! Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit. 51 As. since, she will vouchsafe no other wit. But antiquated and deserted lie, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat 60 Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same (And himself with it) that he thinks to frame, Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn; For a good poet's made, as well as born. And such wert thou! Look how the father's face 65 Lives in his issue, even so the race Of Shakspere's mind and manners brightly shines In his well turnèd, and true filèd lines; |