As your learned correspondent PACIFICUS has condescended to favour us with an EPODOS, which he says was wanting, to complete the Musical Entertainment PHILO-BOSWORTH and I have afforded to the Public, I hope you will permit me in your next, by a few rattling Rhymes, to discover my Gratitude to that sublime Genius, for his inimitable Performance, by which you will again oblige,
Take Thanks Friend Pacificus, Thanks for each line,
Where Wit and Good-Nature amazingly shine.
So sublime is your diction, your thoughts so well laid,
One would think you was Homer awaked from the dead.
I ne’er once imagined (pray don’t take it hard)
Great-Britain could claim such an excellent bard;
You can be no less than the Son of Apollo,
Your Music’s so sweet; nay his Actions you follow.
I fancy his Godship with Music is done,
And’s bequeathed his Lyre to his dutiful Son,
On which to play sweetly your Care so intense is,
Amazed we stand—you quite ravish our Senses.
Old Orpheus ne’er did such raptures inspire,
The Mountains and Woods owned the power of his Lyre;
How greatly obliged then are Philip and I,
For you deigning to cast on our Labours your Eye?
Had it not been for you they had surely been lost,
Just peeped in the world and then gave up the Ghost:
But now shall we doubtless, in ages remote,
Be talked of as Persons of wonderful note;
For if they’ve Discernment, what less can they do,
Than reverence us, so regarded by you?