Page:An Epistle to Curio - Akenside (1744).djvu/9



Hrice has the Spring beheld thy faded Fame, And the fourth Winter rises on thy Shame, Since I exulting grasp'd the votive Shell, In Sounds of Triumph all thy Praise to tell; Blest could my Skill thro' Ages make thee shine, And proud to mix my Memory with thine. But now the Cause that wak'd my Song before, With Praise, with Triumph crowns the Toil no more. If to the glorious Man, whose faithful Cares, Nor quell'd by Malice, nor relax'd by Years, Had