LXXVII.

Thy glafs will fhow thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayft thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's fhady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progrefs to eternity.

Look, what thy memory cannot contain

Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.

Thefe offices, so oft as thou wilt look,

Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.

LXXVIII.

So oft have I invoked thee for my Mufe
And found fuch fair affiftance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poefy disperse.

Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to fing

And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,

Have added feathers to the learned's wing

And given grace a double majesty.

Yet be most proud of that which I compile,

Whose influence is thine and born of thee:
In others' works thou doft but mend the style,
And arts with thy fweet graces graced be;

But thou art all my art, and doft advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.