TO
Dr.
JOHN
SPEED
of
Southampton
.
An
EPISTLE
,
Occasion'd
by
his
Ingenious
Sa
tyr
on
the
Dissenters
,
mingled
with
his
Encomium
of
Mr.
Lloyd's
Paraphrase
on
Solomon's
Song
,
printed
in
8vo
.
1682.
TRUE
Son
of
Phoebus
,
Heir
t'
his
Tuneful
Quill
,
His
murthering
Arrows
,
and
his
healing
Skill
:
Thy
Bills
his
Med'cines
are
,
his
Lyre
thy
Song
,
Thine
Heart
his
Quiver
,
and
his
Bow
thy
Tongue
:
Neque
sempec
arcum
Tendit
Apollo
.
Horat.
lib.
2.
Od.
10.
But
here's
no
Python
:
Sooth
thine
Arms
a
while
,
And
charm
thy
stately
Rigor
to
a
Smile
,
For
Schism
prevails
no
more
;
we
love
to
see
Our
Words
and
Lines
in
Couplings
well
agree
Nor
do
we
thus
abhor
Conformity
.
Hymns
may
be
soft
and
smooth
and
comely
Drest
With
humane
Art
,
nor
savour
of
the
Beast
,
A
Lyrick
Ode
submits
to
Godly
Notes
;
Harmonious
Words
no
more
offend
our
Throats
.
Nor
Rhime
,
nor
Tune
,
nor
Sacred
Sense
confines
The
Spirit
,
Freedom
flows
in
tuneful
Lines
,
And
Conscience
feels
the
Pleasure
,
nor
complains
Of
Impositions
,
Prisons
,
Bonds
,
and
Chains
,
Whilst
pure
Devotion
sings
and
ANNE
th'
Indul
gent
Reigns
.
Then
,
Sir
,
Submit
with
Joy
thine
Iron
Stile
To
the
soft
Polish
of
a
gentle
File
;
The
Courteous
Muse
shines
brightest
;
and
'tis
fit
Apollo's
Heir
should
deal
in
kinder
Wit
.
SPEED
to
his
Lute
in
Artful
Numbers
sings
Melodious
;
till
his
Angry
Bow
he
brings
Across
the
Chorded
Shell
,
and
hurts
the
gentler
Strings
.