The
ANSWER
.
WHEN
I
,
in
feeble
Verse
,
essay'd
NASSAU
and
ANNA's
Praise
,
A
Lyric
Muse
flew
o'er
my
Head
,
And
dropp'd
a
Branch
of
Bays
:
I
would
have
fix'd
it
on
my
Brow
;
But
PHOEBUS
said
,
Forbear
;
'Tis
Vanity
to
touch
the
Bough
,
And
Sacrilege
,
to
wear
.
Give
it
the
Bard
,
who
boldly
dares
Attempt
the
Roman
Lyre
;
Who
wisely
checks
,
but
not
impairs
The
tow'ring
PINDAR's
Fire
.
Thus
,
Sir
,
to
you
,
in
PHOEBUS'
Name
,
The
Laurel
Wreath
I
send
;
And
,
since
the
God
denies
me
Fame
,
Am
glad
it
crowns
my
Friend
.