To the Right Honourable the Earl of Abingdon, &c. My LORD, T HE Commands, with which You honour'd me fome Months ago, are now perform'd: They had been fooner; but betwixt ill Health, fome Bufinefs, and many Troubles, I was forced to defer them 'till this time. Ovid, going to his Banishment, and writing from on Shipboard to his Friends, excufed the Faults of his Poetry by his Misfortunes; and told them, that good Verfes never flow, but from a ferene and compos'd Spirit. Wit, which is a kind of Mercury, with Wings faften'd to his Head and Heels, can fly but flowly in a damp Air. I therefore chofe rather to obey You late than ill: if at leaft I am capable of writing any thing, at any time, which is worthy your Perufal and Your Patronage. I cannot fay that I have efcap'd from a Shipwreck; but have only gain'd a Rock by hard Swimming; where I may pant a while 02 while and gather breath: For the Doctors give mea fad Affurance, that my Difeafe never took its leave of any Man, but with a Purpofe to return. However, my Lord, I have laid hold on the Interval, and manag'd the fmall Stock, which Age has left me, to the beft advantage, in performing this inconfiderable fervice to my Lady's Memory. We, who are Priests of Apollo, have not the Infpiration when we please; but muft wait 'till the God comes rufhing on us, and invades us with a fury, which we are not able to refift: which gives us double Strength while the Fit continues, and leaves us languifhing and spent, at its departure. Let me not feem to boaft, my Lord; for I have really felt it on this Occafion, and prophefy'd beyond my natural Power. Let me add, and hope to be believ'd, that the Excellency of the Subject contributed much to the Happiness of the Execution; and that the weight of thirty Years was taken off me, while I was writing. Ifwam with the Tide, and the Water under me was buoyant. The Reader will eafily obferve, that I was tranfported by the multitude and variety of my Similitudes; which are generally the product of a luxuriant Fancy, and the wantonnefs of Wit. Had I call'd in my Judgment to my affiftance, I had certainly retrench'd many of them. But I defend them not; let them pafs for beautiful faults amongst the better fort of Criticks: For the whole Poem, though written in that which they call Heroick Verfe, is of the Pindarick nature, as well in the Thought as the Expreffion; and, as fuch, requires the fame grains of allowance for it. It was intended, as Your Lordfhip fees in the Title, not for an Elegy, but a Panegyrick: A kind of Apotheofis, indeed, if a Heathen Word may be applied to a Chriftian ufe. And on all Occafions of Praise, if we take the Ancients for our Patterns, we are bound by Prescription to |