To Mr — ("All Court the Rising Sun")

All Court the Rising Sun; some, from the morn,
Conclude what Lustre shall the Day adorn.
Your earliest dawn, my Friend, was chearful day,
You shone out first with a Meridian ray.
Tho' dusky Clouds some Beams did hov'ring hide,
The Work was Day, 'twas perfect Day descry'd.
This all infer from the succeeding Skies,
After one Day, another Day must Rise.
O may thy Phaebus never set in Night,
For, all the God shines in each Scene you write.
Why should my Voice pronounce the labour good?
'Tis praise enough to say 'tis understood.
Loud are the Clamours which applauses Fire;
You force much more, we silently admire;
When seen, you ravish, but when read, inspire.
All Judge you hence, in the first piece you writ,
Loose, but thro' Fashion, not thro' want of wit.
For now, more new, (tho' Genuine Garbs) you choose,
And deck, with modest Charms, the Comick Muse.
At once such profit, such delight you raise,
Collier himself (if Collier can) should praise.
But hold —
While here to stay the Reader's Eyes I strive,
You of your best Applause, by praising, I deprive.