The Gown

I, Like Philemon, may Iove's Fav'rite be,
In shelt'ring thus his darling-Mercury.
And yet I hated am, as once was Lot,
When Angels under his blest Roof he got.
Some think it thy disparagement, to see
The Lord of Wit cloath'd in my Livery.
But here thy Worth unjustly they upbraid;
Since Kings sometimes are seen in Maskarade.
Nay 'tis well known, that heavenly Forms appear
In mortal shapes, or seem such Veils to wear.
When next I put it on, for ought I know,
I may infected be, and witty grow.
Some influence must be left; thus pretious Gums
Taken from Boxes leave their rich perfumes.
And I have read—He that did once inherit
Elija's, Mantle, got Elija's Spirit.