Imperial Bard! if while my humble strain
Thy precepts sung to Albion's warlike train,
Her critic ear approving caught the sound,
And favoring smiles my finish'd labor crown'd,
Her plaudits to thy glowing verse belong
But faintly imaged in my ruder song.
Then as the Muse to thee assiduous pays
This honest tribute of Britannia's praise,
Though Fame has cull'd from Phœbus' sacred tree
The Poet's and the Victor's wreath for thee,
And History shall twine around thy brow
Eternal crowns of her unfading bough,
Forgive the officious zeal that interweaves
This transient blossom with thy Laurel Leaves.
More verses by Henry James Pye
- The War-Elegies Of Tyrtæus, Imitated: Elegy Iv.
- Written On A Lady’s Fan
- Song: Fair Delia While Each Sighing Swain
- A Fragment Of Simonides
- Alfred. Book Iv.