When Apollo pursu'd his coy Mistress of old,
If his Harp, as they tell us, was made of right Gold;
He should not have plagued her with Verses and Sighs,
But set the fair Gift in the Reach of her Eyes!
Had she seen but the Work, and been told what it weigh'd,
He need not have run,—for the Nymph would have stay'd;
Comply'd with his Flame, granted all his Desire,
8: And surrender'd her Charms in exchange for the Lyre.

More verses by Samuel Boyse