Excerpt from Leisure Intervals
To Faunus
What honour to my dear friend's son were here,
If all men were like merchants, who must get
Value for value? But, lo! I appear
With your sweet sanction to my labour set;
And you still live unconscious of my debt.
For you're heir to an intellect, which lifts
These numbers to a rank with equal gifts;
And on yet untried ground we thus have met!
Some to the altar finer incense bring,
Some coarser. Faunus, this is all my store.
My Muse hath not learn'd many strains to sing:
Say that these please, and she will higher soar.
A newer brood may prove, perchance, more sturdy on the wing,
And make amends to him, whose name my first-fruits bore.
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