Health to my limbs may the kind Gods impart,
And thy fair form delight my yielding heart!
Grant me to shun each vile inglorious road,
To see thy way, and trace each moral good;
If more—let Wisdom's sons my page peruse,
And decent credit deck my modest Muse.
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Nor deem it pride that prophesies, my song
Shall please the sons of taste, and please them long.
Say, ye, to whom my Muse submissive brings