So is it not with me as with that Muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse.
Shakespeare, Sonnet 21.
So may some gentle Muse,
With lucky words favour my destined urn,
And, as he passes, turn.
Milton, Lycidas, 19.
Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses’ friend,
Himself a Muse.
Dryden, Absalom and Achitophel, pt. 1.