EPISTLE XLIII. ΤΟ MRS. BINDON, At Bath. BY THE HONORABLE SIR CHA. HANBURY WILLIAMS, BART. APOLLO of old on Britannia did smile, But now, since the laurel is given of late To Cibber, to Eusden, to Shadwell and Tate, And his harp and his bays to Hibernia remov'd; fore; And further he says, men no longer shall boast EPISTLE XLIV. MRS. BINDON's ANSWER. WHEN home I return'd from the dancing last night, And elate by your praises attempted to write, I familiarly call'd on Apollo for aid, And told him how many fine things you had said. SIR CHARLES's REPLY. I'LL not believe that Phoebus did not smile, To strains like yours of old his harp he strung, Did beauteous Daphne's scorn of proffer'd love Convinc'd from thence, ye were as good as fair. |