SIR, were your Eloquence and Learning mine,
And I, like you, a Fav'rite of the Nine;
I quickly would  Summit climb,
And find a Hero worthy of my Rhyme:
Nor should my Muse the  Monarchs trace,
Nor would I celebrate the  Race;
Nor any of those martial Sons of Fame,
Pagans, unworthy of a Christian's Theme.
Far nobler Thoughts my grateful Voice should raise,
In lofty Strains, to great MESSIAH's Praise:
I'd joyfully resound his wond'rous Birth,
And paint his Godlike Virtues, whilst on Earth;
Then, with Reluctance, Horror, and Surprize,
I'd mournfully relate his Agonies;
I'd trace the heav'nly Hero to the Tree,
Sing what he suffer'd there for you and me;
Next, in heroic Numbers, would I tell,
How soon he baffled Death, and vanquish'd Hell,
Subdu'd the Grave, and shew'd the glorious Way,
From Realms of Darkness, to eternal Day.
Such noble Subjects should my Lays excite;
And you, my Patron, would in such delight;
Grateful to me, when you, well-pleas'd, should view
Th'accomplish'd sacred Song inscrib'd to you.