Lib. 3. Ode 30. Poem by John Ashmore

The Argvment.
That more his name is rais'd by Fame,
For Lyrick Poësie,
Than Kings that raise Pyramides,
For lasting memory.
A work I ended have, which brass will far out-weare,
And's higher thā the stately piles that Kings up-rear;
Which neither rating Rain, nor boystrous Northren blast,
Nor progress of years numberless, e'r down shall cast:
On wich ne'r wingd-foot Time shall any vantage have.
I wholly shall not die. My better part, the grave
Shall not inclose. My fame, with Ages following, shall
Growe alwayes green, whiles to the sacred Capitoll
The Priest with silent Vestall virgins up shall goe.
It will be told, whereraging Ausidus doth flowe,
And poor in water where old Daunus forth doth showe
His sun-burnt face to people rude, that I (from lowe
Estate advanc't) was he that first of all did suit
Æolian Songs and Sonnets to a Roman Lute:
Be proud, Melpomene, of this deserved praise,
And binde my temples willingly with Delphian Bayes.

FINIS