Dear
Clovis!
can'st thou entertain one Thought
That I, who've with so many Hazards sought
T'oblige and please Thee, now would blot thy Name,
Or seek t'Eclipse thy well deservèd Fame?
Should but one word slip from my heedless Tongue,
Against that Virtue I've admired so long,
To expiate its guilt, I'd in thy sight,
The Impious Criminal in pieces bite.
Knew'st thou my thoughts, I then would scorn to fear
The Envious Tales of any Whisperer:
But since that Object is not in thy ken(1),
My Heart's true Effigies take from my Pen;
In my Esteem, thou hast so high a Seat,
All I think of Thee's, Eminently great:
From thy sweet Tongue, one word ne'er slipped away,
That holy Priests, or Angels, might not say:
Thy Actions so just, and free from Blame,
Heaven by thy Life its Sacred Laws might frame:
The scattered Virtues that all mankind Share,
In thy great self alone united are:
These are my thoughts of Thee, and while they flow
Thus pure, my Tongue can no foul language know:
Those profane Words could never come from me,
For had'st thou Faults, I have no Eyes to see:
So fast the Ties of sacred Friendship bind,
That when I should not see, I can be blind:
Thou know'st I can not wrong thee, if I would;
And
Clovis
know, I would not if I could.