memory-verse quotes

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And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
There is a Canon which confines
A Rhymed Octosyllabic Curse
If written in Iambic Verse
To fifty lines.
Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse:
Know Celia, (since thou art so proud),
'Twas I that gave thee thy renowne:
All ye poets of the age,
All ye witlings of the stage,
Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
No far-fetched sigh shall ever wound my breast,
Love from mine eye a tear shall never wring,
Thus have I made my own opinions clear;
Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear:
Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse,
In no ignoble verse;
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