To the Learn'd and Ingenious Dr. Musgrave of Exeter. Lady Mary Chudleigh Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T97275 Chudleigh, Mary Lee, 1656-1710. Poems on several occasions. Together with the Song of the three children paraphras'd. By the Lady Chudleigh. London Printed by W.B. for Bernard Lintott at the Middle Temple Gate in Fleetstreet 1703 pp. 77-80. [16],125,[17],73,[1]p.; 8⁰.

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To the Learn'd and Ingenious Dr. Musgrave of Exeter . 1. THose who like me their Gratitude would show , Are griev'd to think they still must owe : Be still oblig'd , and never know the way The smallest part of the vast Sum to pay : A Sum beyond th' Arithmetick of Thought , And which does daily higher rise : To be your Debtor is no more my Fault , The whole that I can give , will not suffice : I am too poor Returns to make , Unless you'll Thanks as a Requital take : Thanks are the whole that I can bring : My Muse shall of Your wondrous Bounty sing ; Your gen'rous Temper to the World make known , That gen'rous Temper you've so often shown , And which I still must with the highest Praises own . 2. But what , alas , is it I say ! Can I with Thanks for a lov'd Daughter pay ? Can her dear Life that's owing to your Care , Any Proportion to such Trifles bear ? With weeping Eyes I saw her fainting lie , Gasping for Breath , But saw no Safety nigh . As some poor Wretch who from the distant Shore , And with insulting Waves quite cover'd o'er , With piteous Crys does for Assistance pray , And strives t' escape the liquid Death ; Thus almost lost your helpless Patient lay , To the devouring Waters left a Prey , Till she was rescu'd by your Hand : By such amazing Skill , and Depth of Thought , Once more into the Number of the Living brought : Where she the Trophy of Your Art do's stand , That pow'rful Art , which hitherto does save A Life , which long since seem'd determin'd to the Grave . 3. Under Your Care while she remain'd , Each Day she Strength and Spirits gain'd : Her Health such quick Advances made , That all with Wonder did its Progress view , And when they look'd on her , applauded you : But since she from your Care was snatch'd away Like Plants which want reviving Rays , She withers in the Shade , And hourly does decay : Had Heav'n design'd her Length of Days , She ne'er had been from you remov'd , But Fate to her has inauspicious prov'd : Weak as she is , she still does Thanks repay , Does still your former Favours own , Those Kindnesses you've in her Sickness shown ; And in the fittest Words that she can frame , She strives to pay her Homage to your Fame , And add a worthless Mite to th' Glory of your Name . 4. But by a Child , and one so young , There can be no becoming Praises sung : I'll undertake the Task , and try If I can her Defect supply : My Muse shall strive to make your Virtues known ; Those Virtues which you modestly conceal , She shall to th' applauding World reveal : Your Prudence , Truth , and Justice shall rehearse , Tho' each alone Would prove a copious Subject for her Verse : And you to all Mankind shall recommend , For the sincerest , most obliging Friend , For one in whom they may confide , on whom they may depend : For one who's blest with all they can desire , With whatsoever can Esteem engage ; With all those Qualities in one combin'd , Which singly they admire , And can but seldom find : Who to the Coolness of delib'rate Age , Has added all that sprightly youthful Fire , Which do's the noblest Thoughts inspire : To solid Judgment , elevated Sense , And all the Knowledge Learning can dispence , Has join'd the Charms of pow'rful Eloquence . 5. You like a second Æsculapius rise , Before you Fame , that noisie Goddess , flies , And Musgrave's Name is echo'd thro' the Skies : Th' obsequious Mountains answer to the Sound , And friendly Winds disperse the glorious Accents round . Diseases yield ; they to your Art submit , And Health does on your Steps attend ; When you appear , Death must her Conquest quit ; She dares not touch what you defend : Murm'ring she flies , griev'd at her Loss of Pow'r ; And finds she must not now with so much Ease devour , Long may you live the Blessing of this Isle , From ev'ry Pain , and ev'ry Ill secure ; On you may Fortune ever smile , And still your Happiness ensure . O may we long your Conversation have , And with the Sweets of Friendship blest , For num'rous Years defeat the Grave , And keep you back from everlasting Rest ; Till tir'd with Length of Days , and crown'd with Fame , You the great Privilege of Dying claim , Pleas'd to live only here in an immortal Name .