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Poem by Francis Beaumont


To the True Patroness of All Poetry, Calliope


It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore,
That for his lines none should a patron chuse
By wealth and poverty, by less or more,
But who the same is able to peruse:
Nor ought a man his labour dedicate,
Without a true and sensible desert,
To any power of such a mighty state
But such a wise defendress as thou art
Thou great and powerful Muse, then pardon me
That I presume thy maiden cheek to stain
In dedicating such a work to thee,
Sprung from the issue of an idle brain:
 I use thee as a woman ought to be,
 I consecrate my idle hours to thee.



Francis Beaumont


Francis Beaumont's other poems:
  1. A Funeral Elegy on the Death of the Lady Penelope Clifton
  2. Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson
  3. Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
  4. To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon His Faithful Sheperdess
  5. Salmacis and Hermaphroditus


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