Upon Mr. MASON's taking Orders. 1754

To Holdernesse, the Muses three, Of Painting, Music, Poetry, To him, their long-lov'd patron, friend, In grievous pet this letter send— Give ear, my lord, while we complain, Our sex to you ne'er sigh'd in vain. 'Tis said—A youth by you befriended, Whom to your smiles we recommended; Seduc'd by you, abjures our charms, And flies for ever from our arms! Could D'Arcy, whom we lov'd, caress'd, In whose protection we were bless'd, Could he, to whom our Sire imparts That secret rare to taste our arts, Could he, ungrateful, and unkind! From us estrange our Mason's mind? Could he, who serves and loves the nation, So little weigh its reputation, As in this scarcity of merit, To damp with grace poetic spirit? But be assur'd your scheme is vain— He must, he shall be ours again: Nor crape nor lawn shall quench his fires, We'll fill his breast with new desires. In vain you plead his ordination, His cassock, gown, and grave vocation, Whate'er he now has sworn, he swore, With stronger zeal to us before: He pass'd our forms of consecration, His lips receiv'd our inspiration; To him were all our rites reveal'd, From him no myst'ry was conceal'd— Each kindred pow'r obey'd our call, And grac'd the solemn festival! The Loves forsook their Cyprian bow'rs, And round his temples wreath'd their flow'rs; The Graces danc'd their mystic maze, Our Father struck him with his rays; And all our Sisters one by one, Gave him full draughts of Helicon! Thus bound our servant at the shrine, Ordain'd he was, and made divine.