To Monseigneur the Dauphin

I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line, / Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, / Containeth truths it were not ill to teach. / With me all natures use the gift of speech; / Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach, / And to our human selves their sermons suit. / 'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute.

Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies, / On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes, / Who hence shall count his conquests by his days, / And gather from the proudest lips his praise, / A louder voice than mine must tell in song / What virtues to thy kingly line belong. / I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes, / Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams; / And if to please thee shall not be my pride, / I'll gain at least the praise of having tried.[1]