The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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STANZAS, To ------, with the FOREGOING ELEGIES. |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
178
STANZAS, To ------, with the FOREGOING ELEGIES.
Since you permit the lowly Muse
This Offering at your Feet to lay,
Her Flight with Ardour she renews,
Nor heeds the Perils of the Way:
This Offering at your Feet to lay,
Her Flight with Ardour she renews,
Nor heeds the Perils of the Way:
If, in the Poet's artless Lays,
Late warbled in his native Grove,
You find, perchance, one Line to praise,
Or should one Sentiment approve;
Late warbled in his native Grove,
You find, perchance, one Line to praise,
Or should one Sentiment approve;
Let Critics babble, o'er and o'er,
Of Figures false, and Accent wrong,
Blest in thy Smile, he asks no more—
There must be Merit in the Song.
Of Figures false, and Accent wrong,
Blest in thy Smile, he asks no more—
There must be Merit in the Song.
But, when of Epitaph, and Worm,
Of Death, and Tombs, the Bard doth rave,
You 'll ask, How 'scap'd he from the Storm?
What Power hath snatch'd him from the Grave?
Of Death, and Tombs, the Bard doth rave,
You 'll ask, How 'scap'd he from the Storm?
What Power hath snatch'd him from the Grave?
The Muse the Secret will impart;
(For what avails it to disguise?)
A Speck he saw in Daphne's Heart,
That dimm'd the Lustre of her Eyes.
(For what avails it to disguise?)
A Speck he saw in Daphne's Heart,
That dimm'd the Lustre of her Eyes.
179
But, had the Maid thy Power possess'd,
To bind and strengthen Beauty's Charm;
The Virtues glowing in thy Breast;
The Graces breathing in thy Form:
To bind and strengthen Beauty's Charm;
The Virtues glowing in thy Breast;
The Graces breathing in thy Form:
Of Manners gentle, and sincere,
Had Daphne been what—is,
And had Misfortune's Stroke severe
Then robb'd him of the promis'd Bliss,
Had Daphne been what—is,
And had Misfortune's Stroke severe
Then robb'd him of the promis'd Bliss,
Too big for Words, the deep Distress
Had quickly stopp'd the Poet's Tongue:
O'er-borne by Passion's wild Excess,
His Heart had sunk, unwept, unsung.
Had quickly stopp'd the Poet's Tongue:
O'er-borne by Passion's wild Excess,
His Heart had sunk, unwept, unsung.
The Youth, too sure, had dy'd unknown;
No Lover's Sigh his Shade had bless'd;
No rude Memorial on his Stone
Had mark'd his Ashes from the Rest;
No Lover's Sigh his Shade had bless'd;
No rude Memorial on his Stone
Had mark'd his Ashes from the Rest;
Unless, perchance, with one kind Tear,
The pitying Maid his Fate should mourn,
And bid some happier Servant's Care
To throw a Laurel on his Urn.
The pitying Maid his Fate should mourn,
And bid some happier Servant's Care
To throw a Laurel on his Urn.
| The Shamrock | |