 | Dramas |  |
269
TO UGO FOSCOLO,
WITH A SNUFF-BOX.
Ugo, not mine to scan the high control,That wrings for Ortis' woes the honest tear,
And bids us tremble with Ricciarda's fear,
But to the poet's mastery yield my soul!
The patriot course that shall thy name enroll
'Mong those who most have held their country dear—
More dear her glory! and in exile drear
Have borne their honour'd sorrows—Fame's proud scroll
Shall give to after-times!—My task to tell
Of spells that win thee back to lowly earth,
Though in ideal worlds thy genius dwell;
The beaming eye where wit and softness blend!
The homelier radiance of the social hearth,
Haply, e'en now, this bauble from a Friend!
Nov. 1820.
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