 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
179
TO MRS. SEWELL
ON READING HER POEMS
Of old, when Freedom's sacred fire
Bless'd Grecia's favor'd clime,
The infant Muse first tuned the lyre,
And rais'd her voice sublime.
Then taught by Fancy, Nature's child
In numbers regularly wild,
The nodding woods and rocks among,
The Lesbian nymph oppress'd with care
Pour'd all her sorrows to the air,
In unaffected song.
Bless'd Grecia's favor'd clime,
The infant Muse first tuned the lyre,
And rais'd her voice sublime.
Then taught by Fancy, Nature's child
In numbers regularly wild,
The nodding woods and rocks among,
The Lesbian nymph oppress'd with care
Pour'd all her sorrows to the air,
In unaffected song.
But when the Muse on Latian plains
Diffus'd her gen'rous fire,
No female woke to deathless strains
The many sounding lyre;—
How far more bless'd the British fair!
With them the Muse delights to share
Her softest smile, her brightest flame;
She loves their artless lays to trace,
And in the most exalted place
Enrolls her Sewell's name.
Diffus'd her gen'rous fire,
No female woke to deathless strains
The many sounding lyre;—
How far more bless'd the British fair!
With them the Muse delights to share
Her softest smile, her brightest flame;
She loves their artless lays to trace,
And in the most exalted place
Enrolls her Sewell's name.
For not the boast of earthly power,
The pomp of earthly joy,
The transient blessings of an hour,
Thy nobler lyre employ;
To teach fair Virtue's spotless laws,
To aid Religion's sacred cause
To thee the glorious task was given;
The strain of triumph to prolong,
And swell the rapture-breathing song
Which lifts the mind to Heaven!
The pomp of earthly joy,
The transient blessings of an hour,
Thy nobler lyre employ;
180
To aid Religion's sacred cause
To thee the glorious task was given;
The strain of triumph to prolong,
And swell the rapture-breathing song
Which lifts the mind to Heaven!
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |