University of Virginia Library

When ceased the minstrel's crazy song,
His heedful glance embraced the throng,
And found the smile of free delight
Dimpling the cheeks of ladies bright.
Ah! never yet was bard unmoved,
When beauty smiled or birth approved!
For though his song he holds at nought—
“An idle strain! a passing thought!”
Child of the soul! 'tis held more dear
Than aught by mortals valued here.