University of Virginia Library


128

SONNET TO ELIZA.

Ah! do the Muses, once so coy and shy,
Pursue Menander, hard as legs can lay?
By Heavens, Menander swears, he will not fly,
But meet their gentle ladyships half way!
What! shall this coward bard turn pale with fear,
When clinging round his knees these virgins lie?
Is he afraid of drowning in a tear,
Or being blown to atoms by a sigh?
No, dear Eliza, with expanded arms
I turn to clasp the fair one that pursues;
But, struck with such divinity of charms,
Shrink from alliance with so bright a muse.
Yet weep not, that from Hymen's yoke I've slipt my neck,
For you've escaped a bite, while I have lost a spec.