University of Virginia Library

To SYLVIA.

Sent by the Author unknown.

As from the deep Recesses of a Grove,
The plaintive Philomela chants her Love;
Herself unseen, yet through the neighbouring Plain,
Delightful Shrills the melancholly strain:
So strives the Muse with bold Attempt to sing,
Harsh tho' her Voice, tho' feeble be her Wing,
Happy at last in this, that still unknown,
She trusts the Folly to herself alone.
Thrice happier still, if, with her faithful Strain
She can one Moment Sylvia's Ear detain;

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And with the solitary Tea, can share
The Glory to divert the pensive Fair.
ACCEPT, bright Maid, this tributary Song;
To you the Labours of the Muse belong:
To you she sings; inspired by your name,
She kindles with the Poet's gen'rous Flame.
Nor scorn her Lay, because unseen, unknown,
She modest roams the gloomy Grove alone.
The gurgling Brook, which through some Wood does stray,
And in soft Musick glides the dusky Way;
Altho' from public View retir'd her Streams,
Which pendent Trees obscure from Phoebus Beams,
Yet not less pleasing is her num'rous Roar,
Less sweet her Nectar, or less cool her Shore.