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3
TO A LADY:
WITH SOME VISIONS OF THE AUTHOR'S.
Anna, when I that open face survey,And read the gentle language of those eyes,
How the dark hour of bigot dulness flies!
How springs my soul to hail the cheerful day!
What lifts, like female worth, the lyric lay?
Hear, then, how long I wander'd, lost in night,
Till late, the Muse did with enlivening ray
Relume my eyes, and fill with new delight:
Then song could please, and charm the soul of woe,
Prompt the bold thought, and kindle freedom's fire:
And, Anna, this to female worth I owe,
And still, at Beauty's call, I strike the lyre.
The rapturous youthful dream no more I share,
Yet shall the visions live, if they but please the fair.
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