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IMPROMPTU,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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128

IMPROMPTU,

FOR A LADY SINGING TO A RIOTOUS AND INSENSIBLE COMPANY.

Enchantress, cease! what though Amphion's song
Could draw the herds and softening wilds along,
No equal power thy carol'd words impart,
To move and melt the vegetating heart;
Though sweet their breathings as his gifted lyre,
They wake no wonder, and no praise inspire!
He, blest musician, poured his soul, and then
Rocks seemed to feel, and brutes appeared as men—
Reversed—the magic of thy charmed strain,
Now falls on men turned rocks or brutes again!