Miscellanies in Prose and Verse By Anna Williams |
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AN ITALIAN SONG, SUNG BY MRS. MINGOTTI, At the Beginning of the late War, TRANSLATED. |
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 | Miscellanies in Prose and Verse |  |
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AN ITALIAN SONG, SUNG BY MRS. MINGOTTI, At the Beginning of the late War, TRANSLATED.
Ye nymphs, where worth and knowledge mix'd with grace,
Makes the bright mind a rival to the face,
From my full heart, my tongue in grateful lays,
Wou'd pour the tuneful tribute of your praise,
By you approv'd, my soaring muse would find,
Harmonious words expressive of my mind;
But tim'rous doubt repells the daring thought,
Nor voice, nor pen, can praise you as it ought:
Fear checks my genius and retards my art,
Glows on my cheek, and trembles round my heart.
Makes the bright mind a rival to the face,
From my full heart, my tongue in grateful lays,
Wou'd pour the tuneful tribute of your praise,
By you approv'd, my soaring muse would find,
Harmonious words expressive of my mind;
But tim'rous doubt repells the daring thought,
Nor voice, nor pen, can praise you as it ought:
Fear checks my genius and retards my art,
Glows on my cheek, and trembles round my heart.
Ye British heroes, to my notes attend;
With favour grace me, and your pow'r defend;
By you approv'd I in this task engage,
By you recall'd once more I tread the stage;
No more to sing the virtues, or the crimes,
Of ancient heroes born in distant climes,
Such themes alone as to your fame belong
Shall tune my voice and animate my song;
Each favourite Fair exulting in your praise,
Shall aid the echoes of my festive lays.
With favour grace me, and your pow'r defend;
By you approv'd I in this task engage,
By you recall'd once more I tread the stage;
No more to sing the virtues, or the crimes,
Of ancient heroes born in distant climes,
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Shall tune my voice and animate my song;
Each favourite Fair exulting in your praise,
Shall aid the echoes of my festive lays.
The AIR.
THE lofty subject of my strainShall next their daring efforts be;
Who strive from you, but strive in vain,
To wrest the trident of the sea:
Pleas'd Thames shall quit his rocky cave,
And listen to my Tuscan song,
Attention still his subject wave,
His laughing banks the notes prolong.
| Miscellanies in Prose and Verse | |