 | Poems by William Kendall |  |
35
VI. To Mr. JACKSON, Of Exeter.
The Bard who Pindar's
mighty name
Assuming, gains the steep of fame;
In deathless verse thy skill displays,
With magic sweetness sings thy praise:
Yet, minstrel of the Graces, hear
Unpolish'd songs tho' rude, sincere.
Assuming, gains the steep of fame;
In deathless verse thy skill displays,
With magic sweetness sings thy praise:
Yet, minstrel of the Graces, hear
Unpolish'd songs tho' rude, sincere.
Soother of love's severest pain,
The muse impassion'd prompts thy strain.
Strike, pensive strike the trembling string,
In soul-subduing measures sing!
With melody's divinest fire,
Like Orpheus animate the lyre!
The muse impassion'd prompts thy strain.
Strike, pensive strike the trembling string,
In soul-subduing measures sing!
With melody's divinest fire,
Like Orpheus animate the lyre!
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I feel thy lays light-floating round—
My bosom vibrates at the sound:
In sweet oblivion lost, with thee
I sink in dreams of extasy.
Now, fancy-led my spirit flies
To fairer climes, to purer skies,
No fears disturb, no cares annoy,
Each thought is love, each accent joy.
My bosom vibrates at the sound:
In sweet oblivion lost, with thee
I sink in dreams of extasy.
Now, fancy-led my spirit flies
To fairer climes, to purer skies,
No fears disturb, no cares annoy,
Each thought is love, each accent joy.
The measures change! 'tis joy no more—
Of slighted vows the notes deplore.
My soul dissolves in tenderest woe,
Delicious tears unbidden flow!
So sadly pleasing seems my grief,
That scarce my bosom seeks relief;
So sweet the sorrowing songs aspire
I bless the pensive mourner's lyre;
Delighted hear his voice complain,
Nor, drown'd in rapture, heed his pain.
Of slighted vows the notes deplore.
My soul dissolves in tenderest woe,
Delicious tears unbidden flow!
So sadly pleasing seems my grief,
That scarce my bosom seeks relief;
So sweet the sorrowing songs aspire
I bless the pensive mourner's lyre;
Delighted hear his voice complain,
Nor, drown'd in rapture, heed his pain.
Had He
whose ever-during rhimes
Exalt the muse of elder times,
The muse whose all-commanding powers
Were witness'd in Athenian bowers,
Felt the pure bliss thy notes impart;
The Bard had own'd their equal art—
Since all the charms to thine belong,
His lays ascribe to Grecian song.
Exalt the muse of elder times,
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Were witness'd in Athenian bowers,
Felt the pure bliss thy notes impart;
The Bard had own'd their equal art—
Since all the charms to thine belong,
His lays ascribe to Grecian song.
| Poems by William Kendall | |