 | Poetical amusements at a villa near Bath |  |
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On the same.
Mrs. M---ll---r.
Assist me, Muse, to hail this sacred morn,
So may the verdant wreath my brows adorn.
So may the verdant wreath my brows adorn.
And O! thou hallow'd shade
, be ever near,
Protect thy urn, and hear a votary's pray'r:
Inspire these rival bards with powers to shine
Sublime in thought, to elevate each line:
Or teach with eloquence, like thine, to move
Th'obdurate breast, and soften into love.
And though they strive each other to excel,
May never rancour in their bosoms dwell.
The scowling eye, the smother'd laugh, portend
That satire lurks beneath the vale of friend:
Nor let pale Envy ever enter here,
That foe to beauty, source of endless care.
Protect thy urn, and hear a votary's pray'r:
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Sublime in thought, to elevate each line:
Or teach with eloquence, like thine, to move
Th'obdurate breast, and soften into love.
And though they strive each other to excel,
May never rancour in their bosoms dwell.
The scowling eye, the smother'd laugh, portend
That satire lurks beneath the vale of friend:
Nor let pale Envy ever enter here,
That foe to beauty, source of endless care.
Assist me, Muse, to hail this sacred morn,
So may the verdant wreath my brows adorn.
So may the verdant wreath my brows adorn.
Ye Nymphs, who kindly leave Bath's giddy round,
And seek these shades, to tread poetic ground,
Whilst virtue, modesty, discretion, join,
And candour from your eyes shed rays benign,
The Graces always near you shall appear,
O'er your soft cheeks the rose shall bloom each year;
Immortal verse shall lend her heav'nly aid,
Nor time, nor wint'ry blasts, those charms shall fade.
And seek these shades, to tread poetic ground,
Whilst virtue, modesty, discretion, join,
And candour from your eyes shed rays benign,
95
O'er your soft cheeks the rose shall bloom each year;
Immortal verse shall lend her heav'nly aid,
Nor time, nor wint'ry blasts, those charms shall fade.
May each revolving sun, that gilds the skies,
Still see the attic fire of Tully rise:
As the bright Phœnix, springing from the flame
Of her enliven'd ashes, mounts to fame.
Still see the attic fire of Tully rise:
As the bright Phœnix, springing from the flame
Of her enliven'd ashes, mounts to fame.
| Poetical amusements at a villa near Bath | |