The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson including many pieces never before published. In Three Volumes |
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TO MRS. ROBINSON,
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 | The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson |  |
TO MRS. ROBINSON,
BY THE LATE GENERAL BURGOYNE, Author of the Heiress, a Comedy, &c. &c. &c.
Laura! when from thy beauteous eyes,
The tear of tender anguish flows;
Such magic in thy sorrow lies,
That ev'ry bosom shares thy woes.
The tear of tender anguish flows;
Such magic in thy sorrow lies,
That ev'ry bosom shares thy woes.
When on thy lovely perfect face,
The sportive dimpled smile we see;
With eager hope the cause we trace,
And wish to share the bliss with thee.
The sportive dimpled smile we see;
With eager hope the cause we trace,
And wish to share the bliss with thee.
xxii
For in thine highly gifted mind,
Superior charms so sweetly blend;
In each such gentle grace we find,
That Envy must thy worth commend!
Superior charms so sweetly blend;
In each such gentle grace we find,
That Envy must thy worth commend!
Oh! who could gaze upon that lip,
That coral lip of brightest hue;
Nor wish the honied balm to sip,
More fresh, more sweet, than morning dew?
That coral lip of brightest hue;
Nor wish the honied balm to sip,
More fresh, more sweet, than morning dew?
But when thy true poetic lays,
Pierce to the Heart's remotest cell;
We feel the conscious innate praise,
Which feeble language fails to tell.
Pierce to the Heart's remotest cell;
We feel the conscious innate praise,
Which feeble language fails to tell.
So melting is thy lute's soft tone,
Each breast unused to feel desire,
Confesses bliss before unknown,
And kindles at the sacred fire!
Each breast unused to feel desire,
Confesses bliss before unknown,
And kindles at the sacred fire!
So chaste, so eloquent thy song,
So true each precept it conveys,
That e'en the Sage shall teach the Young
To take their lesson from thy lays.
So true each precept it conveys,
That e'en the Sage shall teach the Young
To take their lesson from thy lays.
And when thy pen's delightful art
Paints with soft touch Love's tender flame;
Thy verse so melts and mends the heart,
That, taught by thee, we prize his name.
Paints with soft touch Love's tender flame;
Thy verse so melts and mends the heart,
That, taught by thee, we prize his name.
xxiii
Or, when in plaintive melody,
Thou mourn'st the friend thy soul held dear;
Charm'd by thy pow'r, we join with thee,
And weep in sadness o'er his bier.
Thou mourn'st the friend thy soul held dear;
Charm'd by thy pow'r, we join with thee,
And weep in sadness o'er his bier.
Sweet mistress of each yielding heart!
Accept the verse to Genius due;
No flattery can that Bard impart
Who dares address his vows to you.
Accept the verse to Genius due;
No flattery can that Bard impart
Who dares address his vows to you.
February 1, 1791.
| The Poetical Works of the late Mrs Mary Robinson | |