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II. VOL. II.
173
THE BOUQUET.
------ Ego apis Matinæ
More modoque
Grata carpentis thyma per laborem
Plurimum, circa nemus uvidique
Tiburis ripas, operosa parvus
Carmina fingo.
More modoque
Grata carpentis thyma per laborem
Plurimum, circa nemus uvidique
Tiburis ripas, operosa parvus
Carmina fingo.
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I. VERSES OCCASIONED BY AN ACCIDENT.
It chanc'd, her gay triumph to check,
As Amanda was dancing with grace,
The chain that encompass'd her neck
Came asunder, and fell from its place.
As Amanda was dancing with grace,
The chain that encompass'd her neck
Came asunder, and fell from its place.
Be it mine, said the youth at her side,
To entrammel a heart that would stray.
It shall rest where it is, she replied,
Lest my own should be pilfer'd away.
To entrammel a heart that would stray.
It shall rest where it is, she replied,
Lest my own should be pilfer'd away.
Ay, bind it, he answer'd with zeal,
O for charity give it a chain;
For none that has power to steal
Will have virtue enough to refrain.
O for charity give it a chain;
For none that has power to steal
Will have virtue enough to refrain.
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II. THE AUTHOR'S ADDRESS TO HIS FATHER.
Departed soul, whose sudden calm deceaseCame in the moment when thy joyous heart
Welcom'd the birth-hour of thy latest born—
Thou at whose feet a care-devoted child
I stood unconscious in the hour of death,
And saw thy eyelid close, nor deem'd it aught
Save the sweet symptom of returning sleep—
Kind parent, whose indulgence yet my soul
Fondly remembers, and thy name reveres—
If in the mansions where thy spirit dwells
Inhabits sweet remembrance of thy own,
Know they are happy, and thy virtues hail
With never-ceasing pride and filial joy.
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III. VERSES TO AMANDA.
If Prometheus, my charmer, complain'd
Of the rigorous justice of Jove,
And to Caucasus ever was chain'd,
When he stole only fire from above;
Of the rigorous justice of Jove,
And to Caucasus ever was chain'd,
When he stole only fire from above;
Shalt thou 'scape the Thunderer's blow,
And thy infinite theft be forgiven,
Who hast plunder'd all nature below,
Who hast stol'n all the beauties of heaven?
And thy infinite theft be forgiven,
Who hast plunder'd all nature below,
Who hast stol'n all the beauties of heaven?
O no, thou no longer shalt stray
From the fetters of punishment free;
Mighty Jove the vast wrong shall repay,
And chain thee for ever—to me.
From the fetters of punishment free;
Mighty Jove the vast wrong shall repay,
And chain thee for ever—to me.
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IV. CANZONET I.
When the grey witch of former days
Presum'd to exercise her spell,
She made her exit in a blaze,
And he that is bewitch'd was well.
Presum'd to exercise her spell,
She made her exit in a blaze,
And he that is bewitch'd was well.
But now, since more angelic shapes
At incantation take their turn,
The beauteous sorceress escapes,
And he that is bewitch'd must burn.
At incantation take their turn,
The beauteous sorceress escapes,
And he that is bewitch'd must burn.
So am I doom'd in spite of aid
To languish in the midst of flame,
Fast-stak'd by yon enchanting maid,
Who charms me with her very name.
To languish in the midst of flame,
Fast-stak'd by yon enchanting maid,
Who charms me with her very name.
Bewitching beauty, ah, restrain
The pow'rful magic of thine eye,
Bestow a smile upon my pain,
And set me free, or let me die.
The pow'rful magic of thine eye,
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And set me free, or let me die.
Rouse thy displeasure. Let despair
With his keen arrow pierce my side,
Or give me ease, which must be there,
Where heav'n, and love, and thou reside.
With his keen arrow pierce my side,
Or give me ease, which must be there,
Where heav'n, and love, and thou reside.
V. THE MIDNIGHT INVOCATION.
Ye fairies who float on the breeze,
And in blossoms delight to repose,
Or regale with convenience and ease
In the moss-cover'd bud of the rose.
And in blossoms delight to repose,
Or regale with convenience and ease
In the moss-cover'd bud of the rose.
Ye elves who in acorn-cups dwell,
Sleeping fast through the fervours of noon,
And rejoice round the hyacinth's bell
To dance down the pale day of the moon.
Sleeping fast through the fervours of noon,
And rejoice round the hyacinth's bell
To dance down the pale day of the moon.
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Lay aside ev'ry sport ye pursue
On the mountain or dew-besprent green,
And your gay summer habits renew,
To come hither and wait on your Queen.
On the mountain or dew-besprent green,
And your gay summer habits renew,
To come hither and wait on your Queen.
Make ye haste at the dead of the night
From her chamber to steal her away,
Oh make haste, and again to my sight
My divine little charmer convey.
From her chamber to steal her away,
Oh make haste, and again to my sight
My divine little charmer convey.
Your most easy of chariots prepare,
One whose wheels are on thistledown borne,
And conduct her asleep thro' the air
Softly smiling as rosy-cheek'd morn.
One whose wheels are on thistledown borne,
And conduct her asleep thro' the air
Softly smiling as rosy-cheek'd morn.
Deck her couch with the blossoms of spring,
Round about her sweet essences shed,
And suspend the grey butterfly's wing
For a canopy over her head.
Round about her sweet essences shed,
And suspend the grey butterfly's wing
For a canopy over her head.
In the lap of sweet slumber and ease
On the plumes of the moth let her lie,
And her cheek curtain close from the breeze
With the web of the foe to the fly.
On the plumes of the moth let her lie,
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With the web of the foe to the fly.
And, since slumber and music agree,
Gentle harmonies round her be heard,
The soft flutes of the gnat and the bee,
And the hum of the dew-sipping bird.
Gentle harmonies round her be heard,
The soft flutes of the gnat and the bee,
And the hum of the dew-sipping bird.
At my door when your myriads alight,
Let no footstep disquiet her peace;
Come ye down like the snow in the night,
Soft and still as the dew on the fleece.
Let no footstep disquiet her peace;
Come ye down like the snow in the night,
Soft and still as the dew on the fleece.
And if, wak'd, from yon intricate thorn
The sweet linnet should warble his lay,
Bid him hush, for it is not the morn,
He has long to repose before day.
The sweet linnet should warble his lay,
Bid him hush, for it is not the morn,
He has long to repose before day.
Airy charmer, who thus to my sight,
Cloth'd in fancy's bewitching attire,
Comest ever by day and by night,
While I gaze and too fondly admire;
Cloth'd in fancy's bewitching attire,
Comest ever by day and by night,
While I gaze and too fondly admire;
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Lift thine eye and my passion approve,
For I own, and conceal it no more,
Thou alone art the fairy I love,
Thou alone art the sylph I adore.
For I own, and conceal it no more,
Thou alone art the fairy I love,
Thou alone art the sylph I adore.
Yet, alas! since to these longing arms
Thy attractions thou wilt not resign,
Slumber on while I dote on thy charms,
And applaud what must never be mine.
Thy attractions thou wilt not resign,
Slumber on while I dote on thy charms,
And applaud what must never be mine.
Ah! the Fates, gentle Waller, design'd
That our lots should in one thing agree;
Thou wast won by a maiden unkind,
And a maiden unkind has won me.
That our lots should in one thing agree;
Thou wast won by a maiden unkind,
And a maiden unkind has won me.
Thou didst love, and still she could refuse,
Sweet encouragement never was thine,
Saccharissa could laugh at thy muse,
Annabella is heedless of mine.
Sweet encouragement never was thine,
Saccharissa could laugh at thy muse,
Annabella is heedless of mine.
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VI. TO A LADY,
WHO, UPON RECEIVING A FLOWER, OBSERVED THAT NATURE COULD NOT HAVE MADE IT MORE PERFECT.
Could Nature do no more for this fair flower?Assert it not, fair maid—it is not true;
To make a fairer she had surely power,
Who made a fairer when she modell'd you
For the thought of this little piece, and one of the lines, the Author confesses himself to have been indebted to an ingenious friend.
VII. CANZONET II.
In my bosom contentment shall reign,
And despair shall torment me no more,
I have seen my lov'd fair one again,
And she came with a smile to my door.
And despair shall torment me no more,
I have seen my lov'd fair one again,
And she came with a smile to my door.
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I have seen her, tho' transient her stay,
Tho' time would not loiter and wait,
And the show'r has not yet wash'd away
The small print of her foot at my gate.
Tho' time would not loiter and wait,
And the show'r has not yet wash'd away
The small print of her foot at my gate.
Rapid day, the strong reason explain
Why thy steeds were so quick to be gone,
To remove my sweet angel again,
And to leave me to linger alone.
Why thy steeds were so quick to be gone,
To remove my sweet angel again,
And to leave me to linger alone.
Come again, and, to merit my praise,
Travel slow thro' the regions above,
And I'll give thee the gratefulest lays,
Which can flow from the bosom of love.
Travel slow thro' the regions above,
And I'll give thee the gratefulest lays,
Which can flow from the bosom of love.
O return, and, to win my good will,
When I see her approach from afar,
Turn thy steeds with their heads to a hill,
And lock fast ev'ry wheel of thy car.
When I see her approach from afar,
Turn thy steeds with their heads to a hill,
And lock fast ev'ry wheel of thy car.
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VIII. LINES INSERTED IN A POCKET-BOOK.
Go, little book, I charge thee post away;
To the fair hand of her I love depart,
And in soft numbers to her eye convey
The still confession of a wounded heart.
To the fair hand of her I love depart,
And in soft numbers to her eye convey
The still confession of a wounded heart.
Whisper the hopeless passion in her ear,
Which thy sad master can no longer hide,
And say not Littleton was more sincere
When at his Lucy's grave he fondly sigh'd.
Which thy sad master can no longer hide,
And say not Littleton was more sincere
When at his Lucy's grave he fondly sigh'd.
Go, and return not, but from day to day
Plead for affection till her heart approve;
Go, and return not, but for ever stay,
The sacred pledge of unforbidden love.
Plead for affection till her heart approve;
Go, and return not, but for ever stay,
The sacred pledge of unforbidden love.
For know, if to this hand these leaves return,
And to this heart unwelcome tidings bear,
Thou must a flame-devoted victim burn
Upon the kindled altar of despair.
And to this heart unwelcome tidings bear,
Thou must a flame-devoted victim burn
Upon the kindled altar of despair.
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But if thou stay, and her propitious eye
Delight to read my undissembling line,
Thy precious memory shall never die,
But live eternal as her love and mine.
Delight to read my undissembling line,
Thy precious memory shall never die,
But live eternal as her love and mine.
IX. ADDRESS TO THE MOON.
Replenish'd moon, whose unobstructed beam
Once more upon the windows of my cot
Shines with such sweet indulgence, welcome still.
I bid thee welcome with a cheerful heart,
Which loves thy gentle mitigated ray,
And the sweet smile of mute benevolence
Which glows upon thy brow—whether thy orb
Rise in the tranquil hour, and climb in peace
The azure concave of unclouded heav'n,
Or leave its couch to cross a stormy sky,
And post triumphantly from cloud to cloud—
Or whether thy pure beam shed second day
Upon a frosty scene of hills and dales
Cover'd with winter's snow, or dimly rise
From autumn's purple east with aspect streak'd,
Tawny, and slowly bright'ning, as subsides
The ray of mellow ev'ning in the west—
Yes, I still love thee, and thy rising hail
With all the little music which the lyre
Struck by my hand can utter.
Once more upon the windows of my cot
Shines with such sweet indulgence, welcome still.
I bid thee welcome with a cheerful heart,
Which loves thy gentle mitigated ray,
And the sweet smile of mute benevolence
Which glows upon thy brow—whether thy orb
Rise in the tranquil hour, and climb in peace
The azure concave of unclouded heav'n,
Or leave its couch to cross a stormy sky,
And post triumphantly from cloud to cloud—
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Upon a frosty scene of hills and dales
Cover'd with winter's snow, or dimly rise
From autumn's purple east with aspect streak'd,
Tawny, and slowly bright'ning, as subsides
The ray of mellow ev'ning in the west—
Yes, I still love thee, and thy rising hail
With all the little music which the lyre
Struck by my hand can utter.
Yet, fair moon,
Much as I love thee, let me wish thee gone.
Empty thy golden globe. Reverse thy horns,
Swiftly renewing till thy ample orb
Once more arrive at her full-lumin'd hour.
For know, unwearied empress of the night,
Soon as thy lamp industrious shall have run
Its phasy circuit round the tardy earth,
So soon I meet the fair one I adore,
My promise-bound companion in the dance.
Then, cheerful orb, I shall not look on thee.
Fair as thou art, a fairer still than thou
Will all my tendance win. Sweet is thy smile,
But sweeter her's. For as thy beauteous light
O'ercomes the feebler glories of the sky,
So will her fair appearance thy poor ray
With ease subdue, and make it pale and faint
As at the dawn of all-eclipsing day.
Much as I love thee, let me wish thee gone.
Empty thy golden globe. Reverse thy horns,
Swiftly renewing till thy ample orb
Once more arrive at her full-lumin'd hour.
For know, unwearied empress of the night,
Soon as thy lamp industrious shall have run
Its phasy circuit round the tardy earth,
So soon I meet the fair one I adore,
My promise-bound companion in the dance.
Then, cheerful orb, I shall not look on thee.
Fair as thou art, a fairer still than thou
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But sweeter her's. For as thy beauteous light
O'ercomes the feebler glories of the sky,
So will her fair appearance thy poor ray
With ease subdue, and make it pale and faint
As at the dawn of all-eclipsing day.
X. CANZONET III.
When the maid that possesses my heart
Was content at my mansion to stay,
Rapid time was in haste to depart,
And the moments fled laughing away.
Was content at my mansion to stay,
Rapid time was in haste to depart,
And the moments fled laughing away.
But now since I see her not near,
And to seek her is not in my pow'r,
Ev'ry day is as long as a year,
Ev'ry moment as slow as an hour.
And to seek her is not in my pow'r,
Ev'ry day is as long as a year,
Ev'ry moment as slow as an hour.
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Tardy time, thy fleet pinions repair,
To be swifter than ever was known;
Let the hours while I wait for my fair
Dance away upon sandals of down.
To be swifter than ever was known;
Let the hours while I wait for my fair
Dance away upon sandals of down.
But when, her gay fellows among,
At my door my sweet angel appears,
Bid the moments steal softly along,
And lengthen the days into years.
At my door my sweet angel appears,
Bid the moments steal softly along,
And lengthen the days into years.
XI. ADDRESS TO HAPPINESS.
O happiness, thou puny short-liv'd plant,Whose tender branch this world's inclement sky
But ill endures, and bears abundant bloom
In the pacific clime of Heaven alone,
Let me thy transient beauty strive to rear,
Not without hope, uncertain as thou art,
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I'll give thee shelter from all winds that blow,
Diffuse eternal summer round thy head,
And satisfy thy root with gentle drops,
Warm as the dew the tender mother sheds
Upon her drooping child. And in return
Do thou, sweet stranger, to my longing eye
At least one blossom leisurely unfold,
To be transported, when occasion smiles,
Into the bosom of the maid I love.
There to abide, perchance, shall please thee well,
For 'tis a mansion like thy native seat,
The fair abode of innocence and truth.
Be it thy home, and satisfy mankind
That happiness can flourish here below,
And is not always like the cereus' bloom,
Alive at night, and wither'd ere the morn.
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XII. CANZONET IV.
Can aught be more fair to the eye
Than the blush of the maidenly year?
Can aught with the orchard-bloom vie,
When in May its sweet blossoms appear?
Can aught like the eglantine please,
Or the rose budding? Tell me, what can?
O thrice more attracting than these
Is the cheek of my sweet little Anne.
Than the blush of the maidenly year?
Can aught with the orchard-bloom vie,
When in May its sweet blossoms appear?
Can aught like the eglantine please,
Or the rose budding? Tell me, what can?
O thrice more attracting than these
Is the cheek of my sweet little Anne.
What can charm like the spring of the field,
When it trickles transparently by?
Or what sweeter pleasure can yield,
Than to look on the gems of the sky?
What can win like the tremulous dew
Which the Zephyrs on gossamer fan?
O thrice more enchanting to view
Is the eye of my sweet little Anne.
When it trickles transparently by?
Or what sweeter pleasure can yield,
Than to look on the gems of the sky?
What can win like the tremulous dew
Which the Zephyrs on gossamer fan?
O thrice more enchanting to view
Is the eye of my sweet little Anne.
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Can aught like the morning delight,
When it dawns toward peaceable day?
Or bewitch like the planet of night,
When she steals in good humour away?
Is there aught like the sweetness of eve,
When, serene as when nature began,
The soft sun takes his mellow last leave?
Yes, the smile of my sweet little Anne.
When it dawns toward peaceable day?
Or bewitch like the planet of night,
When she steals in good humour away?
Is there aught like the sweetness of eve,
When, serene as when nature began,
The soft sun takes his mellow last leave?
Yes, the smile of my sweet little Anne.
Can aught more delicious be nam'd
Than the exquisite fruit of the pine?
More inviting can aught be proclaim'd
Than the elegant bunch of the vine?
Is there aught can in flavour exceed
Ev'ry beverage precious to man?
O yes, these are tasteless indeed
To the kiss of my sweet little Anne.
Than the exquisite fruit of the pine?
More inviting can aught be proclaim'd
Than the elegant bunch of the vine?
Is there aught can in flavour exceed
Ev'ry beverage precious to man?
O yes, these are tasteless indeed
To the kiss of my sweet little Anne.
Thrice more than the sun-setting hour,
Or the dawn of the morning, benign,
More delightful than spring's sweetest flow'r,
Or the mirth-making juice of the vine,
More serene than the gems of the sky,
And more soft than the down of the swan,
Is the cheek, is the lip, is the eye,
Is the smile, of my sweet little Anne.
Or the dawn of the morning, benign,
More delightful than spring's sweetest flow'r,
Or the mirth-making juice of the vine,
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And more soft than the down of the swan,
Is the cheek, is the lip, is the eye,
Is the smile, of my sweet little Anne.
XIII. SECOND ADDRESS TO THE MOON.
Moon that so fairly risest from the crown
Of yon high oak, and wast so fondly pray'd
To fill thy orb with light, ah me! how cold,
How little welcome is thy cheerless beam!
Methought it would have found me full of hope,
And at the side of one whose winning smiles
My soul devoutly honours. But it comes
To see me languishing in discontent,
To see me pining with a brimful eye,
Soliciting in vain the buried dart
Which festers in my bosom. Gentle moon,
How did I blame thee that thy phasy lamp
So tardily increas'd! For now methought
I should again my charmer's eye engage,
And touch the hand which her own welcome word,
Her own spontaneous promise had decreed
Should at this moment have been link'd in mine.
Of yon high oak, and wast so fondly pray'd
To fill thy orb with light, ah me! how cold,
How little welcome is thy cheerless beam!
Methought it would have found me full of hope,
And at the side of one whose winning smiles
My soul devoutly honours. But it comes
To see me languishing in discontent,
To see me pining with a brimful eye,
Soliciting in vain the buried dart
Which festers in my bosom. Gentle moon,
How did I blame thee that thy phasy lamp
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I should again my charmer's eye engage,
And touch the hand which her own welcome word,
Her own spontaneous promise had decreed
Should at this moment have been link'd in mine.
O happiness, thou fair delusive flower,
How painfully had I thy puny bud
Taught to unfold its slow reluctant leaf!
How had I cherish'd thee, with little doubt
Ere this thy grateful blossom would have grac'd
The glowing bosom of rewarded love!
But ah! a cruel worm has kill'd my hopes,
Nor can I decorate a wounded heart
With that sweet blossom which it surely needs.
An exile let me wander, far from hope,
Far from the haven of content and ease,
Far from that Paradise my doting heart
Fondly suppos'd its own. Such was the pain
Desponding Adam felt when from his hand
The gracious Angel parted, and he saw
Before him barren earth's unbounded plain,
Behind him God's high-blazing fiery sword.
Such anguish felt he when the golden gate
Clos'd on the blooming garden, which his hand
Had with affection nurtur'd. And such too
Were the few natural drops he shed apart,
And wip'd them soon. So did he overlook
And bury in her tears the bitter smart
Eve's indiscretion rais'd, concealing half
And all forgiving the vast woe he felt.
How painfully had I thy puny bud
Taught to unfold its slow reluctant leaf!
How had I cherish'd thee, with little doubt
Ere this thy grateful blossom would have grac'd
The glowing bosom of rewarded love!
But ah! a cruel worm has kill'd my hopes,
Nor can I decorate a wounded heart
With that sweet blossom which it surely needs.
An exile let me wander, far from hope,
Far from the haven of content and ease,
Far from that Paradise my doting heart
Fondly suppos'd its own. Such was the pain
Desponding Adam felt when from his hand
The gracious Angel parted, and he saw
Before him barren earth's unbounded plain,
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Such anguish felt he when the golden gate
Clos'd on the blooming garden, which his hand
Had with affection nurtur'd. And such too
Were the few natural drops he shed apart,
And wip'd them soon. So did he overlook
And bury in her tears the bitter smart
Eve's indiscretion rais'd, concealing half
And all forgiving the vast woe he felt.
Poor discontented heart! when shalt thou taste
Of the pure spring of happiness again!
Wide is the moon from the life-shedding sun,
Wide are the spangled heavens from the earth,
Wide is the east from the day-drowning west;
Yet are not all these distances so wide
As the wide distance between thee and peace.
Thou restless tenant of an aching breast,
Why dost thou labour at the forge of life
With such impetuous stroke? 'Tis not disease
Which comes thy little kingdom to disturb:
'Tis not the fever which alarms my blood,
Or brain delirious, which in ugly dream
Sees bony death with his potential bar
Heaving the lid of the unwholesome vault,
To give my relics room. No, 'tis the loss
Of only one sweet jewel dearly priz'd,
Whose absence may be some day not perceiv'd,
Tho' never recompens'd. Then be at ease;
The darkest night is follow'd by a dawn;
The gloomiest cavern has a distant mouth,
Which opens to the sun. Anguish and pain
Are changeable and waning as the moon.
The weeping mother of an only child
Can place him in the bowels of the earth,
And feel content again. His blooming bride
The husband buries, and forgets his loss.
Then may thy quick tumultuous throb be still'd
By the slow lapse of moments, months, and years.
Be patient then, and let my wakeful eye
Meet its accustom'd slumbers. One pang more
Shall be allow'd thee, when the die is cast,
And she's for ever and for ever gone.
Then to thy peace return, nor waste a sigh,
Convinc'd that Heaven in the cup of life
Mingles prevention for the good of man.
Of the pure spring of happiness again!
Wide is the moon from the life-shedding sun,
Wide are the spangled heavens from the earth,
Wide is the east from the day-drowning west;
Yet are not all these distances so wide
As the wide distance between thee and peace.
Thou restless tenant of an aching breast,
Why dost thou labour at the forge of life
With such impetuous stroke? 'Tis not disease
Which comes thy little kingdom to disturb:
'Tis not the fever which alarms my blood,
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Sees bony death with his potential bar
Heaving the lid of the unwholesome vault,
To give my relics room. No, 'tis the loss
Of only one sweet jewel dearly priz'd,
Whose absence may be some day not perceiv'd,
Tho' never recompens'd. Then be at ease;
The darkest night is follow'd by a dawn;
The gloomiest cavern has a distant mouth,
Which opens to the sun. Anguish and pain
Are changeable and waning as the moon.
The weeping mother of an only child
Can place him in the bowels of the earth,
And feel content again. His blooming bride
The husband buries, and forgets his loss.
Then may thy quick tumultuous throb be still'd
By the slow lapse of moments, months, and years.
Be patient then, and let my wakeful eye
Meet its accustom'd slumbers. One pang more
Shall be allow'd thee, when the die is cast,
And she's for ever and for ever gone.
Then to thy peace return, nor waste a sigh,
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Mingles prevention for the good of man.
XIV. TO A LADY,
WHO DREW THE PINS FROM HER BONNET IN A THUNDER-STORM.
Cease, Eliza, thy locks to despoil,
Nor remove the bright steel from thy hair;
For fruitless and fond is the toil,
Since nature has made thee so fair.
Nor remove the bright steel from thy hair;
For fruitless and fond is the toil,
Since nature has made thee so fair.
While the rose on thy cheek shall remain,
And thine eye so bewitchingly shine,
Thy endeavour must still be in vain,
For attraction will always be thine.
And thine eye so bewitchingly shine,
Thy endeavour must still be in vain,
For attraction will always be thine.
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XV. ADDRESS TO CRITICISM.
Sister of Nature, lovely Criticism,Whose friendly, exquisite, judicious touch
Softens the blaze of genius, and the work
Of every muse improves; ingenious maid,
Deem not I shun thee with a scornful eye.
Come to my side, and look upon my work:
Be seated by me. Ruminate my page;
And while my hand is loop'd about thy waist,
And my reclining head in thoughtful ease
Reposes on thy shoulder, mark my faults.
Point to the line which my impatient pen
Has hastily dismiss'd, and blot the word
Which gives offence to decency or truth.
I feel and own that I have much to mend.
Reprove me, and advise me. Thy rebuke
Is ever tender, and so mix'd with love,
'Tis but a precious medicine disguis'd,
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Such is thy censure, Cowper, whom my muse
Dares to believe, nor scruples to pronounce
The fairest critic, and the sweetest bard.
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