Poems, moral and descriptive By the late Richard Jago ... (Prepared for the press, and improved by the author, before his death.) To which is added, some account of the life and writings of Mr. Jago |
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On receiving a little IVORY BOX from a lady, curiously wrought by her own hands.
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 | Poems, moral and descriptive |  |
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On receiving a little IVORY BOX from a lady, curiously wrought by her own hands.
Little Box of matchless grace!
Fairer than the fairest face,
Smooth as was her parent-hand,
That did thy wond'rous form command.
Spotless as her infant mind,
As her riper age refin'd,
Beauty with the Graces join'd.
Fairer than the fairest face,
Smooth as was her parent-hand,
That did thy wond'rous form command.
Spotless as her infant mind,
As her riper age refin'd,
Beauty with the Graces join'd.
Let me clothe the lovely stranger,
Let me lodge thee safe from danger.
Let me guard thy soft repose,
From giddy Fortune's random blows.
From thoughtless mirth, barbaric hate,
From the iron-hand of Fate,
And Oppression's deadly weight.
Let me lodge thee safe from danger.
Let me guard thy soft repose,
From giddy Fortune's random blows.
From thoughtless mirth, barbaric hate,
From the iron-hand of Fate,
And Oppression's deadly weight.
Thou art not of a sort, or number
Fashion'd for a Poet's lumber;
Tho' more capacious than his purse,
Too small to hold his store of verse.
Too delicate for homely toil,
Too neat for vulgar hands to soil.
Fashion'd for a Poet's lumber;
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Too small to hold his store of verse.
Too delicate for homely toil,
Too neat for vulgar hands to soil.
O! wou'd the Fates permit the Muse,
Thy future destiny to chuse!
In thy circle's fairy round,
With a golden fillet bound:
Like the snow-drop silver white,
Like the glow-worm's humid light,
Like the dew at early dawn,
Like the moon-light on the lawn,
Lucid rows of pearls shou'd dwell,
Pleas'd as in their native shell;
Or the brilliant's sparkling rays,
Shou'd emit a starry blaze.
Thy future destiny to chuse!
In thy circle's fairy round,
With a golden fillet bound:
Like the snow-drop silver white,
Like the glow-worm's humid light,
Like the dew at early dawn,
Like the moon-light on the lawn,
Lucid rows of pearls shou'd dwell,
Pleas'd as in their native shell;
Or the brilliant's sparkling rays,
Shou'd emit a starry blaze.
And if the Fair whose magic skill,
Wrought thee passive to her will,
Deign to regard thy Poet's love,
Nor his aspiring suit reprove,
Her form should crown the fair design,
Goddess fit for such a shrine!
Wrought thee passive to her will,
Deign to regard thy Poet's love,
Nor his aspiring suit reprove,
Her form should crown the fair design,
Goddess fit for such a shrine!
| Poems, moral and descriptive | |