 | May Fair |  |
There stands a figure for thee, Lawrence,
Worth all the belles of Rome or Florence:
Thou, whose immortalizing touch,
Defies old Time's hard-handed clutch;—
Gives light to eyes, and bloom to lips,
That scorn a century's eclipse,
That even when L*c*s*t*r's self is past,
Her charms shall round our grandsons cast.—
On H*pe's fair brow bid beauty sit,
Flash life from J*rs*y's eye of wit;
And show how majesty can fling
Its mantle o'er a patriot King.
Worth all the belles of Rome or Florence:
Thou, whose immortalizing touch,
Defies old Time's hard-handed clutch;—
Gives light to eyes, and bloom to lips,
That scorn a century's eclipse,
That even when L*c*s*t*r's self is past,
Her charms shall round our grandsons cast.—
On H*pe's fair brow bid beauty sit,
Flash life from J*rs*y's eye of wit;
178
Its mantle o'er a patriot King.
| May Fair | |