 | Poems |  |
106
LINES, INSCRIBED TO MRS. WYNNE,
ON THE BIRTH OF HER SON AND HEIR.
Oh! let me wake the carol gay,
And strike the lyre of pleasure;
For mirth inspires the genuine lay,
And animates the measure.
And strike the lyre of pleasure;
For mirth inspires the genuine lay,
And animates the measure.
Blest was the hour, sweet infant boy,
That gave thee to maternal arms;
Propitious hope and smiling joy,
With rapture view'd thy blooming charms.
That gave thee to maternal arms;
Propitious hope and smiling joy,
With rapture view'd thy blooming charms.
For thee, sweet babe, the artless muse,
A simple wreath composes;
And see, a genial tear bedews
Her garland form'd of roses.
A simple wreath composes;
And see, a genial tear bedews
Her garland form'd of roses.
And oh! in all thy future days,
May virtue o'er thy breast preside;
Illume thy mind with sacred rays,
And ever be thy heavenly guide.
May virtue o'er thy breast preside;
Illume thy mind with sacred rays,
And ever be thy heavenly guide.
For thee I breathe an artless prayer,
To Heaven that prayer addressing,
May all thy life be free from care,
Enrich'd with every blessing.
To Heaven that prayer addressing,
May all thy life be free from care,
Enrich'd with every blessing.
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