 | Metrical Effusions |  |
131
SONNET TO------
Tuneful enchantress! whose bewitching artBeguiles the soul to many a blissful dream;
How shall the Muse, invok'd to such a theme,
Express thy power to captivate the heart?
Him, in whose eye no tears of rapture start,
Untouch'd by strains like thine, we well may deem
To sentiment a stranger, though he seem
In other guise to act a manly part.
Sweet songstress! frown not on my artless lyre;
Nor scorn the humble, tributary line
Thus feebly offer'd. Well might'st thou inspire
A muse to soar above the flight of mine;
But who, of all the bright parnassian choir,
Could sing thy art in strains so sweet as thine?
| Metrical Effusions | |