University of Virginia Library


111

TO THE AUTHOR OF SIR HUBERT.

Pupil of Him whose legendary song,
On Mulla's reedy banks was breath'd whilere,
Much do I grieve, thy fairy scenes among,
Sad Ethelinda's wayward tale to hear,
Much, too, as stern he slowly stalks along,
Sir Hubert chills my pulse with with'ring fear!
Sweet, yet sublime, and elegant thy thought,
Irregularly graceful thy design,
A wreath by Fancy's rosey fingers wrought,
To deck the Muse's ever-during shrine!
A flame from fervid Inspiration caught,
Resistless rushing with a force divine!

112

Long in the summer-shade shall youth delight
To chaunt thy strain, while mingled passions rise,
Now knightly deeds heroic warmth excite,
Or Feeling's dew-drops gem the virgin's eyes,
And, now, while Sorrow swims before her sight,
The maiden's gentle breast dissolves in sighs.
Shakespear, great sovereign of the willing soul,
Sure met thy solemn step by Avon's stream,
For so, his wond'rous strokes the mind controul,
Such the wild raptures of his wizard dream,
And such the charms that thro' his numbers roll,
When wailing Love, pain'd Worth, or Pity is His theme.